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When the stars behind his eyelids faded and his cock stopped twitching, he released her hair and she slid back and onto her heels. But rather than let go of him entirely, she made sure that their eyes were locked when she ran her tongue up his shaft from the base by his balls all the way to the tip, smiling when she reached the head.
“Yummy,” she said, licking her lips.
His brain was about to explode. This woman was fucking perfect.
She lifted a brow while hitting him with her warm brown gaze. “Can I comenow?”
Oh, this woman was going to challenge him at every fucking turn, he just knew it.
Nodding, he heaved her up with a growl and tossed her back to the bed, then he dove between her spread legs and tasted what he’d been craving since she first showed him how big of a brat she could be. And he was not disappointed.
Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Presentday…
She should have expected him to show up at her place, not willing to take her declaration of hating him as a strong enough warning to stay away.
She never should have sent that text apologizing for punching him. But damn her soft heart, she actually felt bad about it … sort of. Mostly.
But Jordan was a persistent, patient and determined man. When he wanted something, eventually, he got it.
And he didn’t do it by wearing a person down until they gave in. He did it by being his naturally quiet, confident, mega-alpha self.
She’d allowed herself to be weak to it when they were together because it turned her on and she loved him. But now …
Well, now it still turned her on and she still loved him, but things were different.
His spell on her was no less effective, left her panties as damp as it always did, and had her heart racing, but this time, she knew she was strong enough not to give in. Mostly.
She knew the moment she gave into temptation he’d have her dickmatized again and craving he’d call her hispretty girlagain. She had to remain strong. Not only because Jordan was with Laura and neither of them were cheaters, but also because she just couldn’t be with someone who demanded she share her darkness with him, but refused to share his own with her.
He’d hurt her and she swore up, down, and sideways after what happened to her when she was seventeen down in Seattle and Vegas, that she’d become the strongest version of herself she possibly could. Her exterior would be impenetrable. No man would ever know how much she hurt on the inside when her outside appeared unscathed.
But Jordan knew her so damn well it was scary. However, also exhilarating.
He showed up on her doorstep two days after he dropped her off with the cab. She hadn’t heard anything from him in between, not that she’d been expecting to, since the man had stopped communicating with her via technology months ago. She’d just gotten back from a run and was gearing up for a Sunday filled with laundry, cleaning, and preparing lunches for the week, when his big fist knocked on her door.
“Rayma,” Jordan called out. “It’s me, can we talk?”
She paused mid-fold of her favorite cardigan and stared unblinkingly at her front door. If she was quiet, maybe he’d just go away.
“I see your car parked in the driveway, Rayma, I know that you’re home.”
No, he didn’t. Maybe she was out for a walk? Or Peyton or her sister Pasha had picked her up. He couldn’t discern that just because her vehicle was there that she was, too.
Even though she was.
He knocked again. “Rayma! I can see the lights on. I’m a cop, remember? I’m trained to pay attention to these kinds of things. I know you’re home.”
She glared at the door. Just because he was a cop didn’t mean she needed to let him in. One, this wasn’t his municipality. She lived in Saanich, and he was part of the Esquimalt RCMP. Two, he was still on his days off. And finally, three, she didn’t want to open the door for his stupidly handsome face.
His knock held a bit moreoomphthis time. “Rayma, if you’re not going to open the door, will you at least listen to me, please?” She could hear him murmur, “I feel like a fucking idiot standing out here right now. I came with a peace offering.”
“Hey, can I help you?” Oh shit, that was her landlord, Mr. Gurpreet. She’d lived below the Gurpreet family for years now and loved them dearly. Mrs. Gurpreet was the world’s best cook and kept Rayma full of pakoras, mushroom curry, and fresh naan bread. Plus, they hadn’t raised the rent on her in almost three years, which she was grateful for. Their kids were the same ages as some of her nieces and nephews and often drew pictures for Rayma and left them on her doorstep. “Oh, hey, Jordan.”
Yes, Mr. Gurpreet knew Jordan quite well, considering that Jordan was over at Rayma’s constantly when they were together.
