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“Right.” Jordan’s deep chuckle—much too deep for a guy only around twenty-five—washed over her like a welcomed summer breeze. Her nipples tightened under all her layers and her pussy clenched of its own volition.
Her body was betraying her brain. She was just grateful for the heaps of clothing she had on and the fact that besides her probably flushed cheeks, Jordan couldn’t tell otherwise how turned on she was.
He handed her back her phone, which she hadn’t realized he still had. “Merry Christmas, Rayma. I’m looking forward to our date.” Then he winked at her—the motherfucker actuallywinked—shoved his hands in his pockets and took off back up the driveway.
She stood there on her stoop until she heard him drive away.
Then, when she knew he was gone, she peeled off all her clothes, down to her underwear, leaving them in a pile on her welcome mat, went to the small patch of grass that was “her” yard, which was basically six feet wide by six feet long, fenced in by black chain link and with enough sun exposure for three tomato plants and three strawberry plants in the summer.
The snow against the bottoms of her feet sent her body into a state of rebellious shock and the freezing of her toes started to feel like icy picks being jammed into her toe pads.
But she ignored it all.
A quick glance up at the house where her landlords lived proved they weren’t home, so she fell back into the snow and glanced skyward. She stayed like that until the count of thirty, then with a shiver, ran back to gather her clothes and rush in through the front door.
Yeah, if that didn’t cool her off, after the way Jordan went all sexy alpha on her, nothing would.
***
Christmas three years ago …
“I’m so excited for Joy and Grant,” Rayma said, as she and Jordan drove home in companionable silence after another wild and wonderful Christmas at the Hart house.
It’d been an eventful day—more eventful than most Christmases—since Grant had gotten down on one knee and asked Joy to marry him. Of course, the whole family was thrilled, and Grant was grateful to Rayma for helping him with his proposal speech since the guy wasn’t much of a talker. And Rayma generally never shut up.
“Even Brock seemed to be okay with it,” Jordan said, turning onto Shelbourne. “Which is saying a lot, given how …”
“Grumpy he is all the time?”
“I was going to saystoic, but yes.” He shot her a grin that made her belly flutter.
“So, you’re staying over, right? You’re on night shift tomorrow, so you can bang me until midnight, one-thirty if I’m agood girl, then you need to sleep?” She bobbed her brows at him and returned his mega-watt smile.
She was expecting an equally sassy, and filth-laden response, but his face suddenly fell and he gazed back at the road. “I uh … we need to talk.”
The fattest reindeer fell out of the sky and landed its big hairy ass right on Rayma’s chest. Or at least that’s what it felt like.
She averted her eyes and stared straight ahead, too. “Oh … uh, okay, sure.”
It was only another four minutes until they were pulling into Rayma’s driveway on Torquay. She hadn’t bothered to drive to Joy’s this time since Jordan picked her up that morning and drove them both to the house for family dinner.
He put the truck in park, his grill less than three feet from hers, and he threw on the parking brake. There was no snow on the ground this year, but it was bitter cold, and with all the stars out it was sure to freeze.
He climbed out of the truck and practically ran around the back, opening her door for her before she had the wherewithal to do it herself.
She wasn’t drunk—okay, notthatdrunk, but his words kept spinning around in her head that she couldn’t think of anything else.
We need to talk.
Did anything good ever get discussed when someone said to someone else“We need to talk,”?No, never.
Not in the history of people everywhere and anywhere did anything good come fromwe need to talk.
Even though she didn’t want to take his arm, she did it anyway when he shot her thatdon’t argue with melook, and he helped her navigate the driveway down to her basement suite.
“Your landlords need to do a better job salting their driveway. It’s a liability.”
All Rayma could do was grunt. It really was amazing how quickly someone’s mood could change.
