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She pushes on my chest, but I don’t let go, not wanting the feeling of her to be gone just yet…and not without knowing if she’ll wander her way into another car's path.
“Briar, let go of me, I’m fine,” she whines.
“You’renotfine, and you’re not going home, at least not by yourself. Did you call a rideshare?” I ask her.
Her eyes roll but she stops fighting me. “No. I’m fine.” She huffs. “I didn’t even have…that much.” It’s bullshit and her hesitance tells me she knows it. She pushes against me again and I back off just slightly. “I don’t needyouto take care ofme. I take care ofyouandallof Kaidan’s friends. I’meveryone’sbig sister.” Every emphasized word holds more pain. They stab at me through the air.
I’ve never thought of Jordan like a sister. The number of times I’ve thought of her with my cock in my hand is evidence of that.
“Do you want someone to take care of you?” I ask softly, bumping my forehead against hers. “You can ask me for help, Jojo.” My thumb slips beneath her sweater and the heat of her skin is decadent.
She searches my face a moment, her pout softening as she thinks it over.
And then she kisses me.
Full lips press into mine as she stands on unsteady tiptoes. Her grip is deathlike as she holds onto my shirt to keep herself upright and close. I don’t respond right away, frozen in place from the move. But the longer her lips linger, the less I’m able to resist.
I hug her torso lightly, molding my mouth to hers as I tilt my head, deepening the kiss. It’s all fire and held back desires all finally bubbling to the surface. She tastes like the sparkle of Christmas lights, the bitter of coffee, and bright caramel hints from bourbon.
Shit, bourbon. Too much bourbon.
I’ve wanted nothing more than this moment since I met Jordan when I was a hormonal monster of a teenager all the way up to the man I’ve become. But it isn’t right, tainted by the tang of alcohol on her breath. I want her but not like this. Not while she’s egg-nogged out of her mind. My eyes squeeze shut as I prepare to disappoint every fiber of my being for what I’m about to do.
“Jordan, we can’t.” I firmly say against her mouth, pulling back. She protests by intensifying her efforts, and I’m thinking she’d break my nose with her ferocity, but I manage to keep her at arm’s length, pinning her to the car, making enough room for even the Holy Ghost between us.
I soften the blow of both our disappointment with a kiss to her forehead. “Jojo, let's get you home.”
Snatching her keys from her, I load her into the passenger seat of her car. She’s more docile in the comfort of her own car, curling up on her side. I’m glad I buckled her in because she’s out like a light in two seconds flat. Settling into the driver’s seat, I only need to adjust the seat slightly. I’m a tall boy but Jordan is only a half foot below me. I like that about her, she’s a whole lot of woman for me to handle.
Let’s just hope sober she wants to kiss me again.
CHAPTER4
Jordan
I’m swimming in a sea of warmth, a plush dark duvet is a welcome wave in my ocean of comfort. I roll around and snuggle into the pillow, breathing in the deep scent of tobacco and vanilla. My whole body stiffens.
My bedding was a ruby red color the last I checked, not charcoal gray. I also slept with sheets and a fuzzy blanket under a quilt…no duvet. But once I figure out where I am I’ll have to get one.
Oh god, where am I?! Did I get roofied? More likely I got egg-nogged.
The night is fuzzy but coming back quickly. I remember having eggnog with my mother after a particularly dangerous round of pin the red nose on Rudolph where my dad got stuck with a pin. Did I drink after that? If so, how many more? There is a clear problem with never drinking. It’s never knowing your limit.
My stomach is queasy, but my head is surprisingly clear. Definitely not drugged and that’s a relief, but I note a water bottle half-drank beside me on a nightstand that is definitely not mine and that’s quite worrying. The room is dark with shades drawn but I can make out forest green walls, a wooden dresser in the corner, and a pristine white walk-in bathroom across from the bed.
I throw back the duvet and set my feed on dark cool floors. Bare feet?! I was wearing tights. I was also wearing a sweater and a skirt but this morning, I’m in my underwear only.
I swallow my scream and look around for my clothes, hastily grabbing the closest thing to a garment I see— caramel colored sweater, surprisingly long enough, although snug on my chest, to give me the coverage I seek.
Now to determine if I went home with a stranger or if I’ve been kidnapped.
There’s a soft knock on the door just before it cracks. I crash to the floor, hiding rather sloppily.
“Jojo, you up?”
What the…? I know that voice.
“Briar?” I ask, popping my head up.
