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“Yeah.” He twisted away from me. “Okay. Have a good night. Happy birthday.”
Before I could clarify that I only meant that I was staying in a hotel and I had no plans of taking anyone back with me, he was gone.
* * *
An hour into the celebrations, and the night had taken a turn for the worse. After obligatory birthday shots and selfies—suggested by Jordan, of course—my well-meaning friends, knowing nothing of Jordan’s and my situation, had invited several women to join us. Beautiful women. Grant and Ainsley, the two of my teammates who weren’t single, were alternating between dancing in front of the glass balustrade of the VIP area, which looked down onto the main club dance floor, and playing some convoluted drinking game with Lars, Reuben, and some of the women. I had no desire to participate because I needed to keep my wits about me.
A hot spike of jealousy and hurt lanced through me as across the booth, one of the girls slid towards Jordan and then cuddled up to him, almost in his lap. Clenching my jaw, I gripped my glass so tightly I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had shattered. I couldn’t look away. I needed to look away.
Jordan dipped his head, saying something into her ear, and then flashed her an easy smile. He slid out of the booth, walking over to the glass balustrade. Leaning his forearms on the edge, he stared down over the dance floor. His sleeves were rolled up, and during the time we’d been here, he’d undone four of the buttons of his shirt, giving me a tantalising view of his smooth, tanned skin.
I mumbled an excuse to the woman on my left that I’d barely spoken two words to, sliding past her and out of the booth, joining my teammate.
“She’s pretty.”
His gaze remained on the people dancing below us. “Very. She invited me for a threesome with her friend.”
The jealousy and pain I’d felt earlier was insignificant compared to the hot wave that came crashing over me at his words. I moistened my lips, managing to croak out a single word. “Oh.”
“I turned her down.”
My heart stuttered. “Why?”
“Why haven’t you spoken to the girl you were sitting next to? She’s been trying to get your attention all evening. From what I’ve heard, she’s just your type.”
“Fuck, Jordan.” I closed my eyes.
“We agreed that what happened between us was over once we left the island. We should be trying to move on.” His tone was flat, but when I opened my eyes again and glanced over at him, I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw, the way his brows were pulled together, his body stiff and tense.
“We did, and we should.”
At my words, he sucked in a shaky breath, biting down on his lip.
I moved closer so the fabric of my shirt was brushing against his. “We should,” I repeated. “But not tonight.”
Finally, he looked at me.
“Not tonight,” he said.
32
JORDAN
Lifting my hand, I knocked at the hotel room door. This was reckless and irresponsible of me. If any of the hotel staff or guests caught me going into Theo’s room… That was how rumours started, wasn’t it? Although I was fairly sure that the speculation would be more along the lines of me challenging him to a fight or something, given our previous press coverage. There was no way anyone would guess that I was here to—
The door flew open, and I pushed inside, slamming it shut behind me. When I turned to face Theo, he had his arms folded across his chest, and his brow was raised in that haughty way that made me want to crack his cool demeanour.
“What are you doing here, Jordan? We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know. I’m not here for that. I…I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
He sighed. “You already did that in the club. You can’t be here, as much as I want you to be.”
I held out the small box I’d been concealing behind my back. “I have birthday cake. Fresh from the hotel kitchen. Come on, Theo. Let me celebrate with you. We can behave. We’re professional athletes. We have willpower.”
“I’m not sure I have much willpower when it comes to you,” he muttered but turned on his heel, heading over to the small seating area in front of the window, the London skyline stretched out before us, glittering in the night. When we were both seated on chairs perpendicular to one another, I opened the box, taking out the two salted caramel cupcakes I’d managed to procure downstairs with the help of an autograph for the chef. Being a semi-famous footballer had its perks.
I definitely didn’t watch the way Theo’s throat worked as he swallowed, and he definitely didn’t watch me licking caramel buttercream from my fingers. It was all perfectly innocent, just two friends alone in a room together. Two friends who were definitely not angling their bodies closer, staring at each other’s mouths like they wanted to kiss…
