Restoring Jordan (17 page)

I pound into her as her orgasm fades. I’m harsh as I thrust. My need is nearly unrestrained as I consume, invade, and conquer her body as though I own it, and when I finally reach my limit, I explode in a loud, guttural growl. Were I not so exhausted and replete, I would likely be embarrassed for my complete lack of control, but looking to her eyes as I gasp for breath, she is smiling. She’s amused at my loss of candor, and as the smirk pulls the corner of her lip up, I push deep into her warmth. She gasps at the intrusion, and I stroke in and out of her as the last of my arousal feeds my cock. I hold her eyes as my thrusting gentles and slows. She rises to kiss me, and my heart shudders at the warmth of her lips as they claim my mouth.

I pull from her depths and roll her to face me, wrapping my arms around her. She is small and fragile as I bask in my pathetically masculine domination of her body. I can’t lose this one. I have mere weeks to convince this woman that moving home to her perfect family is a mistake. They love her in a way I’ve never experienced. I want it. I want to experience it, and I want to give it to her, but they understand love in far deeper terms than I ever have. Adeline was raised to love, to care, to know how to be loved. What hope do I have of giving her enough of what she needs to choose me over them? I love her. God help me, I do. But I don’t know how to do this. I want to give her all of me, but I failed miserably once before; what’s to say I won’t fail her as well? I can’t bear the thought of it. She deserves better than what I know how to give, but terrifying as it may be, I will have to reach far beyond what my limited experience with intimacy and love has prepared me for if I have any hope of keeping her. God help me.

It’s not the last he takes of my body for the night, but at least the next time he doesn’t push me over the edge with demands I can hardly bear. Making love as he looked up at me was intense, but the vulnerability of it had my anxiety ready to run and hide. Later, once I’ve fallen asleep in his arms, I wake as his fingers explore my body, and when he finally enters me, I’m so ready I could burst with little more than a stroke or two. But he gives me far more than that. He gently pushes stroke after slow stroke into my body in the darkness of his room and the warmth of his bed. He’s taken his place on top of me, and I love the security his strength and domination of my body brings.

His lips barely leave mine the entire time, and his thrusting remains controlled and slow. When I finally come, I’m whimpering quietly under his weight, and as he falls apart it’s with his lips on mine, uttering my name through ragged breaths. As he pulls my back to his body and tightens his grip around me, I drift off once again. My body is sore, and there’s a mild and deep cramping in my womb. Perhaps making love three times in one night was a bit much, but I’ll never deny him. I can’t deny him.

* * * *

I wake the next morning to the site of Jordan approaching me in glorious nakedness. He’s holding a washcloth in his hand, and he sits beside me on the bed. He kisses me once before pulling the blanket back from my body and running the warm, wet cloth over my sex, delving gently between my lips. As he pulls it back from my body, it’s pink.

“I woke looking like I did after the first night we were together. I either hurt you or you started your period.” My cheeks are burning, but he’s smiling gently at me.

“Oh God. I’m sorry.” I fly out of bed toward the bathroom. Well that certainly explains the aching gut. Idiot! These things don’t sneak up on me usually, but I’ve been so damn sidetracked these past many weeks I completely forgot I’m a woman of childbearing years. I really am unprepared, because while my purse has been left abandoned on his entryway floor, it will do me no good. I didn’t pack any ammunition! So, standing naked in his luxurious bathroom, I do the only thing I can do. I stare in the mirror, grumbling and growling at myself for my stupidity, and then resort to looking around to see if a tampon dispenser will miraculously sprout from the wall. Giving up on that idea moments later, I start the shower and retreat to the warmth of the cleansing water that will ultimately help me little.

When he enters the shower still naked and gorgeous, I cover my body as much as my slender limbs can conceal me. I’m not sure why I’m suddenly so nervous about being naked in front of him, but as he smiles and approaches with not so much as an inkling of fear at the leak I’ve sprung, he leans to my mouth and kisses me.

“Why are you panicking over this?” His voice is soothing against my ear, and embarrassed and horrified as I am, the touch relaxes my body. But this is not a problem that’s going to rectify itself.

“I have to go. I’m sorry … I’m just ill equipped for this…” I’m sheepish; he’s amused. Such is life.

“Relax. You stay here. Take a bath, stand on your head until I get back, just … don’t go. I have to run to the store to pick up something for breakfast. I’ll take care of it.” His hand trails around to my stomach, rubbing my belly before trailing to the lips of my vagina. I freeze as his fingers slip between the lips and gently prod and stroke. He doesn’t enter me, but he has me gasping and panting within moments while I brace my body against the wall of shower. His free hand grips my waist as he grinds his pelvis against my backside. I come as my head drops to the wall, and I shudder with pleasure.

Turning, I see his aroused eyes watching me. His hand is on his cock, stroking and gripping. His eyes are desperate, and I kneel taking him in my mouth as an incredible groan leaves him. I lave, lick, taste, and stroke. His eyes don’t leave me, and I watch him with the same heady intensity. The water is still cascading over our bodies, and my fear and humiliation have left me completely. He wants me as much in this moment as any other. He comes in my mouth with a choked sob emanating from his lips, and as he watches me swallow him he leans his forehead to the wall my back is braced against. I stand in his arms as he wraps them around me.

Leaning to my ear, he pleads once more. “Stay. Please stay.” He looks to my eyes waiting for my response, and I give him what he wants.

I relax in his bathtub while he’s away, and when he returns, carrying a rather large bag in his arms, I climb from the tub, pulling the drain. But as I open the bag, I nearly come unglued in sudden laughter. “Jordan, there’s like … what, ten, fifteen different … are these Depends?”

His face is serious, but mocking as well. “Things got … complicated.” He’s shaking his head in confusion as he chuckles. “It was really confusing with the wings and the dry weave and the long and the extra long and the regular, and heavy, max, min, medium, mean…” I’m pretty sure he’s quoting statistics at this point, but he keeps going as I laugh. “Light, moderate, the flows and the … the … I mean what are adult diapers, baby diapers, pads, tampons, condoms, and lube doing all in one place? And do you know how many women hang out in that aisle at one time? There was a baby … and it was mocking me.” I’m laughing as he continues his ridiculous tale of feminine product woes. And as my laughter and his smirk finally fade, he continues. “I’m sure you can find something in there that will suit your needs, and by the way, I won’t be doing that for you again anytime soon.” He turns on his heel, leaving me alone to dress.

When I enter the kitchen he is busy with scrambled eggs at the stove. I’m finally human and not completely humiliated, and as I approach him he reaches for my body. I smile and he flashes his perfect, sweet smile, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. He looks amazing standing in his oversize kitchen in his ridiculously perfect house, and I am out of place as usual. Strange he so obviously doesn’t regard me in this way. But as he holds me close to his body and I enjoy the warmth of his skin, he fidgets. He suddenly looks nervous, but he says nothing.

When he finishes the eggs and the toast, we sit at the island and eat in silence. His eyes are in another world, and he’s deep in thought. I want to ask, but I’m still intimidated by this man the better portion of the time, and even delving too deep into his brain leaves me terrified he won’t appreciate my interest.

Finally, his eyes meet mine and he puts his fork down. “So I was thinking now would be a good time for you to go on birth control.”

I cough as I suddenly am unable to chew, think, and swallow at the same time. “Umm. What?” Seriously, Adeline? Is that the best I can do?

He’s rigid and still beside me, and though I’m nearly too afraid to look to him for my own reasons, I sense he’s carrying his own emotional baggage at the moment. When I manage to pull my gaze away from my plate to his eyes, I’m hit hard with his gentle, worried expression. It isn’t the Jordan I know to be so very human and humble. He’s nervous, and seeing my wide and shocked eyes he stumbles through his next words. “It’s just … doctors usually like to know for sure you’re not pregnant and right now… If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I just thought…” He’s so damn nervous, and it hurts to see him this way.

“I suppose I could, but…” My words trail off as I try hard to find the right words. This isn’t a man who wants to keep me permanently, and as much as I enjoy him it also smacks my pride he should ask me to go to the trouble for a fleeting affair. “I’m not sure there’s much point. I mean, I graduate soon and I’ll be moving and…”

“I think it’s ridiculous you’re moving, and quite frankly, not a smart move for your career.” His words hit with a sudden resentment in his tone, but his face quickly softens at my shocked expression. His hand reaches for mine, and in a voice far gentler he continues. “I’m tired of remembering to carry condoms in my pocket all the time.” He smiles sweetly before his lips smirk, and he continues with a seductive purr. “I want to be able to fuck you when I want to fuck you, and I don’t want to worry I can’t because I’ve forgotten a condom. I assure you, I’m as anal retentive about my health as I am my work, but I hardly expect you to take my word for it. I’ll give you copies of my medical records, and I’ll have you know I’ve not had unprotected sex since divorcing my ex-wife seven years ago.”

My eyes flash wide at his words. His gaze is seductive, but his body language is desperate and demanding. He wants this. He doesn’t want me to move away; he’s made it abundantly clear, but he’s acting more jealous boyfriend than concerned boss at the moment. I finally take a deep breath and return his sarcasm. “So, you want my medical records?”

“I hardly think I need to be concerned about your health, and I’m assuming I’ve not left enough time in your schedule for you to sleep with anyone else since I took your virginity, so I think the birth control will suffice in your case.” He smirks quickly before looking away. He still has a very uncharacteristic nervousness, and it leaves me wanting to reach out to him, reassure him. But for what?

I nod in agreement, and after calling my doctor to set up an appointment for Monday morning, Jordan finally relaxes. The weekend is spent together, and it’s amazing—movies in bed, dinner out at a quiet hole in the wall, sleeping late the next morning, and then more movies, a blowjob, more fun in the shower and incredible back rub, and then finally home. I spend the rest of the evening at the Laundromat, getting ready for the week with Kelli at my side. We fold, we chat, she pries for information, and I eventually give in.

“
You’re
going on birth control? And
he
asked you to?” She’s watching me as I nod. “Are you sure he doesn’t, like, really really like you? I mean, Addy, men don’t just ask you to go on birth control for a few weeks. Are you sure he doesn’t want to keep you around?” Her head is tilted with her leading question.

“Oh, come on. You saw him. You met him. He can’t possibly want anything long term with someone like me.” Kelli’s face scrunches up in her complete lack of appreciation for my words.

“What the hell are you saying? That you’re not good enough? Sorry, babe, but that’s bullshit!” She’s speaking forcefully and with more than enough conviction to show she’s serious.

“He doesn’t do relationships. He’s the one-night-stand man. Remember?”

“Sure he is. Maybe before he met you. It can’t have escaped your attention the man is obsessed with you, and if this is a one-night stand, then I, and the rest of the world for that matter, are completely confused on what the term actually means. One-night stand my ass! He likes you. Why is that so hard for you believe?” I shrug, with my low self-esteem visible to Kelli. “You already said he doesn’t agree with you returning to Iowa after graduation, and BTdubs, I don’t either.”

“Well you just made my point. There’s a difference between wanting me to stay for personal reasons and wanting me to stay for purely professional reasons.”

“You’re insane.” And her crazed but good-natured expression shows just how serious she is when she says this. “You’re sleeping with the man. He may not be confessing his undying love and devotion, but for fuck sake, he’s telling you he wants you to stay! Do you really think it’s so he can suddenly stop sleeping with you? He’s a man. And by your own admission, he was raised in a family that could have cared less if he was alive. He’s out of his element. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care! How can I see this so clearly and you can’t? I’m usually the one lacking in any rational thought, not you!”

“I just can’t … I don’t know. Honestly, Kelli, I want to think you’re right, but … I can’t have this blow up in my face.” I look away, shaking my head. She just doesn’t understand. She’s bold; I’m not. She can wear her heart on her sleeve and let people take as many swipes at her as they want. I’m terrified of caring for this man. I know I do. I love him. But I can’t put myself out there just to let him destroy me. Moving back to Des Moines is not my first choice, but I was offered a job there—the only job offer I’ve received. I can’t turn that down just to hang out in Chicago drooling over the one-night-stand man.

I have a small pile of rejection letters from Chicago firms that grows taller by the day, and I just don’t have any good excuse for staying. I’m out of money. He can offer to let me stay with him all he wants, but what does that really mean? Stay with him in his bed. And for how long? I’ve already made the mistake of caring entirely too much for a man who doesn’t know the first thing about love. Moving in with him is a liability to my pathetically ignorant and emotional heart. He’s given me no real reason to stay, and I can’t make a decision like this based on what I want him to feel for me. I just can’t set myself up for that kind of heartache. It’s the very heartache I’ve witnessed every last one of my girlfriends suffer. It’s the very heartache I’ve managed to avoid.