Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut (52 page)

Jordan slept in Daniel's old room in the basement and I lay restless twenty-three stairs and thirty-one footsteps away on the second floor. We exchanged steamy instant messages most of the night and napped together in the overstuffed chair, basked in afternoon sun pouring through the front window.

Sunday, before the gunmetal gray shadows yielded to the sherbet spray of dawn, my bedroom door creaked slightly. Half asleep, I pulled my pillow over my head. "I'm not putting Muffy out," I grumbled, waiting for Rick's plea. I drifted back to dreamland before hearing the reply…but not before I felt the kiss on the back of my neck.

"Okay, you don't have to put Muffy out."

Jordan slipped my camisole strap off my shoulder and his lips caressed the vacant spot. I turned in his arms, our legs braided together and lips engaged in sultry wake-up kisses. Only when oxygen became necessary did we stop to breathe. My hands pressed his bare chest, feeling his lungs swell.

"We're playing a dangerous game, Jordan."

"You mean with Rick asleep across the hall?" His hands cupped my head, another mind-blowing kiss stealing my breath.

"I mean it's getting harder to keep from going too far," I whispered against his mouth.

"Shhh. Give me five more minutes to convince you I don't give a damn."

My guardian angel stood watch because Rick's alarm sounded, icing down the fire smoldering. "You better get back downstairs."

Jordan pecked my lips one last time before climbing out of my bed. I snuggled into the pillow still holding the smell of his hair and curled into the warm spot where his body had been moments ago.

Too close.

30

BARTERING

T
he eleven o'clock hour flashed on the dash readout when we pulled off the interstate. Jordan tugged my hand to his mouth when we started down the street toward our apartments.

"Marli, stay with me tonight. I'll wake you early enough to go home and get ready for school."

The soft touch of his fingers drawing tiny circles on the back of my neck didn't help my resolve. After this morning, the thought of being alone with Jordan conjured up several devilish thoughts, all surrounded with caution tape. However, I'd reached a point under his touch where I no longer cared and parked the car against the curb in front of his complex.

He leaned over the console and seared my lips with a victorious kiss.

"Promise to behave?" I felt his smile on my mouth. His arm circled my shoulders and drew me against his shoulder while he pursued his persuasion technique. Summoning my last shred of willpower, I pushed away. "Jordan, I'm serious."

"I'll agree to anything, just don't go home." My pulse quickened at the husky tone of his voice.

"You get to call Brittany."

The light rain showers that started earlier in the evening had turned to sheets of water waving sideways in the headlights. "Stay put. I'll get your door." He was soaked in the few seconds it took to get from one side of the car to the other.

We ran across the front lawn, so saturated it actually splashed. The gray and white marble floor inside qualified as an ice rink. I grabbed the sleeve of Jordan's shirt when my leg precariously flipped into the air. He latched onto me, wrenching my shirt sideways. Loose buttons scattered everywhere.

"Blue, my favorite color." Too late to cover my exposed bra.

"They're all your favorite color." I joked, knotting my shirttails across my chest.

Once inside his apartment, I placed my soggy shoes next to Jordan's on the gray drip mat protecting the granite entry floor. Jordan tugged his wet polo shirt over his head and dropped it onto the arm of one of the overstuffed burgundy leather chairs that faced a small white leather sofa. I doubted I'd ever be comfortable in the lavish lifestyle Jordan lived. He was completely unaware how what felt normal to him, intimidated everyone else.

My damp bare feet sank into the heavily-padded gray carpet and I contemplated staying rooted where I stood when Jordan turned on the fireplace and dimmed the lights. The firelight bounced off his naked torso as he lit a smattering of candles encased in colorful red and turquoise glass jars lined across the mantle. Music played softly from various speakers hidden in the room. He glanced at me, a calculated smile holding a promise to push limits, linked between dimples.

The hormonal side of my brain locked away the common sense side immediately.

Jordan lowered onto the black fur rug in front of the fire and tipped his head in an invitation for me to join him in the intimate setting. A shiver shimmied over me, more from nervousness than the chilled air when I eased down beside him. He fingered a damp curl draping over my brow.

"You're soaked, babe." Another quivering tremble snaked over my body. "And chilled." His arm circled my shoulder and he tried to pull me close, but I pressed my hand to his chest. A warm chest. Even the soft dusting of hair that started between his pecs and trailed South, felt hot and dry beneath my fingertips—fingertips that seemed to have a mind of their own as they drew slow circles across Jordan's upper body. His eyes took on a dreamy haze, his mouth pulling into a small, sexy bow that deepened the dimples.

A throaty voice I didn't recognize spoke through my mouth. "My shirt's wet. And you're dry."

Jordan leaned in, his gaze locked on my lips, which suddenly felt dry. I licked them, pulling my bottom lip back into my mouth with my tongue's retreat. Jordan's thumb tugged it from my teeth and stroked the sensitive skin in a lazy caress. His dark eyes locked me in a sexy stare as he laid his mouth softly against mine—still slack and open. The tip of his tongue traced the inside of my lips and I couldn't remember taking a breath, nor did I want to and break the spell.

"You could take the shirt off," he whispered, beckoning my tongue to come play. He undid the two buttons that hadn't popped off. The shirt lay open, his hand wrapping the back of my neck and eyes holding mine hostage. "Or I could."

I think I mumbled
okay,
although it may have been my thoughts begging him to. Without stopping the seductive tease between our mouths, he slipped his hands inside my blouse and eased the fabric off my shoulders. Fingertips caressed my arms encouraging flickers of heat to ignite places his hands didn't touch. One lone finger drew a line from the shell of my ear, slowly down my neck, meeting the swell of my breast and dipping under the edge of my lace bra.

His touch, soft, yet deliberate, became my sole focus. The warmth inside my body overpowered the heat of the fire blazing a few feet away. Moist lips tasted my bare shoulder, my bra strap now hanging in a loose sling on my arm and Jordan's hand splayed between my shoulder blades, waiting permission to remove the blue lace contraption straining against my heavy breaths.

Jordan had seen me in a bra, explored my chest with tender hands many times, always with consent, but over fabric, fingertips sweeping barely beneath lace-trimmed edges. Never had his palms touched the sensitive skin or his mouth traveled beyond where his fingers traced. At this moment, however, with the firelight illuminating the dewy sheen glittering on Jordan's naked chest; his dark eyes holding mine hostage in visual foreplay, and hungry kisses I wanted feasting on my body,
any
fabric barrier was subject to removal.

I pulled Jordan on top of me as I lay in the furry cushion beneath us. Snap. One hook released.

"Jordan, wait," I panted against his mouth.

"What if I can't?" he asked, his breath on my neck triggering a rush of gooseflesh. The hard ridge pressing my stomach hinted this might be true. He pulled his hand from behind my back leaving one tiny metal bracket as the only guard to the lace barrier separating my skin from Jordan's searing touch—something I suddenly craved.

Jordan's mouth moved over my ear. "I want you, Marli. All of you."

He always teased, but his tone, the way the words filled me, told me this time it was for real. Jordan wanted to go all the way—break all the rules.

"I-I'm not sure—"

He stroked between my legs—something he'd
never
done before and I knew he felt the lie I'd spoken when my body rose to meet his touch. My eyes disappeared deep their sockets and I mashed a hungry kiss to his mouth when my body responded to the awakening flames of heat licking every nerve ending.

Suddenly, I understood the sensation of
need
I'd only read about on steamy pages of romance novels, or listened to Alex drone on about in hushed whispers to David on her cell receptor when she thought no one listened. I wished I'd paid attention because I'd entered uncharted territory without any direction other than to follow uncontrolled impulses—like smoothing my hand over the bulge in the front of Jordan's jeans.

The moan traveling over my tongue from somewhere deep in his chest sent shivers bubbling over my skin. When my fingers stilled, he begged me not to stop, his ragged breathing only encouraging the fervor holding me hostage.

Jordan popped the top snap of my jeans open and tugged the zipper down, but when his fingers dipped into the lace edge of my panties, the common sense subconscious I'd buried deep, broke free and rushed forward.

Stop Marli!

I don't want to
, I mentally argued, unzipping Jordan's pants.

You want more—the whole fairytale—hearts, roses—the promise of something beyond tonight—

Two more seconds and my sanity would surrender and I'd give in to Jordan, to my body, to whatever I had to do to douse the scorching fire before it consumed me and turned me to ash.

You want the happy-ever-after—something special—a "forever love."

I clamped Jordan's hand and shut my lips against his. The words "I can't" were barely audible and I took the first deep breath I remembered inhaling since I walked in the room. Jordan said nothing, his body heavy over mine and breath hot on the nape of my neck. His arms spread outward over the carpet; wings holding prey in place. Slowly, he rolled off to the side, silent and gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Unaware my jeans had slipped, or been pulled down, exposing part of my backside to the woolen rug, I felt an unexpected blush of embarrassment and tugged them back over my hips. Jordan's chest still rose and fell with exaggerated breaths; the only sign of "life" given he remained motionless.

I crawled to the sofa, pulled off the lap quilt his grandmother had made him, and wrapped into a cocoon in the corner. My body ached, possibly with regret, and the tingles eased, but the feeling of where Jordan's hand had caressed still burned. Curling into my familiar protective position, I squeezed my thighs, not to erase the sensation, but to keep it trapped.

Jordan lie a few feet away, a
sizable
change in his silhouette against the fire resurrecting the memory of the first time we talked about sex. The fear that my first time could, in all likelihood, be painful appeared a real possibility.

He yanked his zipper closed and turned his head my direction as if reading my thoughts and my cheeks warmed. "You okay?" he asked, his voice raspy but full of genuine concern.

The sting of tears pricked my eyes. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I know I frustrate you, and tonight I really—"

Jordan was next to me before I completed the sentence. After spending the summer together, he knew better than to unfold me when my knees pressed beneath my chin. Cautiously, he reached out and fingered a loose curl.

"Marli…babe, I don't want you to ever feel guilty about shutting me down. I will never push for more than you're willing to give, got that?"

"I know," I answered into the fabric bunched around my face.

He leaned against me, perching his head on my knees. "Sweetheart, when the time is right for
both
of us, it will be amazing. Tonight, just isn't that time." His thumb swiped my wet cheeks. "I love you, Marli Davis, but more important, I respect you."

Jordan stood and held out his hand. "Come on." I let him tug me into his bedroom, dragging my quilt cape as I walked. The bed had been neatly turned down with not so much as a crease in the pillowcases. He turned on the lamp sitting on the night table before walking over to his dresser and retrieving a navy blue T-shirt from the drawer for me.

He pressed a light kiss to my forehead. "I'm sleeping on the couch." His finger pushed my lips when I started to object. "Lock the door behind me."

"Jordan, what are we going to do about us?" I risked asking before he closed the door.

He scrubbed a hand through his unruly locks. Only a ghost of a smile moved his lips, which worried me. "I've got an idea, but it's late and I don't have enough hearts and roses. Now lock the door and get some sleep."