PhoenixKiss (8 page)

Those things, combined with the sensual hold he somehow had
on her, made him damn irresistible.

Layla’s breathing became a little bit faster, a little bit
shallow. Jordan took one of her wrists, circled it with the cotton tie and
attached it to the legs of the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

When he repeated the process with the other wrist and both
her ankles, she lay there, helpless.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Whenever you want me to release
you, ask and I will. Okay?”

She nodded and didn’t resist when he removed her towel. The
heated gaze he gave her, seeing her like this, excited her, undid her, made her
want to give him anything he wanted, anything he desired.

Her breathing quickened and she fought hard not to panic.
She didn’t do things like this, had never before been tied up during sex. She’d
never been this vulnerable to anyone.

“You look so sexy lying there like that.” The timbre of his
voice had changed. He stood at the foot of the chaise. “Are you ready to scream
my name? Are you ready to beg me to start? To stop?”

His words had her panting.

He began at her feet, kissing, nibbling, rubbing. His touch
felt like heaven, warm and assertive. Powerful. Tiny spasms shot upward, made
her thighs tremble, and she strained against the ties at her wrists.

A delicate air stream of heat went up and down her leg and
she realized that it was him, blowing on her skin. A series of hot flashes
broke out across her body, her nipples hardened and she felt the first release
of hot cream between her legs.

Jordan made circles over her knees. “Are you ready for me to
taste you?”

She bucked against him. “Yes…oh yes.”

But he didn’t oblige her. He only grazed his finger over her
clit, causing her to groan in ecstasy. He moved higher, teasing her stomach,
licking the dent of her navel.

A gasp hitched in her throat as she felt his breath over her
nipple before he took it inside his mouth and pulled.

She screamed, unable to help herself, as he went from one
breast to the other and back again, kissing and teasing, sucking. White-hot
pleasure seared her body from the inside out.

Jordan’s mouth became an instrument of both pleasure and
torture. He licked and bit, grazed and nipped. From her head to her feet and
everywhere in between, he tasted her. Over and over he teased her, pleasured
her. It was an utter blissfulness she’d never experienced in her life.

Even though she twisted up and bucked out, cried and begged,
he wouldn’t give her the release she craved. Finally, he untied her legs,
grabbed her behind the knees and pushed them upward so her vulva rested against
his throbbing length. She stretched her neck and moaned, loving the feel of him
so close to her, sliding over her clit.

“I can’t take this. Please, Jordan.”

Jordan smoothed his hands over her waist and ribs, and up
higher to cup her breasts, gently squeezing them. He bent and fastened his
mouth over one straining tip. “You taste so sweet.”

With her knees, she gripped him. “Please. Please,” she
begged on a whimper. Fire swept through her limbs, filling her with a restless
need. She wanted him inside her, pushing deep.

“I’m not done. There’s more. Always more.”

His arousal stroked her, made her buck off the bed, stole
her breath, until he finally sank himself inside her and filled her in a way
she’d never thought possible.

He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. When he
looked at her, she felt like the center of his universe. “My God. What are you
doing to me?”

In her mind, she heard
making you love me
in his deep
timbre but his lips never moved. Why? She didn’t know. Was he projecting his
thoughts into her head? Was that possible? Was that what he wanted?

She knew it was unlikely, knew that when this night was up,
she would most assuredly never see him again once she revealed his secret. He
wouldn’t want her love. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her.

He ran his tongue up her neck, nibbled on her ear, moved to
her mouth and licked. Tugging at her bottom lip, he dipped his tongue inside,
stopped and groaned then tilted his head to her neck, where he stayed.

Wanting to touch him, she pulled against the ties at her
wrists. She wanted to feel his sinewy muscle beneath the tips of her fingers,
curve her arms around his neck and pull him so close he’d never want to relinquish
her.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

His gaze went to hers. Her breathing was ragged, shaky. He
released her but locked his fingers with hers and raised them above her head.

Jordan’s face was a mask of pleasure and pain, the cords of
his neck standing out, the muscles in his shoulders tense.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes off him.

At that, he lowered his head back to her neck and thrust
powerfully, sinking into her, stretching and filling, an action that ripped a
helpless cry from her throat.

“Kiss me, damn it,” she hissed at him again, her head
angling upward.

But he still didn’t. Putting his forehead against hers, he
thrust into her again and again, leaving her gasping for air.

Layla went over the edge, falling, careening, no landing in
sight. And Jordan leapt with her. A thundering cry ripped from his throat, his
head tilted to the sky, eyes closed.

After he collapsed on top of her, he pulled her against him
and held her tight for a very long time.

Chapter Seven

“This is a movie lover’s wet dream.” Layla stood back, hands
at her waist, staring at a wall of shelves filled with DVDs. “How many do you
have?”

“A little over a thousand, I think, the last time I entered
the new ones into my database.”

They were in Jordan’s theater room on the second floor of
his home. It was completely windowless and a giant one-hundred-and-ten-foot
screen took up one wall. The movies took up another. There were two rows of
theater seats, one about two feet higher than the other. All the walls were a deep
navy blue and so was the carpet.

“You have a database?”

“I keep a record of every movie I buy, yes.”

Layla shook her head.

“For insurance purposes.”

“Sure. I, however, think you do it because you’re anal.”

“You’ve been standing there for ten minutes. Pick one
already,” he told her as he made a huge batch of buttery popcorn on the
old-fashioned maker sitting in the corner.

“How can I? There’re too many. I mean, this is like telling
a kid to pick out his favorite candy in a warehouse.”

He laughed. “Either choose something or I will and you won’t
like it because it’ll have blood and guts and car chases in it.”

She peered at him over her shoulder. “Hey, I don’t mind a
good action film.”

“Good. Sit down then. I have just the thing,” he said as he
gave her the tub.

“Oh, this smells heavenly.”

She sat in the front row in the middle set of chairs and
pulled her legs up under her. After they’d showered, Jordan had given her a
pair of shorts, another T-shirt and warm socks. Once he put in the movie, he
turned off the lights. When he saw her rub her arms, he tossed her an afghan
and joined her in the next seat.

Layla stuck the popcorn between them as the movie started.
Once the title sequence came up, she exclaimed, “Oh, this is one of my
favorites. I love Matt Damon. He kicks major butt in this series.”

“Unwrap yourself,” he said and took her legs and placed them
in his lap.

The gesture was so unexpected, she leaned over and kissed
him on the cheek, which surprised her. She’d almost made the mistake of
thinking they were on an actual date again, thinking this was something they
always did. The third or fourth time she’d made that error tonight.

As she ate her snack, she couldn’t help but think about her
predicament. She knew she had the story of the century but now she wasn’t so
sure she wanted to tell it. But if she showed up for work tomorrow with no
story, she’d be out of a job.

She’d spent an incredible evening with Jordan and it wasn’t
even over yet. He had a magnetic personality and she realized it was why he was
so successful and what drew women to him.

She was really beginning to like him and deep down she
wished their relationship could turn into something more. But other than a few
touches here and there, a casual gesture like putting her feet in his lap, he’d
given her no indication they could be anything more.

Layla knew she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. She’d
broken in Jordan’s home, his private sanctuary, and had every intention of
exposing his secret to the world. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her
after she did.

Did she save her career or follow her heart?

After the movie, she accompanied him into his living room.
They were facing each other on a large, cream-colored couch with dozens of
multicolored throw pillows, sharing warmed-up cinnamon rolls and orange juice.
Two matching chairs sat adjacent to the couch, and in between the set was a
square, glass coffee table.

It was so domestic, it scared her.

“How is it that instead of spending your evening with a
boyfriend or spouse, you broke into my house and now you’re spending the night
with me?”

“Well, let’s be clear. If you would have graciously answered
my questions, I wouldn’t be here.”

“True. But where’s the fun in that?”

Layla lowered her head. “Tonight has been fun.” She didn’t
look at him, and became weirded out that she had actually confessed it.

“Why don’t you have a husband or a boyfriend?”

“I can’t seem to find anyone who…” She didn’t know how much
she wanted to reveal with her answer. Did she tell him the last few
relationships she’d been in had ended because the men didn’t believe in her,
didn’t support her or have confidence in her abilities? Exactly like her
parents.

“Who what?” he probed.

She stood and walked to the window facing the front of the
house and stared into the darkness. “I haven’t found anyone who fits, who fits
me. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“I mean, they were okay guys I guess but when I expressed a
desire to change my career, to take some time off and try to pursue my dream of
becoming a writer, well, they didn’t actually encourage me. Told me to stick to
what I was good at, stick to the career path I’d chosen.” Give up on her
dreams.

“Sounds like your parents.”

“That’s what I thought too so after the last one I decided
relationships aren’t for me.” She twisted around and grinned. “But I guess you
know all about that.”

Jordan quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t spend a long time in relationships either.”

“Women begin to expect things like commitment if you’re with
them for very long.”

“Yeah, like marriage proposals.” Once upon a time she’d
believed in love and relationships that eventually ended in marriage. But after
so many failed attempts, as long as she found a guy to hit the right spot every
once in a while, she didn’t need the rest. “And you don’t believe in love and
marriage proposals?”

“I believe in both. To the right person.”

“But I have a feeling you’re not looking for the right
person. Is there some type of special mating ritual for a phoenix?”

He gave her a curious glance, a mix between irritation and
she didn’t know quite what but she was sure he didn’t want to answer the
question.

“There’s not so much a ritual but an act that seals a bond
between a phoenix and his or her chosen mate.”

Layla knew what it was, instinctively, as soon as he said
it. She’d wondered all night why he hadn’t and now she knew. “A kiss.”

His gaze flew up to meet hers. After a beat, he nodded.
“When a phoenix chooses a mate, he seals it with a kiss.”

“You mean you’ve never kissed anyone? Ever?”

Jordan laughed briefly. “It comes into effect during
adulthood. I sneaked a kiss or two during my teenage years but other than that,
no.”

It hurt to hear it. Why did she expect meeting her would
change him? Why did she think she was the one woman who fit him? She knew
better. Why did she think spending one night with the most incredible man she’d
ever met would change anything for him?

It certainly had for her. “I guess you haven’t found anyone
who’s fit you either?”

He didn’t answer her.

Chapter Eight

“Okay, what are all these for?”

At his dresser, Jordan pulled out clothes and tossed them to
her. A T-shirt landed right over her head and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Put them on.” Jordan was trying to keep them both busy,
himself busy, really. He didn’t want time to think and he certainly didn’t want
to hear her thoughts. After they’d made love…no, had sex…by the pool and spent
a little more time together, his mind had become jumbled.

She lifted the items up one a time. “Another shirt, two pair
of shorts, a pair of pajama pants, two pairs of socks. Are we going to spend
the rest of the night in a freezer or something?”

Jordan pulled the same number of items out and put them on
too. “Come on. Humor me. Get dressed and you’ll see.”

She grudgingly got up. “Okay. But this is a little weird.”

He smiled and sat on the bed to pull on his socks. When he
looked back up again, he chuckled. “You look like a hobo.”

She grabbed a pillow off his bed and tossed it at him.
“Um…you don’t look like Mr.
GQ
yourself.”

He glanced down. “Okay. Point taken.”

He grabbed her and something sizzled. His fingers trailed
upward until they moved over her lips. He framed her face and tilted it up
slightly. Why was he standing there staring into her beautiful face? Why did a
longing, so intense, begin to build in the part of his chest he’d allowed no
one to ever touch?