crazy. There is no way I’ll fit on there with you.”
“Sure you will.” He pats the seat again.
“It won’t hold us both,” I protest.
“Stop arguing and come here.” His feet drag on the ground until the swing stops moving. Groaning at losing the battle, I drag my feet over to the swing.
“If this thing collapses on us, you’re walking back home.”
A light breeze floats through the naked trees, rattling the wispy branches. No matter what I do the shivers won’t stop. I move to try to squeeze next to Jordan, who only scoots to the middle of the seat.
“Sit on my lap,” he says while he reaches toward my hips. My breath hitches and my heart hammers in my chest. Biting my bottom lip, I go to turn, but he pulls me toward his legs. “Hold on to the rope and put your legs over mine.”
Pink roses bloom on my cheeks. He’s asking me to straddle him, which is terribly frightening for multiple reasons.
“I can’t,” I say with a squeak. “What if it breaks?”
“You’ll be fine,” he coaxes. The fingers of his good hand tug on a belt loop of my skinny jeans. My heart is pounding in my ears. I swallow against the lump forming in my throat and slowly sit on his lap, straddling him, leaving no space between us. I close my eyes tightly against the impending collapse of the swing, but it holds firm, and suddenly Jordan pushes us off the ground and we’re swinging slowly in the night.
“See, I told you,” he whispers. His words alight on my cheek, resting there as light as a butterfly. All I can do is nod my head; looking at him is too painful, with his brown sugar eyes and angled jaw—all things that point to perfection. My rules flash before my eyes and for the first time I feel something changing and it scares me. I can’t let the rules go. I can’t dismiss them and why I created them.
When I get nervous my jaw trembles, and it’s going a million miles a minute now. Jordan mistakes my shivers for being cold, and cold is the one thing I am not.
The swing stops, Jordan’s feet rest on the ground, and he pulls my hands off the rope, guiding them to my lap. He wraps his arms around my back, enveloping me in his warmth and the shivers multiply.
“God, you’re freezing,” he says, and pulls me closer. My head falls to the crook of his neck and I breathe him in. Between his new clothes and the summery smell of the body wash he’s using, I could stay right here all night.
“I’m okay,” I say as I huddle down further into his chest. Jordan’s head rests on mine, his scruffy jaw pokes through my hair, and I resist the overwhelming urge to pull his face to mine. What is wrong with me? I created my rules years ago so that situations like this would not happen…not that I ever expected this . When his lips brush over my hair I know I’ve got to pull away. Sitting up on his lap, we’re now face-to-face and his eyes travel to my lips. His own twitch and he licks them slowly.
“And this is where I exit,” I say, stumbling out of our mess of tangled legs. My right foot gets stuck and I topple to the ground, landing on a sharp rock. Holy hell, the rock stabs my butt, sending a sharp pain down my leg. Jordan quickly stands and helps me to my feet, and it’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Crap, that hurt,” I whimper, and close my eyes.
“Want me to take a look?” His eyes uber-focus on my butt and I push him away.
“Get away, you pig,” I tease. “I think I broke my butt.”
Chapter 19
Jordan
I have never been more turned on than I am right now. Jemma keeps rubbing her hand on her ass where she fell and good hell if I don’t want to do it for her. She half limps, half walks back to her car where she slowly lowers herself into the driver’s seat. I would have offered to drive, but the shakes come randomly and, well, let’s just say they seem to be worse depending on my arousal.
Each time we come close to kissing, she pulls away,
“Sure you will.” He pats the seat again.
“It won’t hold us both,” I protest.
“Stop arguing and come here.” His feet drag on the ground until the swing stops moving. Groaning at losing the battle, I drag my feet over to the swing.
“If this thing collapses on us, you’re walking back home.”
A light breeze floats through the naked trees, rattling the wispy branches. No matter what I do the shivers won’t stop. I move to try to squeeze next to Jordan, who only scoots to the middle of the seat.
“Sit on my lap,” he says while he reaches toward my hips. My breath hitches and my heart hammers in my chest. Biting my bottom lip, I go to turn, but he pulls me toward his legs. “Hold on to the rope and put your legs over mine.”
Pink roses bloom on my cheeks. He’s asking me to straddle him, which is terribly frightening for multiple reasons.
“I can’t,” I say with a squeak. “What if it breaks?”
“You’ll be fine,” he coaxes. The fingers of his good hand tug on a belt loop of my skinny jeans. My heart is pounding in my ears. I swallow against the lump forming in my throat and slowly sit on his lap, straddling him, leaving no space between us. I close my eyes tightly against the impending collapse of the swing, but it holds firm, and suddenly Jordan pushes us off the ground and we’re swinging slowly in the night.
“See, I told you,” he whispers. His words alight on my cheek, resting there as light as a butterfly. All I can do is nod my head; looking at him is too painful, with his brown sugar eyes and angled jaw—all things that point to perfection. My rules flash before my eyes and for the first time I feel something changing and it scares me. I can’t let the rules go. I can’t dismiss them and why I created them.
When I get nervous my jaw trembles, and it’s going a million miles a minute now. Jordan mistakes my shivers for being cold, and cold is the one thing I am not.
The swing stops, Jordan’s feet rest on the ground, and he pulls my hands off the rope, guiding them to my lap. He wraps his arms around my back, enveloping me in his warmth and the shivers multiply.
“God, you’re freezing,” he says, and pulls me closer. My head falls to the crook of his neck and I breathe him in. Between his new clothes and the summery smell of the body wash he’s using, I could stay right here all night.
“I’m okay,” I say as I huddle down further into his chest. Jordan’s head rests on mine, his scruffy jaw pokes through my hair, and I resist the overwhelming urge to pull his face to mine. What is wrong with me? I created my rules years ago so that situations like this would not happen…not that I ever expected this . When his lips brush over my hair I know I’ve got to pull away. Sitting up on his lap, we’re now face-to-face and his eyes travel to my lips. His own twitch and he licks them slowly.
“And this is where I exit,” I say, stumbling out of our mess of tangled legs. My right foot gets stuck and I topple to the ground, landing on a sharp rock. Holy hell, the rock stabs my butt, sending a sharp pain down my leg. Jordan quickly stands and helps me to my feet, and it’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Crap, that hurt,” I whimper, and close my eyes.
“Want me to take a look?” His eyes uber-focus on my butt and I push him away.
“Get away, you pig,” I tease. “I think I broke my butt.”
Chapter 19
Jordan
I have never been more turned on than I am right now. Jemma keeps rubbing her hand on her ass where she fell and good hell if I don’t want to do it for her. She half limps, half walks back to her car where she slowly lowers herself into the driver’s seat. I would have offered to drive, but the shakes come randomly and, well, let’s just say they seem to be worse depending on my arousal.
Each time we come close to kissing, she pulls away,
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