Restoring Jordan (8 page)

Jordan looks to Vera, and I take the opportunity to disappear in quick retreat. I spend the majority of the evening hiding in a side hallway, coming out only for wine. When Bridget finds me, she drags me from my hiding spot and pulls me to the bar. While it’s a lie, she gushes about my dress and does her best to make me feel like something other than a fish out of water. When people dance as the music begins to play, I count the minutes until I can safely make a run for it without being rude. I don’t want to be here. I’m embarrassed and still recovering from the mortification of my meeting with Mark earlier in the day, and every time a new person eyes my poor choice of a dress, ridiculing me with their gaze, my resolve fades.

When at last I’ve put in enough of a presence to leave, I’m caught off guard when a hand touches my elbow. I’m standing at the bar sipping my third glass of wine. Bridget left me to dance with a nerdy-looking man named Charles from the accounting department, leaving me awkward and uncomfortable once again, and as warm fingers enclose my elbow in a gentle grip, I turn to find Jordan looking at me. He is beautiful, and I’m once again drawn to his mouth. His lips are parted as his tongue grazes over his bottom lip while he stares at me.

When I drag my gaze back to his, he demands, “Dance.” He watches me coolly as a warm shudder runs through me.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” It’s all I can manage to say. Truth be told, I want to dance with him, I want his hands on me again, but keeping my distance is the only way to protect myself from him right now. I have no idea what he is thinking about our meeting gone to hell earlier in the day, and not knowing has me vulnerable and terrified.

But leaning to the side of my face, he whispers in my ear. “Really? My cock has been inside your body, and you think a dance is inappropriate?” Now my body is on fire, and the fear before has suddenly become a surging warmth, leaving me trembling and gasping for breath, but he’s not finished. “My tongue has tasted the most intimate part of your body, but a dance is too much to ask? Do I need to remind you your blood has been all over my groin?” Of course he doesn’t, but he is intent on reminding me of our every last intimate touch, and as he tugs on my elbow toward the dance floor, I set my drink on the bar and obediently follow.

His hand moves from its warm grip on my elbow to trail an equally warm path to my lower back. His other hand enfolds mine. My hand finds his bicep and the strength of his well-defined muscles through his tuxedo jacket. Jordan moves us slowly through the crowd and people part away from us. I’m sure this is how he lives his life, people constantly stepping out of his way as he moves easily through the world. His eyes stay on me as we move together, and his hand remains at the small of my back, inching just marginally lower as the orchestral piece moves along slowly. He says nothing to me, but continues to watch. The intensity of his eyes is incredible, and it brings memories flooding back—his body, his large and rigid arousal, his desire, his pounding force that so painfully took my body, and I’m left desperate for escape as the song winds to an end. I’ve enjoyed the past week, working with him, but he can also be a complete asshole, and even if he can be kind and touch gently, he has the power to destroy me. He’s done it once, using my humiliation to strike back at my challenge of him, and I won’t put myself in that position—least of all now that I’ve given him a reason to be angry with my pathetic performance earlier today. But he’s not angry, and as he apologizes quietly for Mark’s behavior, his eyes full of sincerity, I melt.

I owe him an explanation. “Jordan … Mark asked me out to dinner a few days ago, and I turned him down. I can’t say it had anything to do with what happened today, but he’s definitely treated me different since then, and…”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner?” His face is suddenly harsh; his expression serious. “Jesus, Adeline.” He’s angry.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” I’m barely whispering as his harsh eyes bear down on me.

“I would never have put you up there to pitch the design, knowing that. I’d have at least put a stop to it sooner had I known there was no basis for his bullshit! Damn it, Adeline.”

But as quickly as our most enjoyable dance turned sour, it now turns toxic as Vera appears out of nowhere and takes Jordan by the arm. I pull myself from him, trying to quickly retreat. The last thing I want to endure is the hatred of Vera as I steal myself from Jordan, but it’s too late. Jordan’s grip on my arm clamps down as I step away from him. His eyes bore into me, and as Vera looks between us I look only at him. Vera is as intoxicated as ever and smiling warmly at Jordan, but as her eyes pass to me the hatred radiates from her.

“Throwing the intern a bone, are we?” She’s speaking to Jordan, implying I’m nothing more than a pathetic title not even worthy of a name, let alone a dance with this man.

But Jordan isn’t interested in offending me on this night, and I’m thankful for that much. “Her name is Adeline, Vera, and I doubt she refers to you as the interior designer, so perhaps you could show her the same respect and use her name.” His words bite, and she recoils and removes her hand that is so obviously not welcome on his arm. His hand is still holding my arm gently but firmly. I want to be away from Vera, but I’m suddenly most engaged in being near Jordan.

“Fine, Adeline.” And turning to me, she speaks once more. Her expression is hateful and her words are as well. “I should have mentioned this would be black tie … my mistake. But hey, you won’t be around long enough for anyone to remember how ridiculous you look, so take heart, dear
Adeline
.”

And as Jordan opens his mouth to likely berate her, Mr. Foster appears and claps a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Adeline, right? Are you enjoying your evening?” I nod but am still flustered by Vera’s words. I’m embarrassed, and now I have yet another pair of eyes taking in my appearance. Mr. Foster is kind though, and after appraising me he continues. “You remind me of my daughter in that dress. It’s exactly something she would wear, and it looks lovely.” The quick wink of his eye is all that’s needed for my emotions to unravel and for the impending tears to prick my eyes, and as I look to Jordan, begging him with my eyes to release me, he understands. With a furrow of his brow, he finally lets go of the warm grip on my arm. I bid both Mr. Foster and Jordan a quick good night, ignoring Vera as I turn and stumble through the crowd.

I’m done. This day has been more than I can handle, and I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve fought my tears for the last time, and there is nothing that will keep me here any longer. Vera is a bitch, and Jordan intimidates and confuses me far more than my fragile emotions can tolerate at the moment. Mr. Foster may have been kind, but I can’t handle one more person appraising me in pity or ridicule. When I exit the building, however, I’m devastated to see it’s pouring rain. I have no umbrella, and I will now be forced to walk the three blocks in my uncomfortable shoes through a rainstorm. Brilliant, but at least I’m free of the intimidation of Foster’s dinner.

As my tears finally fall freely, I plunge headlong into the wall of rain, shuffling my feet quickly down the sidewalk. I’m moving as swiftly as I can, but the rain is coming so fast the sidewalk is moving with a sheet of water over its surface. My strappy silver heels are protecting my feet in no way, and by the time I reach the street in front of Architectural Artifacts, I’m soaked to the skin and not an inch of my body is dry. I make it a block before my first mishap. When I take a wrong step, my heel catches in a sidewalk grate, and as my foot is propelled forward by my step, my shoe unfortunately is not. I end up with one shoe on and one sticking out of the grate in the sidewalk, but as I pull and yank on the shoe it won’t budge. A car turns down the street, but I’m so immersed in my fight against the grate I don’t realize this car is looking for me.

With one final tug, I loosen the shoe and topple backward on my butt, hitting hard with a
thud
. I’m now sitting drenched on the sidewalk with my shoe in my hand, crying pitifully. The car has now made its way to me, and the moment the car is stopped at the curb, Jordan exits quickly and approaches, pulling me to stand in front of him. His eyes are dark and intense as they take in mine, and in one swift moment he lunges for my lips and captures them with his own. His kiss is passionate, harsh, and desperate, and it feels so good. The rain is cool on my skin, but his lips are warm and send their warmth coursing through my body. He moves his hands to grip my hips and pushes me back to the side of his car. In haste, he pulls the fitted skirt of my dress to my waist, strips my underwear down my legs, lifts me to the hood of his car, and pushes between my thighs.

His mouth remains locked to mine, and his tongue thrusts and forces its way between my lips. He tastes of wine, and his tongue runs along mine as it searches every last surface of my mouth. His hands abandon my cheeks he’s held in his clasp since lifting me to the hood, and he pulls out a condom from his pocket and presses it into the palm of my hand. With his hands free, he hastily unbuttons his pants, slides the zipper down, and grabs the condom from my hand. His mouth is still owning mine, but as he tears open the condom wrapper, he leaves my lips and looks to my eyes while he works with quick hands. I want to hold his eyes that are dark and searing and so damn seductive, but instead my gaze moves to his incredible arousal jutting between our bodies, and once he’s rolled the condom down his length, he pulls my hips to teeter on the edge of his car. He holds me still as his penis glides between the slick lips of my sex. The rain continues to pound our bodies, and the cooling effect on my heated and sensitized skin is arousing. He leans to my mouth for one last sweet kiss before his lips trail to my ear. His breathing is coming in gasps, and as I push my groin toward his, he lets out a deep and warm moan against my neck.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I woke and found you gone from my bed. Ask me for it. Please.” He thrusts gently against my sex as he speaks, and there is no denying my want as well. My body is drenched in wetness, not just from the rain that beats down on us and around us, enveloping us in a soft echoing waterfall.

“Please fuck me.” Without hesitating, he grips my hips and pushes his entire length inside my body as his gaze holds mine and his mouth drops open. The pain is a stab to my womb, and as I cry out he patiently watches my eyes for the pain to subside. I nod when I’m ready for him to move again, and he withdraws quickly before thrusting back within my tight sheath. His hands remain on my hips as he continues to stroke in and out of my body, his intensity building with each stroke, and as his thrusts quicken and the pounding force as well, my body loosens and relaxes to his invasion.

The orgasm building within my body promises to erupt in ecstasy at any moment, and as his breathing becomes faster and his movements more desperate, I come with an incredible moan and my head falls back. The spasms that wrack my body are ceaseless, and as they work their way through my body, the rain beats down on my upturned face and chest. Jordan’s release comes soon after, and as a growl is released from his throat he pulls me to his body, holding me tight to his chest with my head buried in his neck. His stomach muscles quiver as surge after surge of his cum is released within the condom.

He holds our bodies together while our breathing slows and eventually returns to normal. The rain continues to cascade over us. It cools and refreshes my skin as the flush finally abates, and when he pulls from my body, the water runs down my stomach, washing over the sensitive skin of my sex. As I slide from the hood of his car, he pulls the skirt of my dress back down my thighs, and once his clothes are back in place he opens the passenger door of his car for me.

I look at the leather and then at myself with a grimace on my face, and he leans to my ear and speaks. “You’re not getting any dryer standing out here. It’s okay. Get in.” I settle into the seat as he rounds the car to the driver’s side, sliding in next to me. And as he starts the car and pulls into the quiet deserted street, his hand moves to my leg and then eventually to my hand.

*

God, she’ll be the death of me, but I will surely enjoy every moment of my demise. Watching her on the street tugging at her shoe, standing drenched and frustrated was a turn on. I wanted to help her; like some chivalrous prick from another time, I wanted to be her knight in shining armor. Seeing her fall to her butt didn’t help matters. I was practically out of the car before I’d put it in park to pull her to her feet.

The entire evening was one long build-up to my cock invading her body. Catching site of her in yet another failed attempt at style had me wanting to defend her to the death from the pariahs at Foster’s. They’re not all cruel, judgmental assholes, but there are certainly enough to cause my sweet innocent crush more than enough embarrassment than I can handle. My nerves were already shot from our nightmare of a meeting earlier in the day, but then Vera came along and my hackles were raised at once. Adeline looked amazing, underdressed but ten times more beautiful than any of the other women in the room. Pins held back her long, chestnut hair from her face. The length trailed down her back in loose curls that nearly reached her waist. The dress had me drooling. The fabric was a structured little piece that fit to a T. The strapless top showed me exactly where my lips wanted to be on her collarbone, and the skirt that fell above her knees was a constant temptation to my hand that so wanted to caress her thigh.

When I finally had her within my arms on the dance floor, I was ready to mount her body. Her breath was ragged, and she wanted it. Her admission that Mark had come on to her threw me for a loop completely. I wasn’t mad at her, but I was livid at him. What a pompous prick to think he could behave in such a way just because she turned him down, but again, my frustration came out aimed in her direction. I was more hurt she hadn’t confided this bit of information in me before now, but I wasn’t angry at her; not her. She suffered so much at Mark’s hands this afternoon that all I wanted was to take her away from the nightmare she faced at Trigg’s, and now I’ve managed to cross the line I’ve been fantasizing about crossing for weeks now.