I lift my head, placing my arms behind for support, and bring my face closer to his. “She wants,” I murmur.
His pupils dilate, eyes darkening with lust.
“Actually, Dozer can wait a bit longer to be fed.” His hand moves down my body. Lifting slightly, he puts it between us, slipping his finger inside me.
“Oh, my god,” I breathe. I feel him grow hard against my thigh.
“Babe, so wet … already,” he groans.
“It’s you … what you do to me.”
“And I plan on doing a whole lot more,” he promises before sealing his mouth over mine.
***
After making love to me, Jordan finally relents and goes to feed Dozer.
I retrieve my panties, and put on one of Jordan’s t-shirts that I nab from his closet. It’s huge on me, nearly reaching my knees.
I’m wandering around his bedroom, looking at a map of the world he has tacked to the wall. There are pins in it with a drawn line under the pins, marking the route of all the places he has traveled. The last pin is in Thailand, but the drawn line goes onto India, through Nepal, then across China to Hong Kong, up to Shanghai, finally ending in Japan. I’m guessing that’s where he would have gone if his trip hadn’t ended early.
I look at the photos pinned up around the map, pictures of a slightly younger Jordan in different locations with his friends.
He looks happy; bright eyed.
Looking at these pictures, seeing the fun and adventure in his face when he didn’t know what was to come, makes my heart hurt for him.
Beneath the map is his desk. There are a few framed photos sitting on top of it.
One is of a dark haired woman, smiling happily into the camera. She must be Jordan’s mom. I pick it up, examining it. She looks quite young in the photo, maybe my age, and she’s really pretty. She has the same eye color as Jordan.
Putting it down, I pick up the next picture. It’s of a young Jordan, maybe four or five, held in the arms of a man whom I’m guessing is his dad as he looks exactly like Jordan does now. Beside his dad, tucked into his side, is a petite blonde haired lady. She’s really beautiful. Oh right, she must be Jordan’s mother. Maybe the other woman is an aunt or something.
I’m just putting the picture down, when Jordan comes in with a tray containing pancakes and two cups of coffee.
Could he be any more perfect? I keep expecting to wake up and find out this is all a dream and I’m still in that motel bed back near Boston.
He puts the tray down on the desk, and his arms come around my waist from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “That’s my mom and dad.” He points to the picture I was just looking at.
“Your mom was beautiful, Jordan.”
“Yeah, she really was. You remind me of her a bit, you know.”
“I do?” I smile.
“Yeah, she always used to speak without thinking like you do.”
“Hey!” I exclaim, giving his side a pinch.
“Hey! Knock it off!” He laughs, wriggling behind me. “I’m really f**kin’ ticklish!”
I tilt my head back, looking up at him. “Hmm … I didn’t know that.”
He stares down at me, narrowing his gaze. “Yeah, and I didn’t tell you for the very reason that’s going through that gorgeous head of yours right now. So don’t go getting any ideas about tickling me again.”
“As if I would.” I smile sweetly.
He shakes his head, giving me a quick kiss on the lips.
I pick up the photo again and examine it. “You look exactly like your dad.”
“Well, yeah, he was a handsome f**ker when he was younger.”
Shaking my head, I laugh as I put the picture down.
“Who’s this?” I point to the picture of the dark haired woman.
Jordan loosens an arm from around me and picks up the frame. “Abbi … she’s my real mom.”
I turn, surprised.
He meets my eyes. “She died giving birth to me. She had an undiagnosed heart condition, and her heart gave out during delivery. She died soon after I was born.”
My eyes fill with tears.
God, he’s known so much loss. He’s lost two mothers.
I reach up and touch his face. “I’m so sorry.”
He puts her picture down. “It’s okay. I never knew her. It makes it hard to hurt over her loss if you know what I mean. But my dad has told me everything about her growing up, and I have photographs.”
“So, the woman you call mom…?”
“Belle. She was my dad’s childhood sweetheart. They broke up when she left to go to college. That was when he met Abbi, and they had me. After Abbi died, dad was raising me alone, with the help of my grandpa as dad was already in the force at this point. Then Belle moved back home when I was about three or four. They ended up getting back together, and she raised me as her own.”
“They never wanted any kids together?” I ask.
A strange look crosses his face, like he’s never considered it before. His lip pushes out. “Nah, I guess not. They already had perfection in me, so what more could they want?”
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Right.”
Chuckling, he moves from behind me and gives my butt a pat. “Come on, let’s eat before my hard work goes cold.”
We sit down at the desk. Jordan gives me the chair and pulls over a stool for him to sit on. I tuck my legs underneath me. It’s a subconscious move on my part. Still covering up my scars, even though he knows they’re there and exactly how I got them.