“Never. I just.” He hesitates, his gaze locking on mine. “I just wanted to see you.”
Now it’s my turn to remain quiet. He’s stunned me silent. He has this way of making me feel special with just a look, a few choice words. And we’re having this crazy conversation-slash-argument in his giant closet, with me still wearing only his jersey and my dress clutched in my hand. I just need to get dressed and get out of here.
But where would I go? Who would drive me? I guess Jordan could take me home, but then I’d have to explain why I wasn’t spending the night at Liv’s. I could go back to Liv’s house, but I don’t think she’s home. She’s still with Ryan most likely. And no way am I going to Ryan’s house. They’re probably banging at this very moment.
The pang of envy deep inside me doesn’t go unnoticed.
“So Amanda.” Jordan’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I meet his gaze once more.
“Yeah?”
“Got anything else on under my jersey?” he asks.
Oh. I lift my chin, hoping for confident. Probably failing miserably. What’s the point of arguing when we’re just going to end up tangled together anyway? That’s what I want. I think he wants it too.
“Maybe you should do a little exploring and find out for yourself.”
His expression turns thunderous and he grabs hold of my waist just as I try to get away from him. He pulls me in, his hands immediately diving beneath the hem of his jersey and grabbing hold of my butt.
“Still got your panties on,” he murmurs as those big hands grab hold of both cheeks and gives them a squeeze. A shuddery sigh escapes me, and when he slips his hands underneath my panties and touches bare skin, I close my eyes. Press my lips together to contain the moan that wants to spill out.
“Jordan,” I whisper, but he kisses me silent. It’s an aggressive kiss, full of tongue and heat and we’re only a few seconds in before he breaks away from my eager lips and hauls me over his shoulder, carrying me caveman-style out of his closet and straight for his bed.
Now I’m yelling his name in protest. Pounding on his back with my fists. He ignores me, his hand coming up to smack me lightly on the butt, and I hiss out a breath, nearly fainting at the way he gently caresses my backside right after he slapped it.
This is getting weird.
He tosses me on the bed and follows me down, so he’s hovering above me, his face in mine, my back flat on the mattress. “You’re loud,” he tells me. “My mom might hear you.”
My eyes go wide. I would die if she barged in here to see what was going on. Just…die. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Gonna have keep your mouth covered if you can’t keep quiet,” he says with a smirk, those expert hands of his tunneling up the inside of the jersey, touching me in all the right places.
I close my eyes, a little moan escaping me when he traces my lacy bra, and he lightly clamps his hand across my mouth, silencing me. My eyes flash open to find him watching me carefully.
“Shhh,” he whispers, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. “Quiet, baby.”
I melt at him calling me baby. This entire situation is weird yet hot. He’s using a little force on me—just enough to scare me, but not enough to make me run screaming from his room. I try my best to calm my breathing, my racing heart, our gazes never straying from each other’s. When he slowly lifts his hand away from my face, he leans in and kisses me. Surprisingly, it’s gentle. A mere brushing of lips on lips, and I feel that simple kiss all the way to my curled toes.
He keeps kissing me, and it’s nice, more than nice. But I want more. I become restless. I lift my hips against his knee and he shifts away, breaking the kiss to slowly shake his head. “No grinding on my knee tonight. I want to touch you.”
My insides tremble. I want him to touch me too. Jordan shifts away from me and takes off the jersey I’m wearing, his fingers sliding over my stomach, between my breasts, along my collarbone. When he undoes the front clasp of my bra, he takes it off, sliding the scrap of lace down my arms and tossing it on the floor. And then he’s kissing my chest, cupping my breasts, stroking and sucking and doing all sorts of wondrous things that make me want to scream.
I must get close to screaming because his hand is back on my mouth, keeping me mute. I let him keep it there, closing my eyes when his other hand drifts down, caressing my stomach, smoothing over one hipbone, then the other, just before he dives his fingers down the front of my panties.