I kiss her nose. “Fuck, yeah, it was amazing. Gold medal.”
She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I did a lot of research.”
“You did…” I break off, huffing out a laugh and kissing her breathless because everything about her is perfect.
When we break apart, I glide my thumb over her bottom lip, taking her in. The glow of the dim streetlamp from the top of the stairs splashes across her features, making her green eyes sparkle and the freckles across her nose stand out. A smile plays across her face, her hair is messy from my hands, and she is so beautiful my heart speeds up, even as my body recovers. Standing here in this dark corner of New York, I know without a doubt that I will remember this moment for the rest of my life, and all I want to do is stay with her, to be where she is, and I hope she wants to stay with me too.
I kiss her one more time before wrapping an arm around her shoulder, tugging her close to me as I reach down, pull up my shorts, and then guide her towards the stairs.
“Come on, Hurricane. Let’s go home.”
* * *
When we get to her apartment, I return the favor, pinning Jo against the counter and dropping to my knees on the kitchen floor, slinging her leg over my shoulder and sealing my mouth over her clit until she comes on a scream. Then she climbs on top of me on the couch and rides me until I forget my own name, and then I fuck her again against the shower wall.
A couple hours later, we tumble into her bed, naked and exhausted, bodies still damp from the shower. I tug Jo to me until her back is against my chest and my arms are wrapped around her. I bury my face in her hair and breathe her in, everything inside of me settled at the feel of her next to me, our hearts beating in sync.
“I like having you here,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “I sleep better with you next to me.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her shoulder. “Me too, Jo Jo.”
She snuggles deeper into me, and in seconds, she’s fast asleep, her body relaxing, her breathing turning slow and deep. I kiss her again, tightening my arms around her, and I follow her straight into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
JO
August
“Fuck it all to hell,” I mutter, grabbing the dresses out of my suitcase and throwing them on the floor, yanking four new ones off their hangers. As I toss them into my suitcase, my eye catches on the sandals already in there, and I realize they won’t match. I take those out, tossing them into the corner where they land with a thud, and dive into my closet on my knees, searching for my other pair. When I’m in the closet, I realize the bag I usually carry doesn’t match the shoes, but if I take the bag that matches the shoes, I’ll need to switch wallets because my regular wallet is too big for that bag. And if I switch wallets, I’ll definitely lose a credit card or something because switching wallets is a massive pain in the ass. Everyone knows that.
I rock back on my heels, blowing my hair out of my face and staring at the mess on the floor and the suitcase filled with clothes I suddenly hate. And when I realize I packed three sweaters even though it’s the middle of the summer but forgot to pack underwear, I let out a loud groan, collapsing backwards and starfishing on the floor.
“You okay, Hurricane?” Jordan’s voice filters into my bedroom seconds before he steps inside, looking like a freaking snack in low slung pajama pants and no shirt, a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a spatula in his hand.
“It’s so unfair,” I mutter as he stands over me, grinning.
“Whatcha doing down there, Jo Jo?”
“Nothing, just contemplating all my life choices that led me to this moment.”
He grins wider. I would take a minute to appreciate the fact that he’s giving me one of his rare sunshine smiles, but I’m too irritated about all the things. “And what life choices did you make that led to you laying on the floor on a pile of clothes?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll tell you what life choices led me here. The ones where I decided it was a good idea to get myself a boyfriend who does things like ask me to go with him to visit his family for the weekend, which means I have to pack. But I suck at packing because I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns, so I procrastinated with all the hot sex last night and woke up extra early to get it done before work, but I forgot that my brain doesn’t function in the morning. So now I’m basicallyIf You Give a Mouse a Cookie: Packing Meltdown Editionwhile you stand there looking like a fucking magazine spread for hot men who make breakfast.”
Jordan’s lips twitch, and he’s trying so hard not to laugh that his face is practically turning purple.
I groan again and cover my face with my hands. “Ugh, just laugh already. You know you want to.”
Jordan drops to the floor and covers my body with his. I feel every inch of his warm skin through my thin cotton sleep tank. Jordan gently pries my hands away from my face and links my fingers with his as he supports his weight on his elbows. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Talk to me, Jo Jo. What’s going on here?”
I huff out a breath, Jordan’s comforting presence above me like a weighted blanket, ratcheting down my anxiety level. “They might hate me.”
“Who might hate you?”
“Your family. I’m impulsive and a little chaotic. I live in pink sneakers, and I’m terrible at making decisions. I stay up way too late and am never at my best until at least ten a.m. I eat Fireballs like they’re going out of style, and I can’t even pack a suitcase to go away for the weekend without having an existential crisis.”
