we all die.”
Her voice cracked. Then she looked at me.
She turned her arm over, revealing the inside of her forearm. A small music note inked in simple black.
“My first one,” she said. “Got it the day I sold my first song. A reminder of where it all started.”
Then her hand drifted to her ribs. “Still I rise,” she whispered, tracing the words. “For my mother. For every woman who ever had to.”
When I still didn’t say anything, she turned again, and I saw it—
imperfectly beautiful, inked just under the crease of her ass.
My fingers twitched.
This moment felt like a sin and a sacrament—holy in the way it quieted something in me, dangerous in the way it stirred everything else. I wanted to touch her anyway.
I sighed.
Too bad this moment wasn’t real. She was taking her anger out on me, showing me everything I couldn’t have. This was her lashing out at her ex. Teasing me because it made her feel in control.
Under different circumstances, I’d hand her that control—gladly. Just to see what she’d do with it.
But not like this.
A laugh slipped from me—low, dark. I leaned back, tilting my head as I watched her.
“You playing with me,” I said. “Trying to seduce me and don’t even mean it.”
My gaze dragged over her slowly, taking in every curve, every deliberate inch of skin. Searing it all into memory like a photograph.
“But I’m not falling for the bait. You’re angry. And you’re trying to use me to burn it off.”
Her eyes flared. Her fists balled at her sides.
I wasn’t going to let her turn this into something dirty. Not when the feelings I had for her were anything but.
I stood, took three long strides into her space. Close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off me. My hand lifted like I might touch her—but stopped just shy of it.
“I want you, Jordin. I’d give everything just to have you.” My voice softened. “But not like this. You’re not about to use me to patch up a hole he made.”
Her chest rose and fell a little quicker. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.
I let my hand drop, stepped back, even though it gutted me to do it.
“This happens when you’re ready for me,” I said. “Not when you’re mad at him.”
Her jaw tightened. But she didn’t argue. Didn’t push.
Just stared at me, like I’d done something she didn’t expect.
I leaned in, brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Goodnight, J. Sleep in the guest room.”
Then I turned and walked away.
eighteen-Jordin
