His eyes narrowed as he watched me, then his thumb brushed across my cheek as if to verify what he was seeing. “Are you crying?”
I gave a sniff and jerked my head away. “No. Go away now.”
He ignored me, of course. “What’s going on, Weiss? Did that bartender say something to you? I’ll go fuck him up.”
“No. I’m fine. He was nice. Nicer than any other guy I’ve talked to in months.”
He didn’t say anything in reply, just scowled. If possible, he looked even hotter when he scowled—it was an intense sort of look, with his eyes narrowing like darts that could punch a hole right through me. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. He pulled a bar napkin from his back pocket and handed it to me.
I took it without a word, blotted tears from my cheeks and blew my nose. “How much have you had to drink?” he asked quietly.
“No alcohol. I do stupid shit when I drink.”
He frowned. “So what’s with the crying then?”
I shrugged. “You’re my boss, not my psychotherapist.”
“Are you going home with that bartender?”
“Is that any of your business?”
He moved in close, standing right in front of me, bracing a hand on the wall above my head. My heart hammered in my chest. He ran a finger along the line of my jaw, giving me that intense look again. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he visibly swallowed.
“I’m making it my business.” Then his finger slipped down the column of my throat, over my collarbone and right to the deep cleavage of my neckline. Where his finger traced my skin, his touch burned. I felt it clear down to my bones. My chest squeezed tight. I couldn’t breathe. He pissed me off and turned me on like no other man could. I froze as his head dipped so that his lips were mere millimeters from mine. I could feel his breath on my face. And I didn’t smell alcohol like I’d expected to.
“You’re a good girl, April Weiss. And those are the worst kind.”
I frowned, completely confused. And then his hand was on my thigh, sliding slowly up my skirt. His eyes shot a challenge into mine. He seemed to be daring me to stop him. I didn’t. Instead, I reached out and brushed my hand against his crotch, rubbing him through his jeans. He sucked in his breath and hardened immediately under my touch.
“Tell me to stop, April,” he whispered.
I wouldn’t. I continued to rub him until his erection was straining against his fly. His hand was now on my panties, lightly stroking me through the silky material. I let out a little whimper and the world spun around me. His fingers pushed aside my panties and then he was rubbing me along the seam of my sex.
When I gasped, it was into his mouth because it had sealed over mine, muting me. As his tongue thrust into my mouth, I pressed my chest into his. His entire body was hard—almost as hard as the wall behind me. I felt enclosed, hemmed in, disoriented. I was completely absorbed, as if he were weaving a spell around me with his hands and his tongue.
“Did he tell you that you were beautiful?” he whispered, his mouth kissing its way to my temple now. My eyes fluttered closed. Transfixed, I could only focus on what his hands were doing. One was now relentlessly rubbing against my clit, the other winding through my hair at the nape of my neck. I had one hand still groping him through his jeans while the other untucked his shirt and skimmed across his flat abs. He felt amazing. He smelled even better.
“Did he?”
“Yes,” I moaned.
“Did he tell you how much he wanted to taste you?”
I didn’t answer. I was being drawn under by his spell. That gnawing, deep want cutting deep to my core. My body was awakening under the touch of those magical hands.
“He wants to taste you. He wants his mouth all over your pretty tits.”
His touch against my clit intensified, and I began to feel that familiar climb to climax. He was going to make me come right here in this back alley in no time. And I didn’t care. I wanted him to.
Jordan’s hand released my hair and skimmed along the neckline of my dress, tucking a finger underneath and hooking into my bra. With a light tug, my breast was free and feeling the cool night air for mere milliseconds before his mouth was on me, as he’d said. He sucked my nipple into his mouth as if he were starving, feasting on me. He let loose a growl at the back of his throat and bolts of searing lightning streaked right through me. I arched my back, pushing into him, and he pressed me down—hard—against the wall, knocking my breath from me. He sucked harder, and the impossible pleasure of his hand moving at my center began to spread over my legs and stomach, gorgeous heat washing over me. With a shout that echoed across the alleyway, I came in sharp, breath-stealing spasms of pure ecstasy.