I left the room, then said my goodbyes to Jordan’s other family members. The Reverend walked me to the door and I promptly fled to the safety of Jordan’s shiny new SUV, not giving a shit about the fact that it guzzled gas and caused global warming.
Chapter 14
Jordan
We were back on the road in time for rush-hour traffic. We hit it through Santa Barbara, then again in Ventura, until finally running into the giant parking lot that was the San Fernando Valley. I made sure to play music the whole way. I was not in the mood to talk about that hot mess of a family reunion that only lacked my brother, Seth, to make it complete. Since he was in college three states away, I guess that wasn’t convenient. But apparently, embarrassing the hell out of me in front of my assistant was convenient.
April spent much of the time on her phone, reading a book, presumably. But at one point, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The sunlight was starting to disappear and the traffic was slow going. I stole glimpses of her in between brooding and feeling sorry for myself. And embarrassment. There was that too.
Soon, she’d gravitated to my shoulder to rest her head as she continued to doze. At first, I was tempted to push her away, but her smell—that intoxicating honey scent that did weird things to my self-control—had me taking a nice long whiff every so often. Each time was like getting a head rush.
The combination of her smell and those cute little noises she made while sleeping was making it hard to concentrate on the road—or on anything else but her. It reminded me of the sounds she made when she climaxed, and that thought brought a rush of heat in all the right places. It was all too tempting to drive her home to my place and take her to bed.
I blinked at that thought, sobering. I really wanted to take her to bed. And it wasn’t because I felt deprived from my self-inflicted period of celibacy, either. I was horny enough these days that I’d probably screw just about anyone. Okay, not anyone. But with this particular young lady, I had to fight with myself hourly to keep my hands off of her.
No, the less contact between us, the better. She had a little over a month to go until her internship was done. Just a little more than a month of purgatory, and then…then…
I sometimes thought about what would happen if I told her I was Falco from Comic-Con. How would she react? Would she be surprised, angry, turned on? Would it change how things were between us? Did she have good memories of that encounter now that it had been sullied by the viral video? She had admitted under nervous duress that it was the best sex of her life. I’d mentally high-fived myself when she’d let that one slip. Jordan Fawkes never, ever turned down an opportunity to massage his own ego.
I concluded that it was a good thing she didn’t know it was me—that she should never find out that it was me. And I couldn’t take her to bed under these circumstances. So the sheer fact of her not knowing protected her—and me—from doing something that we would probably end up regretting. I shouldn’t even have been considering taking her to bed. Those very thoughts should not have been rolling through my mind—but a man had his limits. As long as they only remained thoughts and desires, I was good. She was safe.
Although it would help if she didn’t currently have her head on my shoulder, her long-lashed eyes closed, her fragrant hair draped over my arm. I turned to sniff it again and stopped when my gaze met her open eyes.
She frowned, and I returned my eyes quickly to the road. I felt the weight of her head slip from my shoulder, accompanied by a slight pang of loss. I wouldn’t have minded if she’d slept there for another hour.
She stretched beside me, arching her back, pushing those lovely breasts against her silk blouse. I looked—for longer than I should have, dammit. Friar Jordan, the would-be monk, was not doing very well with his new vow of celibacy.
“Did I fall asleep on you? I’m sorry.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I hope I didn’t drool.”
“Nope, no drool.” Just that amazing smell…
She craned her neck as if to figure out where we were—almost through LA and less than an hour home on the Santa Ana Freeway. The brightly lit Citadel outlets loomed on our left, just outside of the City of Commerce.
“I should be the one apologizing to you,” I said, knowing it needed to be said. No time like the present, I supposed.
She turned to me with a frown. “For what?”
“For my fucked-up family. I guess my mom and grandpa were in cahoots on that little ambush.”
“At least your mom cares. Be grateful for that.”
“Hard to be grateful when all I can feel right now is embarrassment.”