Brandon watched Jordan as she admired the double-sided fireplace in the wall separating the bedroom and bath. Two sinks were mounted in the quartz countertop to the right, and a large, glass-enclosed shower stood in the back. The cream floor tiles had splashes of light brown that coordinated with his bedroom’s décor. And the accent chair next to the oversized bath served exclusively as a place for sitting and watching girls get themselves off, especially when he was lucky enough to have two for the night.
But that scene didn’t do anything for him compared to the new fantasies popping up since he’d started this tour with Jordan. He’d been keeping a mental checklist of all the places he wanted to fuck her, including right where she stood by the sink.
“It’s beautiful and enormous,” she said, turning to face him. He dragged his eyes up to her face, away from the nice curve of her ass in the white dress hugging her hips.
“Yep, that’s definitely what she said.”
Jordan hurried out of the bathroom. “You’re such an idiot.”
“That was funny. Come on!”
“Whatever. And really, the neatness of everything would be impressive for a guy, but there’s no doubt you have a housekeeper.”
“True. But in my defense, she only comes once a week.” Which was yesterday, but Jordan didn’t need to know that. “Do you want to go see what the guys are up to, or do you want to know where all the magic happens? And I mean all the magic.”
“I’m scared to say yes, but now I’m curious.”
“Guestroom.” He grinned.
“In your guestroom? Seriously? Now I know where never to sleep if I sleep over.” She crinkled her nose. “You’re disgusting.”
“I know, but on a good note, you’re still planning to sleep over.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes.
“Well, this is basically the house,” he said as they returned to the living room. “The pool and Jacuzzi are in the backyard. Make yourself comfortable.”
“How was the tour, Jordan?” Andrew asked.
“Good. It’s beautiful here,” she answered, taking a seat on the sofa sectional.
He smiled as he thought about the reclining chair stunt he’d pulled earlier. Jordan would probably never sit in that chair again, unless . . . checklisted. The twentieth place he wanted to fuck her.
“Hey, did you guys ever hear Damian talk about a girl he’d met recently?” Brandon asked after he grabbed a beer and plopped down next to Jordan.
“You know Damian always went into the dirty details before anything else. So you’ll have to be more specific,” Andrew said.
“Jordan’s friend Adrianna had been seeing him for the past few weeks,” he specified.
“That dirty dog! God, I miss him and his filthy mouth.” James smiled. “Let’s see, excuse my language, but is she tanned, petite, perfect ass, long black hair, and dragon tattoo on her back?”
The dimples deepened in Jordan’s cheeks as her eyes widened. “Yes, that’s quite the description.”
“Now that I think about it. I’ve heard him mention her,” Andrew added. “Yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about her. Said she rocked his world.”
“It’s funny you say that, because that night when I picked him up, he said he’d never been happier staying inside. He laughed about how he was losing his game and getting too old for this shit. I thought he was joking, you know. But now . . .” James half smiled and shook his head.
Silence settled over them as they absorbed reality. “For all the times I told him to shut up, now I wish I had listened to everything he had to say, even the descriptive details about his love life,” Brandon said. “He was especially excited about those, but that was our Damian.”
“He sounds like the male version of Adrianna. No wonder she took a liking to him so fast. I’m honestly in awe she just told me about him. He sounds cool. I wish I’d gotten to know him,” Jordan said, drinking the rest of the wine in her glass.
Brandon’s eyes settled on Jordan as Damian’s last messages came together before his eyes. “Be with her. She’s good for you . . . We may be heading down the same path.” He’d been talking about Jordan’s friend. Brandon lowered his head. Looks like they’d both destroyed their paths.
“We do have some crazy videos with him on YouTube,” Andrew said. “Where’s the remote?”
Andrew pulled up a video of them jumping off a cliff, screaming in midair before slamming into the water. Another one showed them goofing off at a wedding reception. These videos left no doubt that not having Damian around would be difficult to get used to. But he didn’t want to come to terms with that tonight, or anytime soon—ever, if possible.
Brandon glanced over at Jordan with her phone out and wondered whom she was texting. Because while she’d been cozying up to whoever was on the other end of her phone, he’d been wincing at the growing ache in his groin, heavy enough to snap the waistband of his shorts. And even though she was free to date or talk to whomever she pleased, it didn’t mean he was okay with it. If only he hadn’t fucked up, he could take her to his room and lay claim deep inside of her. He shook his head free of the thought of having Jordan in his actual bed, but crazy enough, that was exactly where he wanted her.
“You should come to the funeral,” he found himself saying. Shit. Why did he ask her that? It made no sense. She barely knew Damian. She looked puzzled. Palms sweaty and throat dry, he continued, “I mean, Adrianna might need that closure.”
He’d been doing a good job of hiding his grief—even from himself—but now reality was starting to slap him in the face. One of his best friends was gone. Taking off his dark sunglasses, Brandon walked to the casket propped on a stand in the front of the church. Before he could gather his thoughts, Damian’s two teenage sisters, Rue and Sandra, came out of nowhere and hugged him, both sobbing with bloodshot eyes.
What could he offer them as solace, today of all days? He rubbed their backs, wishing he could take their pain.
“How’s your mom?” he asked when they loosened their hold on him.
“Holding up about as well as . . .”
Spotting Jordan and Adrianna as they entered the church, he signaled them over, bringing the sisters up to speed. “The girl with the black hair had been dating your brother for a few weeks.”
“We know. He called and told us about her,” Sandra, the older sister, said. “Swore he’d finally met his match and was going to invite her to Thanksgiving this year. We thought it was just one of his ploys, only this means it’s true if she’s here.”
“Adrianna,” Rue said, hugging her as soon as she could get her hands on her. “This must be so hard for you. Damian told us so much about you. I know you hadn’t known each other long, but we were already looking forward to meeting you at Thanksgiving.”
“He was going to invite me to Thanksgiving? Oh . . .”
After the girls did their introductions, Rue, Sandra, and Adrianna started to sob in unison. Brandon invited Jordan to sit with him by Andrew and Sarah. Jordan’s face seemed devoid of emotion. It was like she wasn’t even here.
“You’re the only one holding it together right now. I need you right next to me at all times today,” he whispered, trying to bring her back from wherever she was.
“The ceremony will be starting in five minutes,” a masculine voice announced through the microphone.
Sarah smiled, her blue eyes dull in comparison to her long, purple-ombré hair. She waved at Brandon as he sat down on the church pew next to Andrew.
“Who’s your friend?” Sarah winked, her nose rings sparkling, one a hoop and the other a stud.
Was there such a thing as a hippy, punk rock girl? If so, that was Sarah. But she was also one of the good ones, or so he’d gathered over the years he’d known her.
She extended her hand to Jordan. “Hi, I’m Sarah, Andrew’s girlfriend.”
Jordan shook Sarah’s hand. “I’m Jordan. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh! Jordan. Very nice to finally meet you.” Sarah smiled.
What was happening? The way Sarah was grinning, Andrew must have said something. Which was strange, because he hadn’t told Andrew anything. Though the bastard hadn’t stopped teasing him about Jordan since she’d hung with them at his house.
“Asshole,” Brandon said through his teeth to Andrew.
“Watch your mouth . . . We are in the Lord’s house,” Andrew said.
Brandon made a sign of the cross over his chest and asked forgiveness.
The rest of the ceremony was pure agony.
Damian’s mom wailed, and Jordan’s arm squeezed Adrianna’s shaking shoulders. When Jordan’s head rested against his chest, he stretched an arm around both her and Adrianna. The weird thing was that Jordan remained calm, at least that’s what he thought until he looked down and saw silent tears spilling down her cheeks. He pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket; he handed it to her, and she handed it to Adrianna.
He brought his free hand up to wipe her wet cheeks, and warm tears moistened his fingers. He moved his hand away, realizing it was trembling. He needed to get her back. Jordan Artesian needed to be his.
Brandon spent the next week completely miserable, while also trying his best to catch up on school work, something he always seemed to be behind on. The empty feeling in his house and heart pushed him to the gym. Working out was the only thing able to reduce his pent-up emotions over losing his friend. For days he secluded himself from everyone, except the one or two times he showed up to work.
The next week, after four consecutive days of seclusion, he asked Jordan to lunch. Not having used a razor in days, he looked like hell, but he didn’t give a shit. He wanted to see if she could distract him from thinking about Damian. And whether she could or couldn’t, he still needed to ask her for another chance.
But right now, there was a small issue threatening their exchange: he was high, and Jordan was a goody two-shoes. He didn’t smoke often, but marijuana was a recreational habit he and his friends would partake in once or twice a year. However, at desperate times like these, quantities had to be modified.
At the sight of him, Jordan’s mouth dropped. The woman was anything but subtle. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. At least he was clothed . . . His shirt and pants could use an iron, but regardless, he was dressed. He held his arms out for a hug, keeping his bloodshot eyes behind some old aviator Ray-Bans he’d found in his garage.
Squeezing her body into his, he groaned. “God, you smell good. Oh, can you drive? I took an Uber here because I’m kinda, sorta high.”
She laughed. “Wow, I didn’t expect that, but I can’t say I’m surprised. You look high.”
“What, you don’t like the beard?”
As she turned in to the Santa Monica Pier parking lot, he pulled a small joint from his pocket and played with it. “I can’t believe you’re okay with me being high.”
“I see you still think I have a stick up my ass.”
Moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, he looked at her, all pristine and beautiful in her skirt suit. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you? So how about this—have you ever gotten high?”
Looking at the joint in his hand, she said, “Yeah, about six years ago.”
Wow. Maybe she wasn’t completely a goody two-shoes. “Do you want to again, with me?”
Jordan parked the car in a secluded area and unbuckled her seatbelt. And like she’d been waiting to say it since he’d gotten in the car with her, she announced, “I’m dating someone.”
He nodded as the last of anything that mattered slipped through his fingers. “That didn’t take long.” He lit the joint and took a long draw.
“And it won’t take you long either. Are you trying to tell me you haven’t gotten into some girl’s pants already?”
He shrugged, and Jordan snatched the joint from his hand. “Jerk! Yet you’re trying to make me feel like shit. Unbelievable!” Putting it between her lips, she inhaled, and it sent her into a coughing frenzy.
He rubbed her back. “Slow down. Don’t hit it so hard.” She recoiled from his touch, and he frowned. “So I can’t touch you now?”
She cleared her throat. “It’s not that. You’re very . . . you have a way with women, and I don’t want to be dragged into your charms again. We can’t be the way we used to be.”
“Are you saying you’re scared of being seduced by me?” He took the joint and reclined his seat into a comfortable position.
“No. I mean, you can’t flirt with me.” She twisted in her seat. “Ugh! Why can’t I recline my seat too?”
“Here, let me.” He leaned over her lap to pull the knob.
She sucked in a breath. “Okay, there’s maybe a one-percent chance of you seducing me. You could have told me so I could do it myself. I mean, it’s my car. Am I already high or something?”
“I could have told you, but I wanted to get close to you. And you shouldn’t have told me about that one-percent chance. It’s usually all I need.” He flashed her a grin. “And no, you’re not high yet, just tense. Thanks to me, right?”
Her eyes held his. “Why thanks to you?”
“I didn’t fuck you when I had the chance.”
She inhaled and shuffled in her seat. “Brandon, don’t do that. If we’re going to be friends, we have to respect each other’s relationships. Otherwise this friendship won’t work. I don’t want to have to . . .” Her gaze settled on the smoke drifting from the joint in her hand, and she relaxed into her seat. “Holy crap. This is really strong. Wow,” she sighed.
Brandon laughed. “And now she’s high. Look at that, you don’t even remember what you were fussing about.”
She giggled. “I don’t.”
A few moments later, Jordan drew in smoke and said, “I want to learn how to make those smoke rings. You know, when they puff out the circles, like . . .” She tried but failed.
He bit his lower lip. Jordan was sexy as fuck, and every second he spent with her had him recognizing how in sync they were, and how perfect they could have been together. Good thing he was high, because otherwise he would be kicking something for losing her.
“Like this.” He drew in enough smoke and puffed out three rings.
“Yes! That’s so cool!”
“What you have to do is fold your lips over your teeth. Bring your tongue to the back of your mouth and then to the front like this,” he explained, showing her first without, then with smoke. “Here, try it.”
Succeeding after the fifth try, she celebrated. “Yes! Finally.”
He laughed. “Again, I’m thinking I’m a bad influence on you.”
“You are a bad influence on me. But it’s okay. I need it. I’ve been too careful for too long.” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m so high.”
He snorted and dropped the roach outside the car. “What do you want for lunch?”
“I’m craving donuts, but I don’t know.” Turning her head to him, she asked, “What do you want?”
“There are some coffee shops on the strip. I’m sure we both can find something there.”
A little while later, as Brandon chewed on a bite from his sandwich at a bistro table outside a café, he shifted his gaze from the passersby at the sound of a moan. He focused on Jordan’s mouth just in time to see her tongue slide across her lips to lick at a crumb, and his vision blurred. The last time he got an instant boner was . . . her.
“Jordan?”
He pulled his lip between his teeth at the sound of another moan, watching as she sucked the glaze from the tip of her thumb.
Inhaling, he cleared his throat. “Jordan.”
She spared him a glance. “What?”
Licking his lips, he shook his head and lowered his voice. “Do you always moan like that when you eat donuts? Honestly, I’m a little jealous of whatever it’s doing to you.”
Her cheeks colored. “No, it’s just so good. But thanks to you, now I can’t finish it.” She placed the remains on her napkin.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I actually can’t wait for you to finish it.” He leaned back in his chair, laughing when she covered her face. “Congratulations, by the way, you’ve reduced me to being turned on by a fucking donut. I wonder if I have some weird food fetish I don’t know about?”
Her face resembled the red basket centered on the table.
“I’m taking it you won’t ever eat a donut around me again.”
She shook her head. “Never.”