“Fletcher,” she moaned.
“God,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You feel fucking amazing.”
“Ditto. More,” she coaxed.
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
She opened her eyes—she hadn’t even realized they’d slid shut—and met his stormy gaze. “Not possible.”
“Jordan,” he groaned. But he pulled back and thrust again, deeper.
Her toes literally curled. “Yes. More.”
“I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m trying not to go too fast.”
Hearing how much he wanted her, in his words but also his tone, made her inner muscles tighten and he gave a reactive groan.
“Please, Fletcher, more.” The need and heat were swirling in her lower belly and pussy, coiling tighter and she needed release. She put her hand between them, circling her clit.
His eyes dropped to watch for a few seconds, his breathing ragged. Then he let out a long, low, “Fuuuuck.”
He gripped her more tightly and thrust deep. Then again. And again. Hard and fast, stroking her deep, making her body tingle from where they were joined to her nipples to the top of her head. She felt her whole body tightening and straining toward an orgasm.
Her finger moved faster, pressing and circling. She was well acquainted with how to give herself pleasure but it was so much more with Fletcher buried deep inside her.
“Yes, yes, Fletcher.”
“God, Jordan.”
His hips drove into her and she felt her climax building. She circled faster, lifting her other hand to her breast, and squeezing her nipple. Fletcher’s fingers gripped her ass. His breath was hot and fast against her cheek.
She felt it coming and she tightened around him. Her heels dug into his ass, her pussy clenched around his cock, holding on as she cried out his name, her orgasm rolling through her hot and fast.
“Yes!” Fletcher thrust deep, then came, his body tightening as the swells of pleasure were still coursing through her.
Jordan clamped her thighs around his hips, loving the feel of him letting go like that.
He leaned into her, pinning her even more securely, as he rested his forehead on the wall over her shoulder and sucked in long, full breaths.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight.
A couple of minutes passed before he finally lifted his head and looked at her.
She smiled up at him.
He blew out a breath. Then shook his head. “That was not how I planned for this morning to go.”
Then he shifted back and let her slide down the wall. Once she was on her feet, he stepped into the bathroom, she assumed to deal with the condom. She heard the water run and she looked around. But there wasn’t anything for her to do. Getting dressed didn’t make sense since she really was getting in the shower soon.
He came back out, zipped and buttoned up again. He bent to grab his shirt and shrugged into it. His gaze tracked over her still naked body once before coming back to her face as he fastened the buttons.
“That was…”
She lifted a brow. “If that sentence ends in anything other than ‘even better than all the times I’ve imagined fucking you against the wall’, just keep it to yourself.”
He looked surprised, then turned on, then like he was fighting being turned on. He nodded. “It was definitely that.”
“Good answer.” She gave him a smile. “Now have a nice day, Mr. Landry. And be sure to stay away from the south side of the football field. Or at least keep your pants on this time if you do go over there.”
Yeah, she might’ve accidentally peed on her shoe at that bonfire party, but she had not gotten poison oak on her ass. Unlike Fletcher, who had taken a blanket and a sophomore girl named Ashley to that field one Saturday night.
He hadn’t been able to sit down comfortably for three days. He hadn’t told anyone, except Jordan, about the poison oak and where he had the rash.
Of course, she’d gotten him a bottle of calamine lotion and a pair of boxers that said Burnin’ Love across the butt, but she’d otherwise kept his secret.
He wasn’t the only one who knew embarrassing things.
But they wanted each other anyway. He’d better remember that.
She blew him a kiss, then stepped into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her.
11
By the time she was showered, dried, dressed, and downstairs, Fletcher was gone.
Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and, well, working it seemed. She had her electronic tablet open along with two folders spread out in front of her and a pen in hand. Charlie was a go-getter and Jordan doubted she ever really had downtime. From what Charlie had shared with her on the phone and via email over the past few months, she was growing Boys of the Bayou Gone Wild by leaps and bounds. Which was a funny, yet appropriate phrase to use in reference to a petting zoo, Jordan supposed.
“I need to go to Ellie’s,” Jordan told her without preamble. “I need some grits and strong coffee right now.”
Charlie lifted a brow. “Your new husband made you coffee and breakfast.”
In spite of the way her stomach flipped every time she heard or thought the word husband, Jordan shook her head. “I had some of his coffee upstairs. It’s too weak for this. Plus, there’s no way he made grits.”
For the same reason that no one in the Landry family ever made gumbo or jambalaya or bread pudding—it simply would never measure up to what they could get at Ellie’s.
“No, I think he made you bacon and French toast.”
Oh my God. Jordan suddenly felt a little choked up. He had made her French toast.
Sex and French toast and bacon. She was loving married life.
Jordan moaned. “Okay, I’m taking the bacon and French toast to go. But I need stronger coffee. And… grits too. I worked up an appetite.” She gave Charlie a grin.
Her friend shook her head. “I know. I was really regretting taking my earbuds out of my purse.”
“Sorry.” Jordan wasn’t sorry. Though she was still a little confused by Fletcher’s attempt to refrain from their morning fun.
“I just went on a little walk,” Charlie said. “Hey, that dress looks great on you.”
Jordan looked down at the red sundress. “Oh thanks. I appreciate this. And the underwear.”
“There are more of both in the bag over there.” Charlie gestured toward the purple roller bag that was sitting next to the kitchen’s center island.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Jordan told her sincerely. “I’ll email Jason’s assistant today, but it will be a couple of days before my stuff gets here.”
“You’re welcome to anything in my closet or my bathroom,” Charlie promised.
Jordan grabbed her purse off of the back of the chair where Fletcher must’ve hung it last night, put three pieces of bacon between two pieces of French toast like a sandwich and wrapped the whole thing in a paper towel. Then they headed out to Charlie’s car. Jordan could already taste the grits and couldn’t wait to have a cup of strong chicory coffee in hand.
Ellie greeted them with smiles and hugs and they had coffee and beignets to get them started within minutes of taking seats at the big back table where the Landry family usually gathered. At this time of day, they were all out working, but around lunchtime there would be a handful and at dinnertime even more.