My cheeks flushed at the intimate mention. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was trapped in a bathroom with him, peeing. This could only be intimate.
I stood, rearranged my dress, and stepped to the sink, careful to avoid his eyes. As I washed my hands, his gaze burned through me. I saw his approach in the mirror.
“Don’t worry, I know proper handwashing procedure,” I muttered as he filled the space at my side. I dried my hands on one of the disposable hand towels set out, tossing it in the trash can. When I turned, I found the brick wall of his chest.
“Please, Jordan. Let’s talk.”
In one swift movement he had me backed up against the edge of the countertop. I tipped my head to look at him, both eager to deny him whatever he wanted, and desperate to fall headfirst into him. This close, it was hard not to touch him. To seek a kiss. To remember all the reasons I’d fallen so hard for him in the first place.
“About what?”
He rested his palms on the countertop on either side of me, angling himself slightly so we were more eye level. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Then he did it again. He was struggling to speak. He was nervous. I’d never seen him like this before.
“I’m sorry,” he finally blurted.
“Oh, God, are you about to give me more bad news?” He watched me heavily, something foreboding in his gaze. “Don’t tell me. Trojan is leaving me too, now. Or maybe Chico quit?”
He shook his head, searching my face. “No. It’s not that. I’m sorry for how I treated you. For acting like a total jerk.”
I blinked hard, almost unable to process his words. “What?”
“I’m sorry that I rejected what was growing between us.” He drew a shaky breath. His nervousness was so endearing I wanted to take a bite of him. “I didn’t do it because I didn’t want you. I promise. I…have never wanted anyone more than I want you, Jordan.”
Want. Present tense. He still felt the same way. I sat, stunned, as he went on.
“I rejected the idea of us because I…I was terrified of where it would lead. Because I knew it would…could…lead to something…huge.”
My fingers curled under the ledge of the countertop in an effort to stop them from curling into the front of his shirt. Emotion clamored for release, tightening my throat, making my vision go a little blurry. I was waiting for the “but.” There had to be one.
“I’m a man of my word. I promised a certain level of conduct to your brothers, and I fell short. Your brothers made it clear from the beginning that there would be consequences if anything happened between us while you were living with me,” he added. “So I thought the solution was to resign. Then we could be together. But Damian came to me and asked for heightened security before the trial, and I realized I couldn’t ditch them in their time of need. It was a moral clusterfuck. And I was terrified. It’s just made me shut down.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opened them again, the clarity there seared through me. “I just felt like if I opened up and told you about everything, including what happened with Olivia, then it would be over. I’d lose my job, lose my business, lose my heart a second time, ruin everything. But I see now that if I don’t have you, I’m still going to lose my heart and ruin everything. Because you already have my heart. And I…I don’t know, I’ll figure out what comes next. I never planned on meeting you or falling in love with you. But that’s what happened, and I’m done denying it. Please, Jordan. Will you give me a second chance?”
I was so stunned I forgot to breathe. I watched him with wide eyes until my brain started working again. Brattiness front and center.
“Well, I don’t know about that, Seven,” I tried to be defiant, but even I could hear the quake in my voice. “You’ll probably need to ask my handler, Trojan, for permission.”
“I already have,” Seven shot back. “Trojan would die a happy man if we admitted everything and made it official. He’s been begging me to stop being a miserable asshole for weeks.”
I tried not to show how much I relished every word that came out of his mouth. Internally, I was turning into a puddle of goo for this man. I could never forget the intensity of his dark gaze on me, the way he drank me in. He only saw me. Only wanted me.
And however defiant I acted, he was the only man for me.
I sniffed, straightening my back. “Well, I need to think about it.”
He dipped his chin, gritting his teeth. “Jordan.” That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, and I loved knowing this.
“I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow,” I flipped my ponytail over my shoulder, trying to signal the end of this conversation. But he didn’t back away. He only drew closer.
“Don’t be a brat.”
I couldn’t fight the evil grin. “Only way I know how to be.”
He leaned closer, his lips a breath away from mine. “Then let me rephrase. Don’t be a brat without me. Be my brat.”
His words sank into me like caramel drizzle in foam, the sweetest treat that had me dizzy and flying high. His lips were against mine then, slow and seeking. The masculine heat of him sank into me. My head tipped back, and suddenly his warm, rough hands were at my face. One hand slipped down my neck, resting against my collarbone. My body arched closer to him, needing to close the small distance between us, as our tongues danced and our kisses grew deeper, hungrier.
I curled my fingers into the front of his shirt, a deep shiver of satisfaction winding up my spine. When we broke for air, I looked up drunkenly at him.