Page 110 of Limbo

Jordan stares at the floor to avoid accidental eye contact with either of us while we all stand in uncomfortable silence. Our triangle of awkwardness ends when Vee pushes past him and runs up the stairs.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I think I need to have a little chat with Jess.”

“Yep,” I say, walking away from him.

I stop near Cousin and use him for a shield as I watch Jordan head across the room. Jess sees him and backs her way into the kitchen with adon’t kill melook on her face, and they disappear behind the swinging door. I stare at it, mad about how he handled Vee, not answering her calls and dodging her so he wouldn’t have to deal with her. Also, why the hell didn’t he chase after me like all the other times, so we could fight about this, and I could go make him deal with her now?

I glare at the door until I can’t stand it anymore and march through the living room, ready to bring the fight to him. But when I step into the kitchen, his hands are on Jess’s shoulders, head lowered so it’s level with hers. Our eyes meet, and the look he gives me is a combination of apology and guilt.

It occurs to me why he never chased after me. He never needed to. Jordan Waters is fast-forwarding and dealing with the problem on his own.

His hands fall away from Jess, and he crosses the room and kisses my forehead. “I’ll fix it.”

“I know,” I say. And I do.

The guy I met a few months ago might not have cared about making things right, but I shouldn’t have doubted that the one standing in front of me would want to.

He half-smiles before he pushes out the door.

A panicked Jess enters my line of sight. “I’m so sorry, Callie. I should have told you the first night you brought him to the dorms.”

“And why didn’t you exactly?” I ask, not sure how mad I want to be yet.

She knots her fingers together and squirms before she blurts out, “Because he’s really hot, and I didn’t want Vee’s weird obsession to keep you from screwing him.”

Benji chuckles from his post, leaning against a counter. “Sound logic.”

When I shoot him a look, he slides a hand over his mouth to cover his huge grin.

“I’m so, so, so sorry. Like so—”

Before she hits a new record ofsos in one breath, I stop her. “I get it. You shouldn’t have done it, but you’re right. If you had told me, I would have done something stupid to get revenge on him.”

“More revenge,” Benji corrects. My attention snaps back to him, and he laughs. “Your boyfriend has a big mouth.”

I roll my eyes, unable to stop a smile when he winks.

Not wanting the drama to put a damper on the night, I grant forgiveness, and a group hug takes place in which Benji inserts himself into the middle.

After Felicia and Jess start talking about rearranging the living room, he bumps his shoulder into mine. “He’s crazy about you, woman. No matter how many times he fucks up, remember that.”

I never have a chance to respond.

The kitchen door bangs open, and Jordan charges in. I gasp as he scoops me up, not even slowing down. He carries me through the kitchen and into the laundry room in the far corner of the house. His foot kicks the door shut behind us, and he sets me on top of the washing machine. He cages me in, standing between my legs, hands on either side of me.

“Jordan, what the hell are—”

“Don’t talk,” he says, out of breath.

The room’s dark, except the soft glow of a disturbing clown-face nightlight in the corner, but it’s more than enough to see the look that sends a shot of panic racing through me. My mind scrambles for a way to stop him from saying what I think he’s going to say when, out of nowhere, his mouth crashes into mine.

That’ll work.

I grab his face so he can’t pull away. A husky sound escapes his throat as my tongue finds his, and we’re done talking. Everything turns desperate, our hands and lips and breaths. I push up his shirt until he finishes pulling it off. His hands run up my sides, dragging the bottom of my top with them. Once it’s off, he slides me to the edge of the washer, and I lock my legs around him. Our mouths meld together again as I pull his hips forward, so he rocks against me. With each grind of his hips, mine move, seeking more contact, and he presses into me harder.

When he breaks his mouth away from me and the friction stops, I almost whimper. He dashes to the stool on one side of the room and wedges it under the door handle, then he’s right back between my legs, lips on my neck. His tongue flicks over my skin. I unbutton his jeans and slip my fingers under the waistband—

“Damn it, Callie.” Jordan jerks back a step, no longer touching me. “You’re doing this to distract me.”

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