Page 31 of Pucking Forbidden

“The code for the door is 11992. You can let yourself in,” I whisper, butterflies dancing a freaking ballet in my stomach.

His expression softens. “My birthday.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have revealed that. It’s a giant, flaming arrow, pointing out just how deep my feelings for him still run. Will it send him running? Crap. Maybe I should pretend I don’t know it’s his birthday?

“What?” I ask, trying to stall.

He narrows his eyes on me, his voice a warning rumble coming through the phone. “Don’t piss me off, princess. Your code is my birthday.”

“I…”

“How long?”

“I just moved in here two months ago.”

“How long, Sutton?”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “Six years,” I whisper. “It’s been my code for everything for six years, okay?”

“Jesus,” he rasps. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

I shake my head, terrified to face him. Afraid of rejection. Of hearing him tell me that we’re just having a little bit of fun. That he likes me, but he got over those feelings a long time ago. Part of me screams that my fears are irrational, but the biggest part of me? Well, that part hasn’t ever been rational when it comes to him. It’s just been…his.

“Open your eyes, Sutton.”

I can’t deny him when he growls at me like that. He’s so damn bossy. And it’s irresistible.

I crack my eyes open, peeking at the phone screen…pretty certain my cheeks are blazing red.

“I fucking love knowing you held onto me however you could,” he says. “You’re not changing that code. Ever.”

I choke on a whimper, hope blasting through me in a riptide. Maybe the future I wanted so desperately isn’t broken beyond repair. Maybe, just maybe, it’s still there, just waiting for us to claim it.

“Okay,” I whisper.

His lips quirk into a grin, softening his expression again. He looks more like the Jordan I remember when he smiles. Softer. Less angry at the world. “Get some sleep, princess. You’re going to need it.”

“Goodnight,” I murmur, swallowing back the same confession I had to swallow yesterday. Three little words I’ve never said to anyone. The three with the power to break me into pieces no onewill ever be able to put back together. That power is his, though. It’s always been his.

I wake up with my legs over his shoulders and his breath on my pussy. My entire body hums with electricity as I stretch and moan, thrown from sleep straight into heady desire.

“Morning, princess,” he rasps, flicking his gaze up to look at me. “You awake yet?”

“Y-yes,” I whisper.

“Good. Then there’s nothing stopping me from doing this.” He sticks his tongue out, touching the very tip of it to my clit.

My hips jolt in his hold, a current of pleasure flowing through me.

“Jordan,” I moan.

“I thought about licking this pretty little thing until you were wide awake and moaning for me,” he says, nipping at my skin. “But I wanted to make sure you knew it was me between your legs, Sutton. I won’t have you afraid, not for a second.”

“I’m n-not afraid of you.”

“Good.” He licks me again. “Because I’d fucking kill for you.”

I’m pretty sure he means that. He already spent five years in hell for me, just to keep my relationship with Jamison intact. Maybe that’s all the proof I need of his devotion. It’s been right there in front of me all along. This man never stopped caring. He’s loved me just as intensely as I’ve always loved him. I don’t think he ever stopped.

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