Page 55 of Pucking Forbidden

I make love to her for hours, only stopping when she’s too wrung out to take anymore. We fall together the final time, so wrapped up in each other, I feel her heart pounding against my chest, and I know she feels mine beating wildly for her.

The same damn way it always will.

Chapter Fourteen

Sutton

I’m nervous as hell as I pick up the phone, dialing the number Jordan gave me a week ago. It’s taken me that long to decide to call. I’ve been a mess of indecision, my mind and heart at war.

Jordan is the one who settled it. When I was in his arms last night, he asked me what my perfect future looked like so he could give it to me. But there’s one piece he can’t give me. My brother. It’s up to the two of us to fix that part. Lying there last night…I realized I want to at least try. Not because he deserves it, but because I do.

Because I deserve to know that the brother I always adored isn’t a lost cause, that he can do better and be better. That, even if he can’t undo the past or fix anything he destroyed, he can at least make every damn effort to be better than the man he was.

I want that for him. I want it for Vanessa, who deserves to know that no one else will ever suffer the same pain, turmoil, and humiliation he put her through. And I want it for me, too. Because I don’t want to go through the rest of my life a true orphan, my only link to my parents gone from my life.

It’s going to take time. A lot of it. The last week hasn’t been easy. Much to Jordan’s surprise, Montaque left us out of his story. But we haven’t escaped intense scrutiny. People know about our relationship now. They’ve been calling for interviews, showing up at the arena, and generally being a pain in the ass.

Surprisingly, they aren’t being total dicks, though. They’ve been…respectful. Cautious, almost. They back off when Jordan says back off. Mostly, they ask us about my brother. I don’t answer those questions. Neither does Jordan.

They can ask him if they want to know. We can’t answer for his crimes and sins. We’ve both suffered enough for them, Jordan most of all. I think people realize that. They respect it. So they don’t push too hard.

The phone rings as I place it at my ear.

“Stonehaven Rehabilitation. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Um, I’d like to speak to Jamison Peters, please.”

“Do you have a password?”

“P-password?”

“Yes. To speak to anyone in this facility, you’re required to have their password and be on the list of approved individuals. Without it, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Oh!” I say, worried she’s going to hang up. I forgot about the password. Jordan told me about it. I’m not sure if it’s a new thing or if they had to take extra security measures once reporters started calling them. “Um, it’s regret.”

“And who is speaking?”

“This is his sister, Sutton.”

“Hold, please.”

I guess that means it’s the right password and I’m on the list. My leg bounces nervously as I stare out at the backyard, waiting anxiously. Still not entirely sure what I’m going to say.

When Jamison comes on the line five minutes later, I still haven’t figured it out.

“Hi,” I whisper, my mouth bone dry.

“Hey,” he says. He sounds tired. “I’m glad you called.”

“How…how are you?”

“Better. The first few days were a bitch. Alcohol withdrawal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, baby sister,” he says quietly. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“I read your statement. I’m…I’m proud of you, Jamison.”

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