Page 94 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
“That’s not all,” I whisper, tears sprouting in my eyes. “I don’t know how, but he managed to convince every lab in Sun City that I am undesirable. I applied to every position possible, and I never even got a phone call. The one person I managed to get in contact with over email told me that my employment history called up some red flags and they were unwilling to consider me at the time. Unless I want to leave Sun City—leave my family—I can never get a job doing what I love. Thanks to James. That’s why this fellowship is my only chance. Why I’m so desperate to be Teacher of the Year, even if it’s a long shot.”
I don’t know how long we stand there before Jordan finally speaks. “Brooklyn Briggs,” he murmurs, far gentler than I expect. “You are the strongest person I know.”
“I’m not. I’m miserable.”
“You’re still standing, no matter how many men have tried to knock you down because of their own insecurities.” He pulls away, though he keeps his hands on my shoulders as his eyes lock on mine. “I am honored to know you, Queens. Every part of you.”
I don’t think anyone has ever said anything more beautiful than that. Even his nickname for me sounded like the highest of praise. “Jordan.” I don’t know what else I can say.
His hand shifts until his palm cups my cheek, thumb brushing away my tears. Something sparks to life in his eyes as he gazes at me, and he clenches his jaw. There’s a chemical reaction happening inside him, like potassium in water, burning hot and fast. And when he speaks, his voice is raw. “Brook, I really want to kiss you.”
My breath catches. “I really want you to kiss me too.”
He doesn’t waste that invitation, closing the space between us and pressing his mouth to mine. His lips are warm and firm as he takes his time with this kiss, exploring each curve of my mouth like an archaeologist unearthing a fragile bone.
I’ve kissed a lot of guys. It’s not necessarily something I’m proud of, but it’s fact. And I know when a man is holding back. So I wrap my arms around his neck and take charge, diving in deeper. We’re past the point of subtlety—I want a kiss, and I want it now. This is not the time for carefully dusting away the sand around the treasure; give me a crowbar and I’ll get us to the prize.
Jordan groans, hands sliding around my waist as he pulls me closer and matches my enthusiasm with his own. He backs me up until my hips hit the back of the couch, and then his hands are in my hair, at the small of my back, around my waist again. It’s like he can’t decide where to hold, and each touch feels like fire against my skin.
I’ve never been kissed the way Jordan kisses me. It’s not a simple desire fueling our embrace but something deeper. Stronger. Jordan kisses me with intention, telling me with each touch of his lips that he’s here by choice and wants to stay.
When we finally break apart, I don’t remember the last time I took a breath, and I drop my head against his chest as I struggle to inhale. Jordan seems just as breathless as he uses one hand to brace himself on the couch, the other holding me in place.
“Queens,” he rasps.
“Yeah,” I reply. I don’t actually know what he was going to say, but I agree.
One of my hands has ended up pressed against his abdomen, which means my fingers are getting an up close ab experience through his shirt, and I’m not mad about it. I run my fingers from his ribcage down to the hem of his jeans, counting as I go.
Jordan laughs and grabs my hand before I can do any more exploring. “Are you trying to get me into trouble?”
Though his words are a joke, there’s truth to them, and my stomach clenches as I lift my head to meet his gaze. “Houston.”
He nods, but then he captures my mouth with another kiss as if he can’t help himself now that he has made visual contact with my lips again. He keeps this kiss far tamer than I would like, but that’s probably for the best.
“He’s going through something right now,” he says eventually, running his fingers through my hair to smooth it. “I’m worried he’s going to think he’s losing everything.”
I frown. “Everything? What about baseball?”
Jordan sighs. “That’s not my secret to tell.”
I don’t like the sound of that. Why would Houston be losing baseball if he still has a year on his contract? “Maybe this Darcy girl will be able to help him get through things, if he really is interested.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t look convinced, though.
Reaching up, I trace the length of his jawline as he closes his eyes, like he wants to truly feel my touch. He’s always been so handsome, but I’ve never given myself the time to really look. He has a scar on his chin, just a small one on the right side, but the rest of his face is so perfect, like he was sculpted from clay. Stubble lines his jaw, though it will be gone in the morning because Jordan has always been clean-shaven, but the rest of his skin is so smooth and flawless. I’m almost tempted to ask him for his skincare routine.
As if reading my thoughts, Jordan smiles and opens his eyes. “I know it’s hard to believe I am this handsome, but I don’t want to keep you up too late when you have a big day planned tomorrow. We were supposed to watch a movie tonight.”
Who needs a movie when I’ve got my own romance blossoming right in front of me? I put on my best flirty smile and hook my fingers on his belt loops so he can’t get far. “I seem to remember you saying something about having a hard time sitting still during movies.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Queens. I’m happy to massage your feet.”
I shake my head and lean up on my toes so my mouth is level with his. “I had other ideas in mind.”
Fire ignites in his eyes again as he leans forward and accepts my invitation with a slow, delicious kiss. Though I never thought I would say it, this is way better than the Mr. Darcy hand flex.
By far.
