Love Bait

37| After effect

My first thought is how good it feels waking up in Jordan's arms. His breath is soft, fluttery against my cheek. I'm so happy that for a second I am still, terrified that the slightest movement will steal this moment away from me.

It's still dark in here, as though we exist in a space where time no longer exists, but a quick glance at the phone on my nightstand reveals it's only three a.m. There are several messages from Dad, so I message him back to let him know we're okay and then turn back to Jordan, tracing his features with my gaze. There is a boyish innocence to him in this state, a vulnerability I'm not used to. It makes me want to litter him with kisses, but I don't dare risk disturbing him.

A part of me still can't believe this has happened. I've been trying so hard to protect future me from any heartache, and now here I am, lying in bed with Jordan, setting myself up for a world of pain if this doesn't pan out.

And it was worth it.

My heart pounds as I lean on his chest, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat as it gently thrums in my ear. I'm used to it pounding away from a storm, but this time it's soft, steady, as though he's completely at ease. Eyes closed, I try to make the most of it. In a week's time, Jordan will be back in Chicago and the feel of his arms wrapped around me will feel like a distant dream.

Slowly, he stirs. His arms pull me closer, so I lift my head and rest it in the groove of his neck. Eyes still closed, his mouth finds my forehead, warm, soft, and kisses me gently. For a moment, all I can do is replay last night, over and over in my head. The way he was gentle, attentive, passionate. I could have a million nights just like the one we had last night, and it still wouldn't be enough; I will always want more.

Reaching up, I cup his face, pulling his mouth toward mine. He's still tired, I can tell, but it doesn't stop him from pulling me on top of him. I place both hands on his chest and lean forward, lightly kissing his nose. My hair falls around him, acting like a curtain from the rest of the world as his mouth catches mine.

The rain is back, bringing with it a chill to the air. Goosebumps spread along my arms, and Jordan draws me closer to his chest, running his hands across my skin. With the lightest touch, he brushes his thumb across my collarbone, along cleavage, before cupping me in his hands. I breathe in sharply, his touch dizzying, and bury my face in his neck.

Everything about this feels bittersweet, each touch not only a declaration but a goodbye. There will be no kissing or touching when he's back in Chicago, there's only fear and uncertainty.

The way my body starts to retreat is involuntary. Jordan pulls me back again, flipping us so that he's now on top. His arms rest either side of my face, trapping me in place. 

Against my ear, in a low, even voice, he says, "You're not going anywhere." 

I smile a little. "What are you going to do, keep me prisoner?"

"If I have to." He kisses me gently. "I meant what I said before about making this work. I'm not going anywhere, either."

That's not true, I want to say. You're going back to Chicago, but I know what he means, and even though I wish I didn't, I believe him.

"I know," I say, looking up. I have never felt more vulnerable. "I trust you."

He leans in closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "I trust you, too," he whispers, and my body swells with heat. His hand trails my stomach, resting between my thighs, and just like that, everything else fades and the only thing I think about is him.

***

The next time I wake, it's to Jordan nuzzling my neck. I smile and turn toward him, hating the thought of leaving this bed and facing the rest of the world. But then Jordan's stomach growls, and I rouse myself into action, throwing on a t-shirt before tiptoeing downstairs to gather some food. He changes too and follows behind me, his steps slightly cautious as though the storm is about to surge through the shutters and carry us away. I open the back door and take a quick peek, but everything seems still, quiet – the lull before the next round.