Beautiful Tragedy/ Book three in the Beautiful Series/ A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

3

Dallas

I WAKE WHEN IT'S NOT YET day. Not quite dawn. Today is my birthday. I was born at 5:10 a.m. I wonder if the sky outside Glory Falls Memorial Hospital looked like this to my mother. Painted with promise and not yet bright with morning. Maybe that's the reason dawn was her favorite time of day. Maybe I was the reason.

Grief is just as much about holding on as it is about letting go. I haven't felt that gut-deep hurt when I think of Mama in weeks. Perversely, I miss it. That pain keeping her memory so close to the surface of my life made forgetting her, forgetting even one moment we had together, impossible. Some days I feel guilty about the happiness I've found. Here with Jordan. In my career. In my life, but then I realize it's all she ever wanted for me. To live my dreams with a man who loved me deeply and truly. Something she ultimately didn't have.

We never closed the drapes last night. There's now just enough light intruding through the window for me to see the aggressive angles and the elegant masculinity of Jordan's profile. He's sprawled beside me, his dark hair messy on the pillow and spilling into his eyes. The sheet has slipped low, baring the strong arms and shoulders, inked in a vivid mosaic of musical notes and lyrics. I can see the firm, muscled curve of his ass. Red faintly stripes the tanned skin where my nails scored him, urging him deeper into my body. The memory of riding him last night whirs a storm cloud in my core. Last night and the promise of more this morning.

If he ever wakes up.

Geesh, he's the one who's been living on East coast time for the last week. You'd think he'd be up well before me, but his body's clock seems to be adjusting just fine to this coast, and he's fast asleep. And I've been awake for what feels like ages.

It's not excitement about my birthday that has me awake so early. Something keeps bothering me. Like I've forgotten something. Neglected something. Left something undone. I've felt that way for days, but if my subconscious knows what it is, it's not revealing it to me.

With a small sigh, I turn my attention back to the iPad in my lap. I haven't picked it up in weeks. Before I fell asleep in the bath, I was reading the script Bristol left. Now that it's a soggy, ruined mess, I opened her email to continue reading the soft copy she sent. The script's good. Really good. I'm not sure I'm good enough to play the supporting role the director has in mind for me. Sure, I took theater in high school and starred in a few school plays, but is that enough to prepare me? I haven't even started acting classes yet.

My inbox was overflowing with unopened emails. I'll go through them all later, but Bristol's were right on top. I'm refocusing on the script when a warm hand, tipped with a musician's calluses, strokes my thigh under the sheet. I fight the shiver my body involuntarily surrenders, keeping my eyes focused on the tablet. When his fingers slip over my knee, tugging until my legs stretch open, I still don't acknowledge him. I don't react when his head disappears under the sheet. It's only when I feel the first long swipe of his tongue that I . . .

"Holy crap," I whisper, tossing the tablet to the thick rug so I can grip the headboard with one hand and slide the other under the covers to fist his silky hair. His head bobs under the sheet with a thorough exploration, biting my lips, licking in the crevices, sucking my clit until I'm saturated. I'm so close. Oh, God, I'm gonna come.

But then he stops.

He pokes his head out from under the sheet, lips shiny and wet, a wide, devilish grin hanging between his lean cheeks.

"That'll teach you to ignore me." He laughs at the evil eye I give him and slides up my body until he's right above me, carrying my scent on his lips.

"Happy Birthday, baby." He drops a kiss on my mouth before scooting up and propping his shoulders against our tufted headboard. Even in my unfulfilled state I can't help but smile at him. He's home.