Page 71 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

I hesitate because I remember how Dez treated the shiny little treasure I dared to share with him. What if Jordan is just as callous? But when I give it to him, he studies it in the sun, twists it side to side with an appreciative smile. “Very pretty. What do you do with it?”

“I make things,” I say, beaming. “I mean … I used to.”

“Why don't you now?”

Folding my arms behind my back, I look to the side. “The kiln I make ceramics with to decorate isn't usable anymore.”

“How come?”

“Just a bunch of rose bushes and other brush in the way. It’s a lot of work to pull everything out of the ground.” Jordan arches an eyebrow at my explanation. But I have a new topic, one that involves him. “You like roses, don't you?” I ask.

He clutches the sea glass. “Sort of. They were Deena's favorite, white roses especially.” He grabs his wet pants, peeling them up until he reveals the tattoo I saw at the engagement party. “I had this done after she passed away.”

I nod, fascinated by the difference in how we grieve. He had ink done as a memorial to remember Deena. I did all I could to forget my father entirely.

"Can I keep this?" he asks, holding up the sea glass.

Beaming at the request, I poke the sand with my toe until there's a trench. "If you want."

Jordan puts it safely in his pocket. "Thank you."

I can't explain how much that means to me.

Chapter 24

IdreamaboutJordanHartford. It's wicked, filthy, dirty stuff that makes me wake up with my hands buried between my thighs. I'm strangling my wrists in the hazy aftermath of my fantasies.

Perspiration makes my sheets cling to me, and when I tug them off, my brain shakes from its fog. But not entirely, because I can still hear his voice as it coaxes me with heart-racing phrases likegood girlandso perfectandcome for me like the greedy brat you are.

I draw in a sharp whimper. Daylight filters through my blinds; I'm definitely awake. Why do I still hear Jordan's honey-thick voice coating my eardrums?

“I'll see if she's awake yet,” my mother says, just outside my bedroom door.

The hallway light floods inside as she makes a crack, peeking in, seeing me where I'm starting to rise. “What's going on?” I yawn.

“Oh, you're up! Great. We have company.”

“What?” I ask, even as the slow horror sinks in. “Oh my god. He's here, isn't he?”

“Mr. Hartford showed up a few minutes ago. I made him some coffee.”

“Whyis he here?”

“He wanted to discuss wedding plans with me. How kind of him to go out of his way to be so involved. Lori? Are you listening?”

I'm not, I'm yanking my blankets off my naked legs, fumbling for clean clothes in my drawers.Jordan is in my house? Holy shit.I'm still resonating with wet heat in my pussy from my dreams, I'm not ready to put on a normal face and act civilized.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I'm fine, Mom, give me a second.” I trip as my leg tangles in my jeans. Sitting hard on my bed, I flatten out on my back, yank the pants up and button them. “Tell him I'll be right out!”

She leaves me alone to my whirlwind of thoughts. They spin around me, an array of possible problems that taunt me endlessly. How am I supposed to behave in front of Jordan with my mom here? I can act aloof, but will he? And is he seriously pretending he wants to be part of the wedding planning?

My mother has no clue about the courthouse fiasco. It was five days ago. She thinks I spent the morning at the beach with Cadence—she was delighted to hear about that—and hanging out with old friends. The fact Jordan is here to discuss marriage logistics doesn't strike her as weird. Mom sees Jordan as a good father who is supporting the love between his son and me.

She has no idea what he really wants.

In boxy blue jeans and a heather gray strapless top, I slide my sandals on. I look like I'm ready for a stroll in the budding warmth of these first days of June. Pausing in front of my door, I gather myself.You'll be fine. Just act casual.That would be easier if I hadn't let Jordan fuck me inside my car.

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