Save My Soul (11 page)

Pulling her leg off the front seat and settling into a kneeling position on the carpeted floor, Maggie patted the leather. “Sit.”

He hesitated.

She stretched toward him and tugged on the waistband of his pants, sliding the fabric over his hot skin to maneuver around the proof of his lingering desire. “I said sit.”

This time, he did as he was told, and the mini-power trip thrilled her. She imagined few people got Jordon Kemmons to obey … but she did.

Maggie flashed a sly smile and gripped his swollen penis, letting the power and electricity heat her blood. She heard his head hit the back of the seat with a moan as soon as her lips brushed across his sensitive tip. Rolling her tongue over the top and around the edge, she concentrated on giving him pleasure.

When she took him completely into her mouth, he slid a hand through her hair and massaged her neck. “Maggie.”

Edging closer to orgasm when he whispered her name, she pressed her thighs together to feed the luscious spasms.

With the next sweep of her tongue, he gripped the hair at the base of her neck, tugging gently on the roots. Maggie whimpered as she worked him over, pumping her mouth until a large portion of Jordon's pent-up sexual frustration released.

She lingered between his legs, feeling the thick muscles in his thighs relax beneath her hands. She would've stayed there longer, savoring her power, had someone not knocked on the window.

Several silent seconds passed as Jordon reassembled his pants. Maggie waited for him to say something, anything. Thank you, maybe … nope. He grunted a couple times as he dressed, but otherwise said nothing to acknowledge Maggie's presence or gift.

This was not how she expected their encounter to go — or end. As usual, she felt confused and frustrated by his actions and reactions. When he rolled down the window, she struggled to look innocent when she felt anything but.

“Boss Man, we can't find Carlos.”

How did anyone doubt karma?

Jordon leaped from the town car, leaving Maggie behind. He flashed his eyes between every car, under every truck. “What happened?”

Bernie weaved in and out of the parked cars behind him. “He got a phone call, and he left to take it. Tabby and I went to look for him when he didn't come back.”

“Why am I the warden?” Jordon bit into the F-word with an anger uncharacteristic even for him. Maggie's fault. She was too deep in his head. He should be one-hundred-percent focused on Carlos. Instead, he was nursing wounds from what did or didn't happen in the back seat of his car.

Why did he care? He got what he wanted, didn't he? Sure, the pleasure was one-sided, but he knew better than most people that life wasn't balanced. He also wasn't a soft-hearted guy. Walking away from the negotiation table with his needs met was what mattered most, wasn't it? Then why was he hung up on Maggie's willingness to bypass the foreplay and get right to the main event?

He charged the pavement in the opposite direction of Bernie and Maggie, needing space. His breath came heavy like a bull's. While he walked alone, scanning the parking lot for Carlos, he tried his damnedest to push thoughts of the aggravating woman he was trying to outrun from his head. He failed. Miserably.

He didn't get it. She'd been all over him in the kitchen. He expected the same enthusiasm in the car.
Damn!
If he'd suspected for one minute that being honest with her would demote him to a pitiful psych patient, he would've kept his mouth shut and continued to brood from a distance.

Clenching his teeth together, Jordon swore under his breath. He wished he could muster some high-and-mighty principles when it came to Maggie. The simple fact that he invited her to North Carolina after months of fantasizing about her proved how weak he was, and then he confirmed it in the backseat of the town car by letting her take control. He wanted the release enough to sell the soul she didn't think he had.

Up ahead, the parking lot ended at a row of trees. Beyond the shadows, street lamps and headlights flickered. If Carlos was out there, Jordon wasn't going to find him by chance. He reached into his front pocket for his phone, hoping the kid would answer.

Before Jordon could dial, the screen lit up with Bernie's text.
Found him.

Jordon veered right, making his way back toward the lights of the shopping mall, while Bernie described their exact location in a follow-up text. A few minutes later, Jordon saw Maggie with her bony knees and long legs scrunched on the curb, and Carlos lying belly-up on the grass. Jordon snarled and quickened the pace, passing Bernie and feeling angrier with every step.

Maggie must've seen him coming and sensed his mood, because she stood and walked toward him with a frustrating calm. “It's all good. Why don't you and Bernie bring the car around?”

That damn short dress … and those damn high heels. He'd never met a woman who flaunted her uniqueness in such an overtly sexual manner. He knew it wasn't rational, but he wanted to punish her for his loss of control, for making him feel more than he expected. The images in his mind turned lusty and bordered on perverse. When Jordon noticed Tabitha lurking in the shadows, he was reminded that turning Maggie's bare ass over his knee wasn't his top concern.

He sidestepped her. “Carlos, get up.”

“Jordon, don't. Not here.” Maggie grabbed his wrist, but he pulled free.

“Get up now. This pisses me off. What the hell is going on?” He bent over the young man, who still looked like a boy with watery eyes and quivering bottom lip. Emotion tugged on Jordon's heart. “I'm sorry. Don't cry. Please, don't cry. Come on, man. Guys don't cry.”

Jordon didn't care what the suit cost or that the ground was damp from the underground sprinkler system. He dropped to his knees and sat down next to Carlos. “We can fix this — whatever it is.”

Carlos blinked.

The kid obviously didn't want to talk, and Jordon was happy to oblige. “How about we forget it ever happened? I won't say another word if you get up, get in the car and stop crying.”

On a shaky exhale, Carlos rolled to his side and sat.

“Thatta boy.” Jordon smacked his back and looked smugly at Maggie who was shaking her head, giant silver hoops dangling from the lobes he'd been nibbling.

With a shove, Jordon pushed off the wet grass to stand. He watched Carlos and Tabitha slide into the car. And then he saw Maggie, sauntering toward him. He had half a mind to walk away.

“Just once I'd like to hear you support the kid without demeaning him,” she said.

Jordon scoffed. “Who cares how I did it? I got him into the car, didn't I? The end result is what matters.” If that was what he believed, then why was he so bothered by his inability to keep her entertained in the backseat of his car? He got the end result of most men's dreams.

Maggie took a half-step back and blinked a few times. “I disagree. I think the journey matters as much as the destination. I also disagree with your take on male emotion. I've seen plenty of enlightened men cry.”

Jordon wanted to call her a liar, because if she cared at all about
the journey
she wouldn't have rushed what they shared. And please, enlightened men crying? There wasn't even a response for that.

He walked before he said something he'd regret, but she stopped his forward motion with a hand to his back. “Did I do something wrong?”

Once again, he thought about telling her, but then he realized they were on display for the occupants of the town car. Besides, he wasn't the kind of guy who admitted his weaknesses. Each time he did, someone used them against him.

Jordon shook his head. “No, Maggie. It was me. I misunderstood what was happening between us.” He bit his bottom lip, having said more than he wanted to say.

“What
is
happening between us?”

Her question hung heavy between them, but the ache in Jordon's chest wasn't enough to produce an answer. “No more questions,” he said. “You'll have to figure things out on your own.”

He walked away, even more frustrated than he'd been earlier in the evening. When he reached the car and slumped inside, he slammed the car door, wishing he could do the same to his rusty heart.

The spider sat on Maggie's thigh. She tried to scream, but her lips fused shut. She tried to move, but her limbs went limp.

Save me.

Thoughts formed. She looked around her office for Crystal or Paul … even Carlos, while her heart thudded an unsettling beat. She blinked and jumped to the purple velvet sofa, while the spider scurried across the floor.

Save me.

Maggie looked for a cup to catch him in. He slipped beneath the door as her heart roared in her ears. She followed him into the hall … but she wasn't in the hall. The spider raced across Jordon's loft, bolting underneath the poker table. She willed her feet to follow despite distant warnings, and ended outside a closed door, hand on the knob. When she opened the door, the spider sat in the middle of Jordon's bed.

Save me.

Maggie forced her eyes open and snapped out of the dream. She sat, threw aside the covers and bit back a scream. After what she'd been through tonight, she needed peaceful sleep. Instead, her mind continued to torment her with visions of spiders who led to Jordon, when Jordon wanted nothing more to do with her.

Humpf!
Maggie glared at the clock. Two hours passed since she extracted herself from the mausoleum of a living room where Carlos and Jordon watched sports television until they drooled. Nobody spoke. If it weren't for her genuine interest in whether or not Carlos had recovered from his unexpected relapse, she would've locked herself inside her room upon arrival.

She stilled and listened. When she first climbed into bed, she could hear the television rumbling below her. Now, nothing but silence slipped through the floor boards. Good. Everyone in their own bed. Where they belonged. Not that there was another option. Not that she expected to sleep anywhere else. What happened in the car was …

What was it, Maggie?
She reached behind her, pinched a pillow and pitched it across the room.
It was stupid.

She knew she could come up with better descriptors than one that made her sound like a five-year-old, but the alternate descriptions weren't exactly supporting her initial claim. While her head thought her actions in the car were stupid, her body and her heart felt … other things.

What happened in the car was more power and passion than she'd enjoyed in a long time. Shaking her head as she stood to stretch, Maggie hoped Jordon was having similar thoughts. Weeding through them could be the thing keeping him agitated. She frowned at her attempt to rationalize his rude behavior, but then reminded herself she wasn't making excuses for him — she was analyzing what was happening between them.

What
was
happening between them?

She shook her head again, hoping to scatter some of the confusion, but the questions settled in the same order. Was she helping Jordon get back on the proverbial horse? Maggie choked a little on the dirty thought. Or was she scratching her own festering itch? Maybe a little of both. Did it matter?

Forcing a blast of air over loose lips, she wanted to focus on Carlos and leave Jordon alone. But since the latter proved impossible, there was obviously something brewing between them beyond Jordon's need for sex and her desire to help him heal. Wasn't there? Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose and wished she could stop thinking of new questions when she hadn't thought of answers for the old ones. Jordon wanted her to figure the answers out on her own, but she wasn't having much luck. She would rather figure them out with him.

Smoothing the hem of her poet's blouse over her backside, Maggie crossed to the door. The V-neck slipped off one shoulder and she patted the cotton into place, tiptoeing past Carlos's room. By the time she'd descended the stairs, the fabric slipped again, and she lifted a hand to the ruffle but froze when she saw Jordon.

The room was dark, the television quiet. He was wide awake, an empty tumbler in hand.

“Hi.” She stepped toward him.

He didn't speak, simply leaned forward and set his glass on the table.

Maggie refused to be deterred. She moved to the sofa and curled a leg underneath her before sitting beside him. The sound of his breathing mixed with the questions in her head.

She drew a breath, and her exhale echoed in the silence. “I … ” She breathed in and out again. “Jordon, I think … ”
Ugh!
Why couldn't she say something meaningful? She rolled her eyes to the ceiling before trying again. “I'm struggling here.”

Better. The words weren't perfect, but they were honest and formed a complete sentence.

He turned to face the black beyond the glass. “Let me help you out, Maggie. You're struggling because I don't
do it
for you. Being with me in the car set you straight on a few things, like maybe there's a reason Jordon hasn't had sex for a while, it's because he's … ”

She grabbed his arm. “Stop it. You're being ridiculous.”

He turned narrowed eyes on her. “Am I? You sure as hell couldn't get it over with fast enough.”

The words stunned her. Was that what she projected? “Jordon, it was the backseat of a car. I'm not exactly short. I had a cramp in my neck and a charlie horse in my thigh, and you had … to hurry.”

His laughter rumbled the emptiness between them. “Seriously? If the only things you felt were cramps and the need to hurry, then I must be worse than I thought.” He looked away again.

Maggie rubbed her hand up his arm and scooted closer. “You're not. That's not what I meant. Jordon, look at me.” She reached for his jaw and turned his head. When his eyes connected with hers, she felt a jolt. Heat spread over her cheeks, cascading down her chest to swirl in her belly. Her lips twitched and she almost kissed him as proof, but where would that lead? Probably someplace neither one of them was ready to go … yet. She sighed. “I feel much more than cramps when I'm with you.”