Jordan sat up in the bed. “Ty,” she called out again, reaching for his arm. He bolted upright next to her. “What? What, baby? What is it?” She looked at him and felt herself flush with heat. “I . . . I don’t know.” A disturbing combination of guilt ...
“Hey, wake up. Come on, baby.” Jordan vaguely registered a voice. Ty’s voice, she thought. “Wake up, Jordan.” She heard it again, but couldn’t quite manage to wake. Then the soft brush of lips covered hers. Warm and teasing...
Fucking. Hard.—to sound patient and coherent. But it was after six a.m. and he’d spent three hours driving to Jordan’s condo in St. Louis and back. He’d yet to make contact with her. He figured if anyone knew where she’d gone, it would be Bahan. When he called, Bahan confirmed that Jordan was saf...