“Of course I do.” Carys stared at her with clear-eyed understanding. “Like you’re on the edge of a cliff and he’s a storm about to sweep you over.”
“Yeah, like that. Well, last night … I did it. I stepped off.” Jordana sighed. “I stepped off with my eyes wide open and now I’m falling. What if no one’s there to catch me? What if what I’m feeling for Nathan is sheer, heedless stupidity and I end up crashing and burning on the ground?”
Carys smiled at her in the mirror. “Sweetheart, if Nathan sees you in this dress, the only one in danger of crashing and burning will be him.”
Nathan’s comm device vibrated just as he was about to drop his knuckles on Commander Chase’s study door at the Boston compound. Paused there, he frowned and glanced at the incoming message. Probably Rafe or another member of his team, wondering why he wasn’t down in the weapons room with them, putting the crew through their daily paces.
He stared at the number on the display.
It wasn’t any of the warriors.
Jordana.
How the hell did she know his private call code?
Curious now, and more intrigued than he cared to admit, Nathan tapped the message open.
Hi. Carys gave me your number. Hope you don’t mind.
Fuck.
Yes, he did mind, but that didn’t keep him from scanning to the next short message, his veins going suddenly electric.
Can’t stop thinking about last night. About us.
Neither could he, and the distraction was driving him out of his damned mind.
I can’t stop thinking about you, inside me.
Holy fuck.
Now that hot current racing through him arced sharply south, rendering him instantly hard. He shifted his stance, for all the good that did.
He had a crystal-clear mental image of Jordana lying naked and open beneath him, and there was no way to relieve the pressure of his huge erection, which strained full and heavy in his fatigues.
Scowling furiously, he glanced to the next line.
I’ll be thinking of you at the exhibit party tonight too. Join me, maybe?
He didn’t miss the real invitation she was extending. Neither did his cock. Every blood vessel in his body lit up with eager agreement. As tempting as it was to pick up again where he and Jordana left off, Nathan growled and tried to push the idea out of his head.
He’d already let his hunger for her trump his good judgment. He may have jeopardized his team’s entire mission by taking Jordana’s virginity last night instead of bringing her in to take her statement as he would any other witness.
That was the reason he now stood outside Chase’s office, fully prepared to take whatever punishment he was due.
He’d placed his own selfish wants above his greater responsibility to his brethren last night. He couldn’t regret a moment of the hours he’d spent in Jordana’s bed, but the fact he’d done it in spite of the hard-won discipline he prided himself on—worse, that he pursued Jordana at the expense of his duty to his teammates—was a failure he intended to rectify by any means possible.
He read Jordana’s message again and groaned at his loss.
He would call her after his meeting with Chase and tell her not to expect him.
Dammit. He was going to have to try to explain to her that the next time she saw him, it would likely be on instructions to collect her and hold her at the command center as a witness until the Order felt she was of no further use in their investigation.
He could only hope she wouldn’t despise him for not having that conversation with her before she surrendered to him so openly last night.
As he berated himself for that further failure, his comm vibrated with another incoming transmission.
No message this time. Just an image.