of it.”
She jerked the t-shirt down over her head. “Want to try it?”
“Not really. This worked out pretty well for me.”
He didn’t even attempt to turn away. Or avert his eyes. Or apologize. In fact, he watched her jab her arms through the sleeves with a grin.
He seemed completely comfortable watching her dress.
Jordan was completely…not uncomfortable. Which was very weird.
But not as weird as the ribbon of heat that curled through her stomach.
She and Fletcher were incredibly easy with one another. Fletcher had been the one to explain what people meant when they talked about “sixty-nine” and what wet dreams were. They’d belched and puked in front of one another. They’d cried on each other’s shoulders. They’d covered for one another when in trouble with their parents. Fletcher had come straight to her the one—and only—time a girlfriend had told him she thought she was pregnant. She hadn’t been, but Jordan was the one he’d panicked with until he knew for sure.
If anyone other than her boyfriend were to see her in her underwear, she would be most comfortable with it being Fletcher.
Theoretically.
But, while she wasn’t uncomfortable, she wouldn’t call what she was feeling comfortable either. She felt a little jittery. Not nervous, not worried, not awkward. But like she’d taken a shot of espresso and needed an outlet for the energy.
In other words, she was feeling turned on.
Girl, you’re just horny. You should have brought your vibrator with you.
She grabbed for something to put on her bottom half. The white capris wouldn’t have been her first choice for a day of travel, but she just needed to be covered up. Now.
She shimmied into the pants, grabbed a pair of white, rhinestone-studded canvas tennis shoes, and slipped them on.
Then she smoothed her hand down the front of her outfit and finally looked at Fletcher directly.
“No fucking way.”
“What?” she asked.
“You’re not wearing that.”
His tone was bossy and firm and he was no longer grinning.
She looked down. Her t-shirt had Jason’s face on the front of it.
She looked up at Fletcher. And snorted at his expression. He looked like he’d just smelled a dirty diaper.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Jordan teased.
“Take it off,” Fletcher told her.
Now, see? Having her best childhood friend tell her to take her clothes off should not be hot. Funny maybe. Weird for sure. But not hot.
It was completely hot.
“It was just the first thing I grabbed,” she said. “But it will work.”
Fletcher took a step forward. “Take it off. Or I’ll take it off of you.”
Jordan’s heart thumped hard inside her chest and her stomach swooped. What? a little voice in the back of her mind asked.
But she knew what. And so did that little voice.
She immediately flashed back to the night she and Fletcher had spent in Galveston, stuck in a roadside motel, just the two of them, in the middle of a tropical storm.
Her nipples remembered too. They were suddenly tight and hard and she was pretty sure he noticed. Again.
She wet her lips. “It’s really that big of a deal?”
He took the three remaining steps between them, stopping nearly on top of her toes. He reached for the hem of the shirt and, without a word, tugged it up. For some reason, she raised her arms over her head so that he could strip it off of her.
Yeah, her nipples really liked that. And the rest of her seemed to as well.
Fletcher’s eyes were hot and his voice was rough when he said, “Find something else.”
What were they talking about again? She couldn’t really think when he was standing this close. If his hands in her hair had been distracting, this was forget-her-own-name stuff.
“I…” Yeah, she couldn’t come up with anything.
Without breaking eye contact, Fletcher reached for her suitcase. He grabbed something from the top. “Here.”
Jordan simply raised her arms again, possibly because her brain seemed to have disconnected. He drew the garment over her head and arms, sliding it down her body, and tugging it into place.
Jordan managed to pull her gaze from his to look down. She was now dressed in a pale pink tank top, white capris, and her sparkly tennis shoes.
Well, okay then. At least she was dressed. And not in a Fletcher-offending t-shirt. She could totally go to the airport like this. It was fine.
“We need to go. We have a plane to catch,” Fletcher said. His voice was still rough and he hadn’t stepped back yet.
Yep. An airport was a good idea. A busy place with