Jordana had to start taking steps on her own path. Walking away from a relationship she didn’t want and couldn’t honor with her whole heart had been a good start to that goal.
Halting her dangerous attraction to Nathan had also been a step in the right direction.
A good, sensible step.
Except telling Nathan tonight that she didn’t want to see him ever again hadn’t done anything to curb how she felt about him.
She couldn’t begin to deny that she was attracted to him. After the pleasure he gave her in the elevator, her traitorous body only wanted more.
But worse than her physical need for him was her interest in him emotionally. He intrigued her. He frustrated and infuriated her.
He confused her, enflamed her, made her crave things she hardly dared think, let alone act on with anyone but him.
And he’d hurt her more than anyone ever had too. A pain that shouldn’t have surprised her so much. Shouldn’t have wounded her so deeply.
She’d felt more for Nathan in a period of a few days than she had for Elliott in all the years she’d known him.
Everything about Nathan was intense, from the rugged perfection of his face and bleak, thundercloud eyes, to the seductive power that clung to him as menacingly as the darkness of his Hunter past.
And she must be a fool of the highest order to imagine she might have gotten close to him without getting burned.
Thankfully she’d come to her senses before she’d done something really stupid, like letting him into her bed.
Or worse, letting him into her heart.
Too late for that.
“No, it isn’t,” she muttered to herself, scolding the all-too-eager, all-too-knowing voice of her conscience.
And dammit, that merciless little voice was right. It was too late to pretend there was nothing between Nathan and her.
Too bad she was the only one feeling it.
Jordana took a sip of her tea, grimacing at the bitterness. Stirring in a large spoonful of sugar, she scowled into the swirling tendril of steam rising up from the cup. “Anyway, he’s gone now, so what does it matter?”
Her cup of tea clutched in both hands as she sipped the sweet brew, Jordana stepped out of the kitchen, back into her living room.
And felt her grip go slack as she nearly collided with six and a half feet of black leather and dark, simmering male.
Nathan caught the cup as it slid from her grasp, not so much as flinching when the hot tea sloshed over his strong fingers. Stormy eyes held her startled gaze beneath the slash of his raven’s-wing brows.
Seeing him sent a surge of emotions flooding through Jordana, but the first one to leap to her tongue was outrage. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Damn him, he didn’t even blink. “Proving a point,” he replied, his deep growl doing all kinds of bad things to her heart rate. “This is how quickly you can go from thinking you’re safe and secure, to pushing out your last breath.”
Jordana hiked up her chin. “I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”
“You did.”
He might as well have shrugged one of those bulky shoulders for the lack of apology or excuse in his tone. How dare he think he could just ignore her wishes?
“Breaking into my apartment hardly qualifies as staying away from me.”
No acknowledgment, but as he set her steaming teacup down on the sofa table next to them, his dark gaze flicked past her briefly, toward the kitchen. “Is someone here with you? Maybe I’m here at an inopportune time … again.”
“What?” She frowned, unsure what to make of that comment. Did he think Elliott was with her? “No one’s here with me. Why?”
“You were talking to someone as I came in.”
Oh, God. Talking to herself. Trying to assure herself that if she never saw Nathan again, it would be too soon. And now here he was, standing in front of her in the middle of her apartment, questioning her like a jealous lover and making her blood race like wildfire through her veins.
“I’m here by myself. As if it’s any concern of yours,” she added, grasping feebly for anger when his dark gaze—his very presence—had her breath coming shallow and fast, her heart pounding frantically in her breast. She crossed her arms as if to contain her body’s eager reaction to him. “What do you want, Nathan?”
The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, more scowl than smile. “I doubt you really want to know the answer to that question, Miss Gates.”
Was he toying with her, getting some kind of twisted enjoyment out of her discomfiture the way he got other thrills from the women who serviced him at La Notte?
Jordana swallowed hard, half tempted to make him tell her so. But she couldn’t let herself fall back into that trap. She was nothing to him; he’d demonstrated that clearly enough last night.
“You need to leave now, Nathan. I’m not interested in playing your games, and I certainly don’t appreciate you breaking into my apartment.”
“I don’t play games,” he said, crisp and cool. “Nor did I break in. I leapt up to the balcony from the street. The slider was unlocked, which only helps to prove my point. You’re not safe. I might just as easily have been whoever killed Cassian Gray tonight.”
Shit. She wasn’t actually in any kind of danger, was she? Dread knotted in her belly as she glanced to the slider across the room. The large glass door was locked now, the latch securely in place.
She looked back at Nathan, hating that she now had to add gratitude to the list of unwanted emotions his unannounced visit was stirring inside her.