Page 10 of Xander

“Jordan,” I greeted with a curt nod, blinking away the momentary lapse.

“Please, come in. It’s freezing outside.” She ushered me in without budging from the doorway.

My gaze pointedly rested on her body barricading the door.

“E-er right,” Amusement coated my eyes as Jordan fumbled to get out of the way, realizing her mistake. Nervous energy radiated from her. Right from the beginning, Jordan was always intimidated by me. I went to great lengths to put her at ease, even though it exasperated me whenever fans and puck bunnies acted the same.

She followed me into the foyer, her footsteps light and graceful. In the center of the room stood a grand wooden table adorned with numerous photos of me at special events, such as college graduation, Christmas holidays, and such. Though the pictures were old, the frames appeared to be new. A few of my sports trophies sat proudly, though their placements were oddly suspicious—as if things had been deliberately cleared out to make room for them. My father had erased all traces of my existence from the common areas once I had moved out. I highly doubted he made the effort to retrieve my memorabilia from storage. Skepticism tinged my gaze as I glanced at Jordan, but she didn’t comment on the display.

“Your father isn’t home yet,” she informed me with a forced smile. “He had a late meeting.”

Translation: Henry was occupied with his Thursday night ritual, his female assistant. My steely gaze burned a hole through her, assessing whether she was blatantly unaware of my father’s philandering or willfully ignorant of it. “Of course,” I muttered humorlessly.

Unasked questions swam in her skeptical sky-blue eyes, the pain in them like a gut punch. She harbored suspicions about his betrayal, and my tone only fueled those doubts.

Recovering quickly, Jordan donned her perfected mask once more. “Anyway,” she said briskly, clapping her hands together. “I want to hear about your game. I saw that you guys won. Congrats! And I want to hear about Canada, too.”

She led me into the dining room, her steps bearing a rhythmic grace that captivated me.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

I slanted my head in assent.

Jordan grabbed a bottle of wine off the rack and uncorked it. Wordlessly, she poured me a glass and extended it.

“I don’t drink alone,” I stated matter-of-factly.

She glanced uncertainly at the bottle. “But Henry isn’t home yet.”

I arched an eyebrow inquiringly. “You can’t drink unless my father is home to supervise?”

Jordan blinked. “What? No… o-of course not.”

I hid the slight twitch at the corner of my lips as she stumbled over her words. I unsettled her, even after three years.

“I-I just thought I’d wait—” Jordan began, then shook her head as if dispelling foolish thoughts. “Never mind.”

She poured herself a glass and clinked my cup before taking a sip. I wasn’t a big wine drinker and was surprised when the liquid went down easily. The wine coated my tongue as if custom-made for my taste buds.

I set the glass down, distracted by the motion of her playing with loose strands. The urge to reach out and push the hair off her face tugged at me, but I didn’t dare act upon it. The impulse made me take a deep breath, and I inhaled the intoxicating scent of her vanilla perfume in the process. A hint of fresh apples in the scent further clouded my judgment. My gaze trailed to her delicate throat, which had always been a subject of fascination for me. The slender column held my attention captive.

A knot formed in my throat, constricting my breath. Heat surged through my veins, replacing the tranquility I prided myself on when off the ice. My carefully controlled self-restraint wavered under the onslaught of raw desire, and my cock jerked inside my pants.

Fuck.

The erratic emotions I believed I had tamed resurfaced with unrelenting force, fueled by her mere presence. Lewd images of what I wanted to do to her flooded my mind even as I fought the compulsion.

Jordan made small talk, and I absentmindedly answered her questions. Meanwhile, my mind was consumed with desire, and I shook uncontrollably with carnal need. Things were meant to be different this time around. She was supposed to crave me, but here I was, back at square one.

An ominous voice spoke from the depths of my subconscious, one I usually suppressed but could no longer do so in her presence. Its deafening growl echoed in my head. With a tightened grip on the wine glass, I battled the primal beast.

My efforts were in vain. Logic and reason held no sway over the wild monster inside me with only one objective—her. It gnawed at my skin, threatening to break free and claim the only woman I saw as mine.

“Xander?” Jordan prodded.

“What?” I asked throatily, barely masking the internal turmoil. I didn’t trust myself around that woman and was already wobbling on an imaginary tightrope. One misstep and my carefully measured self-restraint would snap.

“I said Henry is working late, so I’ll serve in an hour.”