Latte Girl by Katia Rose

Author:Katia Rose [Rose, Katia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

12

Casa Del Jordan

Hailey

“Welcome to the Casa Del Jordan.”

I step through the door and into the dark entrance of Jordan’s apartment.

We’re both still panting from the trip between the bus stop and his building, which involved a lot of making out, and the walk up the stairs to his floor, which also involved a lot of making out. I’m about ready to just tear myself out of my own clothes, right here in the doorway.

He flicks on the light switch and I stop unbuttoning my coat, forgetting all about the lust raging in me for a second as I let out a gasp.

“You live here?”

I’m staring into a massive loft apartment dominated by panelled windows so huge I feel like I’m being swallowed up by the view of the city’s twinkling lights. The exposed bricks walls seem to stretch for miles above our heads, and as I step farther into the room, my footsteps echo on the dark wooden planks that make up the floor. The place seems newly renovated; I can smell traces of sawdust and paint.

And money. Everything reeks of a whole lot of money.

“What are you, the CEO?” I demand.

Jordan tosses his pea coat onto the rack by the door.

“Just a junior manager,” he says derisively, “with a powerful father who cares a lot about appearances.”

I wander around the room, still gaping. The kitchen is all stainless steel, with a layout more spacious than my entire living room.

“Not a fan of furniture?” I ask.

The rest of the room is empty, save for a nightstand, a bed set up directly on the floor, and a suede couch with a small coffee table in front of it.

“Just didn’t see the point in decorating,” he tells me. “This place doesn’t really feel like home.”

He moves past me to stand in front of one of the towering windows. I hesitate, then walk over to stand behind him. I run my hands up his arms and feel him draw in a breath.

“You really have some family issues, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

I wait, giving him a chance to explain. He just stares out the window for awhile as I continue to stroke his arms. He reaches up to wrap a hand around mine.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I kind of killed the mood.”

“You should be,” I joke. “I was expecting a good time, and now I have to stand here and listen to all your rich boy problems.”

In one single motion, he whips around to face me, grabs me by the shoulders, and pushes me to the window so that he’s holding me pinned against the glass.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to be polite?” he snarls, but the corner of his mouth twists up into a grin.

I can already feel a pressure building between my legs.

“Nope,” I say, my voice catching. “I’m as bad as they come.”

He grabs one of my wrists and fixes my arm above my head.

“I hope so,” he murmurs, before pressing his lips to my neck.

I moan as he moves

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