Sinfully Mine/ A Jordan Knight Fanfic (Mature Contén 18+)

11

Pad Thai smells even better when you don't have to share it.

I settle the takeout container on my lap and reach for a fork. Sweatpants, a creepy marathon of Ghost Adventures, and the apartment to myself equals heaven after today.

My phone buzzes with a text message from Callie. 'Sure u don't wanna come?'

She and Emily are out for dinner and a movie tonight. They begged me to come along, but I need some alone-time to recover from this crazy week. '

'I'm good. Promise. Have fun!'

I shut off my phone and try to relax. After our 'moment' in his office, I didn't see Jordan for the rest of the day. I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that. He must have been pulled in a million different directions, thanks to Shauna's betrayal. The task of finding out how much information she stole and shared would be a long one. Then came cleaning up any mess it caused.

If I was that back-stabber Prescott, I'd be pretty nervous right about now.

I glance down. I can feel the imprint of his hand in mine, burning with tension. The stress of the day opened up emotions that he normally wouldn't share, I'm sure. He's probably kicking himself for showing vulnerability in front of me. Well, as much as a man like Jordan ever regrets anything.

I don't know how to feel about him. He's a man, but he's an enigma, too. It's hard to sort rumor from fact when I don't know enough about him to do so.

So, I'll shove pad Thai in my face until I figure it out.

There's a knock on the door just as I crack the top to my take out container. I set the food aside and rise, realizing there are no little packets of pepper sauce in my bag. The delivery guy must have realized it too, and come back.

I crack the door until it pulls on the security chain.

It's not the delivery guy.

This man is wearing a black suit with a cap on his head. He's old enough to be my father, but holds himself like second-hand royalty.

"Ms. Evans?" His voice is crisp, polite.

"Yes." I think I'm about to be pranked.

He offers something through the opening. It's a card envelope. "I'll be waiting for you outside, madam."

Quickly, I shut the door and rip open the envelope. The Knight symbol graces the front.

A keycard tumbles out into my hand.

The penthouse key.

No more games. I want you, Juliet. This is the last time that I'll try. Come to me.

Come to me? Oh my God. I've been thinking about him all day, in a way that's different than before. I want to see beneath his exterior, to the layers that really make up Jordan Knight.

But I also want the hot, dirty sex. I want it all.

It's dangerous—playing with fire. He can consume me completely if I allow it. I no longer feel like just some random intern to him. It's silly, but the sense that there's something more to us won't leave me alone.

I won't know unless I take a risk. Unless I go to him.

I put my food away and head to my room. It feels surreal as I dig through my closet looking for something to wear. There's nothing good, except the dress he's already seen me in.

Why am I doing this?

I want him. Maybe even need him.

But not looking like this. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is a mess, my old clothes hang baggy. Sweatpants are fine for staying in on a Friday night, but I can't go to the penthouse like this.

I wonder if I should raid Callie's closet for another knock-'em-dead outfit like the one I was wearing the night Jordan and I first met. But I don't want to play a role again. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to go as myself.

Not the honeytrap sex kitten. Not the intern.

Me.

Pulling out a pair of my best jeans, I don them along with a shimmery olive green blouse. I smooth my hair with some gel and apply lip gloss. A little mascara. That's it. I grab my jacket and bag, and head down to the limo waiting outside.

The driver opens the door for me, and I slide inside. My nerves are growing, and I go back and forth over my decision the entire ride to the Knight. I barely notice the luxury of the limousine, or the glass of champagne on the table next to my seat. I ignore the lights of the city as we drive smoothly through the streets.

This is it. No turning back.

"We're here, miss." I look up.

We've pulled up outside the hotel. I've been so deep in my own indecision, I didn't even notice the stop. "Thank you." I scramble out. I've entered the hotel dozens of times, but now it's different. As the doorman holds the glass door open, I realize, I'm not an intern tonight.

I'm just another guest, someone who can live a fantasy.

If I choose.

Glancing around as I walk to the elevators, I pray that I won't see anyone who might recognize me. I don't, and gratefully let the elevator swallow me. I go up... up, up, and my nerves grow.

I don't want to be someone else.

But if I do this, if I get more deeply involved with Jordan, will it change me? How will I ever go back to the person I was?

It's not just about my career, but my heart.

The elevator opens but I hold the door, uncertain if I should get out – or head right back downstairs and home again. I'm not naïve, I know myself well enough to be aware of how deeply I come to care about people.

I can't give my body to him without offering up my feelings too. And giving him that power, it scares me a little.

But what if I never know for sure?

With stiff legs, I walk to the penthouse door and reach for the key card. One slip of plastic, yet it's so very heavy in my palm.

It's risky and I might pay for it later. I take a deep breath. Close my eyes. And decide.