She dismissed the thought instantly.

Jordan needed stability.

It was her job – her most important job – to provide it.

She lifted her tea to her lips and sipped it, enjoying the heat as it scalded her mouth.

But God, she missed him.

A shiver danced down her spine as she thought of Ra’if and wished, with every single cell in her body, that he was with her. That he was kissing her; touching her, holding her.

Her phone ringing beside her startled her out of her reverie, and tiny goose bumps lingered on her flesh when she saw Ra’if’s face on the screen. She swiped it quickly, her heart racing.

“Hello?”

“Can we talk?”

She frowned. “I guess that’s why I answered the phone.”

His laugh was soft and it made her gut twist painfully. She missed him. “I meant face to face. I’m downstairs.”

She leaped off the sofa so fast she almost spilled her tea. She cradled it in her palm as she crossed the room and looked through the window.

There he was, leaning indolently against the side of his car, looking far better than any one man had a right to look. His ankles were crossed, his eyes fixed on her apartment, he was both nonchalant and tense at once. It was snowing, but he appeared not to feel it.

“I need five minutes of your time,” he said, as though he thought she might be able to decline. To tell him to go away.

Not bloody likely.

“Come on up,” she heard herself say hoarsely.

He disconnected the call and kept his eyes on the window – on her – as he crossed the street. She groaned softly, her body weakened by needs that only Ra’if could answer.

“Shoot.” She crossed the flat and pressed the buzzer to open the security door and then wrenched her own door inwards. She was too impatient to wait for him. She moved out onto the landing, her arms crossed over her chest to stop from throwing herself at him bodily.

He took the stairs two at a time, his effortless athleticism on display, making her heart ache. His eyes seemed to glow.

She stared at him, waiting, her nerves stretching to breaking point.

“Hi,” she said finally.

He didn’t respond. He could only stare.

“Would you … come in.”

He nodded, following her into the apartment.

The sense of ‘home’ hit him like a sledge hammer. He ground his teeth together and spun around to face her. “This won’t take long.”

“That’s okay,” she was quick to reassure him, already dreading the moment when he would leave again. “I was just having a cup of tea. Can I get you anything?”

“Hot chocolate?” He teased and she grinned, but it was a nervous smile.

“Would you like one?”

“No, thanks. I came only to speak with you.”

“Is everything okay?”


Tags: Clare Connelly The Henderson Sisters Billionaire Romance