Infinite Cashback System

Chapter 381: 381 | Obviously

The notification dimmed in Jordan’s hand as Chloe called from the bathroom, her voice cutting through the suite’s expensive silence with the casual command of someone who knew he would obey.

"Get in here."

Jordan glanced at Kumiko sprawled across the king bed, her pink sundress riding up and her sequined Minnie ears still clinging to one twin tail at a defiant angle. Detective Blueberry had fallen from her grip and landed face-down on the carpet like a crime scene victim awaiting chalk outline. Her breathing was deep and rhythmic, the kind of unconscious that nothing short of an air horn could penetrate.

The bathroom doorway framed Chloe in steam and golden light. She had stripped to her underwear, the black lace set Jordan recognized from Thursday morning when she had modeled four different options before deciding this one made her look like she was trying too hard but succeeding anyway. Her blue hair streak caught moisture from the air and went darker, clinging to her neck in a way that made Jordan’s mouth go dry.

"The tub fits four people," Chloe said, testing the water with two fingers. "Get in."

Jordan moved before his brain finished processing the command. His henley hit the floor in a smooth pull over his head. The bruise on his shoulder from Maya’s last combination had deepened to purple with yellow edges that looked worse than it felt, and Chloe’s eyes tracked to it with the clinical assessment of someone cataloging damage for later reference.

His jeans followed. Boxer briefs stayed on for approximately three seconds before Chloe’s flat stare communicated that keeping them was both pointless and insulting to her intelligence.

The tub was deep enough that standing in it would put water to mid-thigh, and the jets built into the sides suggested someone had invested serious money into making soaking an Olympic sport. Steam rose in columns that caught the bathroom’s recessed lighting and turned the air into something thick and golden.

Chloe stepped in first. Her movements were precise and calculated, testing depth and temperature with the same methodical approach she brought to everything from spreadsheets to intimacy. The water climbed her calves, her thighs, higher, until she stood in the center with water lapping just below her navel and her wet hair plastered against her shoulders.

She crooked one finger at Jordan.

He climbed in. The heat hit immediately, sinking into muscles that had spent eleven hours walking concrete and carrying a four-year-old on his shoulders through crowded pathways. His body protested the temperature for approximately four seconds before surrendering completely.

Chloe turned to face him. Her blue contacts had been removed at some point Jordan had not witnessed, leaving her natural brown eyes exposed in a way that felt more intimate than the fact that they were both naked. Without the colored lenses she looked younger, softer, like the girl who had sat across from him at The Ivy six weeks ago wearing sunglasses and a mask and calculating how much money she could extract before he figured out who she was.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the tub’s built-in bench.

Jordan sat. The jets pulsed against his lower back with enough pressure to work knots loose that he had not realized existed. Chloe moved through the water with liquid grace, her hips swaying in the current created by her movement, and Jordan watched with the focused attention of someone who understood that looking away would constitute a crime against his own future.

She settled into his lap with her back to his chest, her weight redistributing across his thighs in a way that sent immediate, predictable signals to parts of his anatomy that had very strong opinions about naked Chloe in close proximity. Her head found the hollow beneath his jaw and stayed there, her hair spreading across his shoulder in a dark curtain shot through with that electric blue streak that had become as familiar as his own reflection.

"Your heart’s racing," she said.

"Yeah."

"Good."

Her hands found his where they rested on the tub’s edge and moved them with deliberate intent, placing his palms on her stomach just below her ribs. The skin there was soft and warm and slightly damp from condensation, and Jordan felt the subtle movement of her breathing expand and contract beneath his touch.

They stayed like that for thirty seconds that stretched into something elastic and suspended. The jets continued their rhythmic pulse. Steam rose in curtains that made the bathroom feel like its own separate universe, disconnected from the suite and the park and the world that existed beyond these walls.

Chloe shifted. The movement was small but deliberate, turning in his lap until she faced him with her legs folding on either side of his hips and her chest pressed against his. Water sloshed against the tub’s rim and spilled over the edge in a small wave that soaked the bath mat.

Her eyes found his. Brown and direct and carrying the weight of someone who had made this choice with full awareness of every variable and consequence.

"I love you," Chloe said.

"I know," he said, because Han Solo had survived worse situations with worse lines.

Chloe’s mouth twitched. "That’s the best you’ve got?"

"I love you too. Obviously."

"Obviously," she repeated, and her fingers threaded through his hair with enough pressure to tilt his head back and expose his throat. "You spent four thousand dollars on a hotel room so I could sleep in a bed that doesn’t make my back hurt."

"The System paid me back."

Her lips found his jaw, trailing along the bone with soft pressure that sent electricity down his spine and pooled low in his stomach. "You would have done it anyways."

Jordan’s hands moved of their own volition, sliding up from her stomach to her ribs and higher, cupping the weight of her breasts with reverent attention. They fit his palms perfectly, soft and warm and topped with nipples that had already hardened from the temperature shift between air and water. Chloe made a sound low in her throat, something between a sigh and a moan, and pressed into his touch with the urgency of someone who had been waiting for permission.

"Fuck," Jordan said, because vocabulary had abandoned him somewhere between her confession and the feeling of her skin beneath his fingers.

Chloe kissed him. The contact was soft at first, exploratory, her lips moving against his with the careful attention of someone mapping familiar territory that still held surprises. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth and he opened for her, tasting toothpaste and the faint sweetness of crème brûlée from three hours ago.

The kiss deepened. Chloe’s fingers tightened in his hair and tugged with enough force to make his scalp tingle and his cock throb where it pressed between them, trapped between her stomach and his. She rocked against him with deliberate pressure, grinding down in slow circles that made coherent thought disintegrate into static and need.

Jordan squeezed her breasts and felt her gasp into his mouth. Her nipples pressed against his palms like small stones warmed by sunlight, and when he rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers she broke the kiss with a sharp inhale that turned into a breathy "Ah..." that echoed off the bathroom tiles.

"Sensitive?" Jordan asked, and Chloe’s eyes opened halfway to deliver a look that promised retribution.

"Shut up."

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