Chapter 23 #3
‘If this . . .’ he started to say, before she took his lips with hers again, pressing her chest against his desperately.
‘Hannah,’ he tried again, a hand at the nape of her neck, moving her head back a little so he could look her in the eye.
‘If this isn’t what you really want, I have to go.
I have to go now. I can’t . . .’ He looked briefly agonised as he struggled for words, and Hannah cupped his jaw with her right hand, steadying him.
‘I can’t do this if you’re going to wish we hadn’t tomorrow,’ he said.
‘I want you so fucking much, but it will kill me to hear you say this was a mistake. I won’t be able to live with you regretting me. ’
‘I’ve never regretted you,’ she said with feeling, pulling him closer and kissing him fiercely.
She realised it was the truth. Despite the years of wounded silence that lay between them – for all the pain he’d caused her – she’d never wished she hadn’t known him.
Even at her lowest, her angriest, her most bitter, she wouldn’t have traded the best times they’d had to avoid the worst.
‘Are you sure?’ he murmured into her ear, the feel of his breath on her neck eliciting a full-body shiver Hannah almost couldn’t bear.
The raw vulnerability in his tone made her heart ache, and she knew the question went deep; that it applied beyond what was happening between them tonight.
She finally recognised that her own reticence had left him uncertain.
Insecure. Maybe for far longer than she could have imagined.
She’d spent so long thinking of Jude as brilliant, as above her; so long focused on the inevitability of his leaving, that she’d forgotten he was a person like any other.
He was a genius, yes, but not a robot. He was a smart, successful, almost sinfully hot man – but still the boy who’d brushed off his need for help on the first day of school; who’d made it clear he would rather be lost and liked by her than guided and pitied.
As if to answer his question, Hannah took the hem of her dress in her hands and pulled it up, over her head.
Off. Jude’s eyes widened at the expanse of skin suddenly on show, at the sight of her lilac lace bra.
She kissed him again, then yanked at his t-shirt until he shifted his arms to help her remove it.
His palms found her waist, then skimmed up her ribcage to cup her breasts through her underwear. ‘I need the words, Hannah,’ he said, his voice low. Demanding. It sent a fresh wave of need crashing through her.
‘I want you,’ she said urgently, the weight of the words seeming to lift from her body as she spoke them. The truth left her lighter. Freer. Floating. ‘I need you,’ she told him. ‘Stay with me.’
‘All you ever had to do was ask.’
He stood up, taking her with him, and she directed him to her bedroom, thanking the universe that she’d tidied it this morning.
In a flurry, they shed almost all that remained of their clothing, only to realise Hannah still had her clumpy DM sandals on.
They laughed until Jude pushed her back onto the bed, then took her left foot in his hands.
He undid the buckles on each of her shoes with careful precision, dropping them to the floor, then slowly kissed his way from Hannah’s ankles to the apex of her thighs.
She gasped and writhed as he teased her, eventually settling exactly where she wanted him.
She came with his name on her lips and her hands in his hair.
She pulled him into an embrace, wanting his full weight on her, needing him closer.
Jude stared down at her reverently, running his fingers through the mass of strawberry-blonde hair that was splayed beneath her on the pillow.
‘So pretty,’ he whispered. ‘Like all of you, always. You’ve haunted me, Hannah.
I haven’t – I couldn’t . . . never, with anyone else. ’
She didn’t question it. Didn’t need details or receipts. She just kissed him and said, ‘Please.’
He fumbled in the cupboard beside her bed and found what he was looking for.
The sound he made as he finally pushed inside her was almost savage; a sharp-edged, shameless groan that spoke of pure pleasure, intense relief.
It was so much better than Hannah had remembered; a kaleidoscope of colourful sensation that she’d only been able to imagine in monochrome.
It was perfect, searing bliss and she was out of control, beyond all reason.
She heard herself beg him for more, urge him not to stop; realised she was careering towards a cliff edge she hadn’t tumbled off in years.
‘With me,’ he said, winding her higher. Tighter.
‘Now,’ he panted into her ear. ‘Let me hear you.’
Hannah was powerless to resist or hold back. She felt tears squeeze from her closed eyes as release broke over her – over both of them – like thunder.
They lay side by side afterwards, turned towards one another.
Hannah wasn’t sure whether she should touch him; what it would mean if she did .
. . how she’d ever let go. Jude made the choice for her after a few seconds, pulling her against him so her face rested on his chest. So she could feel the beat of his heart through his skin.
She wanted to tell him something true: that she loved him, that she’d meant this. That it hadn’t been a mistake, even though she felt sure she’d never get over it.
Instead, with his arms still around her, she fell fast asleep.