8. Romy
8
romy
H ere comes what I can only assume will be another restless night. This time in a room I never thought I’d return to.
The bedroom was different than it was twelve years ago. The king-size bed rearranged to face the window with a view into the dark trees. The plank floors carried into the bedroom. Beneath the white, down-covered bed was a blue, orange, and cream-colored Southwestern-style shag rug. My bare toes sunk into the plushness, and I just about groaned with pleasure. Throw pillows that matched the rug were the only other color in the room. Another set of steer horns hung over the bed; otherwise, the dove-gray walls were bare. The only things unchanged were a seven-drawer antique dresser and a round, lasso-framed mirror … and Jude’s scent.
It hit me like a cloud as I plunged into the comforter. Laundry soap, hay, and something fresh—like mint—enveloped me. It was comforting and disconcerting all in one breath. Never mind that the man it belonged to was sleeping in the other room.
He had been a complete gentleman, allowing me space to shower and get ready for bed. He gave me a quiet “Good night,” then went around to turn off the lights. I shut the door and stood against it, my palms flat against the wood, my heart pounding, wondering what would happen if I walked back out and straddled his lap on the couch. I melted to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest, and squeezed my eyes shut.
Twelve years, and memories of him beneath me still haunted me. It was nearly painful being in his presence now. It made me long for my best friend, but even after all these years, now knowing what it felt like to be with him, there was so much regret and grief. I suppose I never stopped wanting him, missing him, needing him. I just pushed it as far back into my heart as I could until I no longer ached for him.
I just needed to get through this and back to California.
Pulling myself off the floor, I curled up beneath the covers and it almost made it worse. It felt like I was wrapped up in him . Entangled in him. As if I were trapped in a tidal wave, spinning and suffocating if I didn’t break the surface.
I spun in my dreams, surrounded by his kisses, his fingers tracing every inch before digging into my hips. I felt as if I was begging for him, craving his touch, seeking a way to relieve the tension, wanting desperately to feel him against me.
But all I got was an open ocean of nothingness.
I awoke in the morning, tangled in the bedsheets, the early light breaking through the pine boughs. I still felt the thrumming pulse in my core. My nose was filled with his scent, my heartbeat pulsing between my thighs. It was a dream, but I was left wanting. Craving. Aching if I didn’t get relief. If I couldn’t let him touch me, at least I could pretend, even if only for a moment.
My hand skimmed the hem of my shirt, lifting it, my fingers gliding over my stomach, then up, cupping my breast until I felt the peak of my nipple. I pinched it hard, recalling how Jude pulled it between his teeth years ago. My fingertip made soft circles around the hardened tip, while my other hand slid down my stomach, past the waistband of my sleep shorts to slide through my slit.
I was soaked.
Jude.
He did this to me, and he hadn’t even touched me. It had only been a dream.
My finger dipped in, dragging the wetness up to my clit, and I nearly bucked off the bed when I touched the sensitive spot. While one hand rubbed slow circles around my nipple, my other hand caressed my clit. Light circles. My hips rocked with each pass, chasing my building arousal.
But it wasn’t enough. It just made me want something to fill me. To feel that added pressure, to touch that place deep inside me that made me explode.
Knowing Jude may be in the next room, imagining him hearing me while I masturbated to his memory, heightened my pleasure. Would he have to go to the shower so he could stroke his cock to my moaning?
I needed more.
My fingers pinched my nipple while one finger plunged inside, pumping, then gliding back up to circle my clit. Pump, glide, circle. Pump, glide, circle. My hips continued to rock. I could feel my orgasm reaching its precipice.
More.
“Jude.” His name came out on a breath. I bit my lip to keep from moaning it aloud.
Two fingers pushed in, pumping. I pinched my nipple again while I thrust my fingers as deep as I could go. My walls tightened. Blood rushed to my ears.
My mouth fell open on a pant, my hips continuing to roll while aftershocks racked my body. I squeezed my eyes shut, sliding my fingers out, giving my clit one last pass over. My body jerked.
I pulled my hand from my shorts, lying still while I caught my breath.
The house was silent. Did Jude hear me?
It had been a while since I brought myself to climax. I had always needed a toy to help get me there. Apparently, all I needed was a Jude sex dream, my fingers, and the risk of him hearing me come.
Then came a knock at the front door, and I just about flew off the bed.
I climbed up the driveway to the big house. Clinking weights and man grunts echoed from the garage.
Chuck came to the double-wide looking for me. My face was still hot when I greeted him at the door.
The blanket and pillow were stacked on the couch in the living room, and Jude was already gone. Chuck needed our help moving cattle from the north to the east pasture. Thinking all I would be doing was packing Hazel’s belongings and heading back to California, I hadn’t planned for riding. A year apart, Hazel and I had always shared clothes, so I proceeded to the garage to rummage through her boxes for boots and chaps.
The fourth bay garage door was up, allowing the morning sun to stream in. Jude was shirtless, his back muscles glistening and rolling as he repped out pull-ups.
He hadn’t seen me yet. I couldn’t move, mesmerized. His back muscles bulged and rippled. His bull tattoo came alive with each repetition.
How many was he going to do?
I stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he gracefully dropped back to his feet. He scooped up a towel hanging on the weight bench, drying his brow. Sweat dripped from the tips of his hair.
Oh, my God! Of course he has a perfectly chiseled six-pack. Or is that an eight-pack?
I could picture myself running my tongue down those sculpted abs right to that decadent V cutting toward the waistband of his workout shorts.
And then his glacial eyes collided with mine.
My cheeks burned crimson.
“Morning.” His voice sounded rough from sleep and breathless from exertion. It was damn sexy.
“Morning,” I called back, remembering to move. “Just getting some boots and chaps from Hazel’s things.” I threw a thumb over my shoulder. He was too sexy for his own good without his shirt on. An echo of a pulse from my early morning activity caused me to hurry over to the boxes. “Chuck asked for our help to move the cattle to the east pasture.”
The air shifted with his approaching footsteps. “Yeah, he told me. He left bacon and bagels in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself. I’m just finishing up here, then I’ll go clean up and meet you at the stables.”
“Uh-huh.” Don’t look at him.
He stepped behind me, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I leaned down to dig through a box of boots, and my ass brushed his leg.
Shit.
His hand went to my hip, and I straightened. It was like a heat wave washing over me. He was so close that his chest grazed my back when he breathed.
“You all right?” His words brushed hot and moist across the shell of my ear.
No, of course not, and your touch isn’t helping, I wanted to say.
“Yeah.” A lie.
I stepped away from his grasp and turned to him.
A big mistake because he was wearing that lopsided smirk. He knew I was full of shit.
“It’s okay to talk to me, Romy. This is a fucked-up situation. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, and we’re all dealing with the repercussions. You don’t have to face this alone.”
I exhaled, drawing myself away from my extremely inappropriate thoughts. “I know, I’m just still processing it.” I shook my head. Still dumbfounded. “It still doesn’t seem real, and none of it makes sense. I have no idea what Hazel wants me to find or what really happened.”
“Maybe a ride and some fresh mountain air will do us both some good.”
I nodded, then brightened. “Does Chuck still have Winnie?” I asked, remembering my favorite quarter horse. The mare was as sweet as honey.
Jude’s half smile turned into a real grin, and I couldn’t help but beam back at him. “I think he does.”
“This will be great, Jude. You’re right. Just what I need.” I swooped up the chaps with the boots and hustled into the big house to grab breakfast.
As I opened the door to the house, I looked over my shoulder to catch Jude still watching me. This time, his eyes had lowered to my ass, and that flush flashed hot again.