29. Romy
29
romy
L et’s just say those romantasy books make sharing a horse seem so much more erotic because that was the most uncomfortable ride I’d ever been on. It couldn’t have been enjoyable for Bronte either.
By the time we reached the ranch, the sun was barely hovering over the Cascade Range. Jude urged me to go inside so we could get a better look at my injuries, but I insisted he take care of the horses first. I watched as he untacked and examined Winnie’s hoof, rebooting it and shooting a text to Chuck that we were back.
“The farrier will be here tomorrow,” he told me, repocketing his phone.
I nodded.
Jude kept stealing concerned glances. I didn’t blame him. I was unusually quiet, but I was drained. I hadn’t realized how much adrenaline I used until it evaporated, leaving me feeling heavy and droopy.
We climbed into his truck and drove the short distance around the property to Jude’s. Relief flooded me when I saw the timed porch lights illuminating the little house. Home. That’s what it felt like, and my heart squeezed. I wanted it to be my home. With Jude.
“Let me get those,” Jude offered, crouching down in front of me when we entered the front door.
I lifted my foot, letting Jude pry off one boot then the other, his fingers lingering at each ankle, skimming over my arches as if checking for unseen injury.
I was fine. I had to be.
“Doing okay, honey?”
I smiled softly down at him, stepping in between his knees. Crouched in front of me—his hands gripping the back of my thighs—his chin was at sternum level.
“I’m doing okay.” I ran my palm along his rugged jaw, the scrape of his scruff sending tingles up my arm.
He rested his head on my breasts, breathing me in, holding me to him.
I took off his hat, reaching over to hang it on the coat-tree before running my fingers through his dark locks.
I was safe.
He was safe.
I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this. And if it meant staying silent for now, that’s what I’d do. At least until I figured something else out.
“Let’s take care of you.” His voice rumbled through my rib cage, spreading warmth through my chest and into my belly.
When was the last time I let someone take care of me? Maybe Hazel when I was a child? I’d gotten used to taking care of myself. Because I felt as though I could only depend on myself.
But I could let Jude care for me. Isn’t that part of trusting? Trusting someone enough that you could lean on them?
Jude’s hands and eyes never left me as he stood. “Come on.”
He kicked off his own boots and led me into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he hit the dial to heat up the shower. Washcloth in hand, he ran it under the sink faucet. He gently started to blot the blood away from my cheek, and I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror. It didn’t look as bad as I thought it would. The shallow scrape was red and puffy and stung when he touched it, but it would probably just leave a bruise.
“Sorry,” he whispered when I let out a hiss between my teeth.
“It’s all right. I’ll clean it up in the shower.”
“Okay.” Jude reached into the medicine cabinet, pulling out the antibiotic ointment. “I’ll leave this out for after the shower. Steaks all right for dinner?”
“Sounds delicious. Jude …”
He stalled at the door. His eyes were soft, but his brows were pinched.
I wanted him to stay. I didn’t want him to leave me alone in the bathroom. I wasn’t ready to be left alone.
“Can you help me with my shirt?”
His jaw flexed. Pausing. Considering. He gave a jerky nod.
Stepping back to me, I raised my one good arm, his fingertips grazing my stomach as he wrapped them around the hem of my shirt. He lifted it to help me pull my arm out, then over my head until he could slip it off my sore shoulder.
We stood there looking at each other, the air thickening with steam. The way he was staring at me felt as though every pore was opening, my bronchial tubes expanding with each breath.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted his hands on me. I needed him to ground me. I needed everything to be okay, to wash away the feeling that things were far from it.
I reached out to him, running my hand down his chest, feeling every dip, plane, and ridge of his pecs and abdominals under his T-shirt. I wanted the firmness and weight of him on me. Anything to pull me back down to earth and tether me here. My fingers grazed his belt buckle. I gripped it, drawing him to me.
“Romy.” His voice almost sounded pained, as if he was warring with himself. His fingers flexed at his side.
“I need you.” I would beg for him if I had to, anything to soothe this ache that was blooming.
He was so close, I could feel how hard he was. How much he wanted me pressed into my lower stomach. But he still hadn’t touched me. Our heavy breaths and the stream of water hitting the tub made my ears ring.
“Touch me. Please. ”
As if he had never touched me before, he tentatively reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from my temple. He ran his hand down my braid until he reached the band, pulling it out. He dropped it on the ground, and I didn’t care. Not once did his eyes leave mine while his fingers ran through the plait until my hair hung loose around my shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful.” He said it in a whisper, but it was louder than the water and our panting combined.
The growing need between us. All the patience. The years we missed. The hesitancy to trust someone with my heart. It didn’t matter in this moment.
Moisture coated us. The back of his hand trailed down my bare arms, causing me to shiver.
“Cold?”
I shook my head. I was far from it. I was on fire.
Leaning down, he rested his forehead on mine. I closed my eyes, zeroing in on his scent, the need I couldn’t resist, the desire coiling between us, the feeling that my heart would burst from my chest. His nose nudged mine. I tilted my face up to his. His fingers laced with mine, and I wanted to hold on to him forever. Our breaths mingled, coasting across our lips. I parted my mouth, silently urging him to kiss me. But he didn’t.
He stepped into me, and there was nowhere to go but the counter. As if I weighed nothing, he threw his arm around my waist and hoisted me up onto it. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking my heels behind him to press him to me. He thrust gently, his erection rubbing against my core.
I pushed up his shirt hem, and he reached a hand behind him, gripping his collar to pull it over his head. I bit my lip seeing him half bare. His rigid lats. His firm pecs and his defined eight-pack. The man was a chiseled god. I couldn’t help but run my fingers over him. Marveling. His groan came out a near purr.
Reaching my good hand behind me, I popped the clasps on my bra, letting the straps slip down my arms. Jude’s gaze felt like a caress, stroking down my throat to my collarbone, to my breasts as my bra slid down my arms. My nipples hardened as if he were touching them.
It was his turn to suck in his lip. I wanted not just his eyes and his hands; I wanted his mouth.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, bringing his head toward me. Wanting his mouth on me so badly. Tasting every part of me until I let go. Until I let my heart fall.
Jude tossed my bra to the floor. He bent down, leaning me back until my head rested against the foggy mirror. His soft, pillowy lips pressed against my chest. The moisture of his mouth left a shivering trail across my skin as he traveled down between my breasts. I arched toward him.
“What do you want, honey?” he asked, his lips brushing across the inside curve of my breast.
“Your mouth.” I could barely voice more than those two words.
“Want me to suck your stiff, little nipple into my mouth?”
“Yes.”
Jude’s tongue darted out, tracing the areola of one nipple before turning to the other to do the same. It wasn’t enough. It was a tease. I wanted him to draw me into his mouth. He did it again, each time his tongue nearing the peak.
“Jude, please.”
He didn’t wait for me to beg more, his mouth now covering over the hard tip. His tongue flicking it just as he did my clit when he went down on me in his truck. Electric pulses zinged right to that bundle of nerves with each swirl of his tongue. His teeth lightly clutched the stiffened bud, pulling it and making me gasp. I held his head to me, my body arching into him. He thrust against my core. And I wanted more. I needed more.
He must have recognized my silent plea because he left my breasts, trailing his mouth down my sternum, down the dip of my stomach until he reached the button of my jeans.
“These have to fucking go.” He peeked up at me from where he hovered over my waistband.
I nodded my head against the mirror. Desperate for him. I was rewarded with his lopsided grin. He made my stomach flutter every time he gave me that look, and I could feel myself falling.
Jude straightened, assisting me off the counter, then helping me out of my pants, taking my panties with them, sliding them down. He never stopped touching me, as if he needed the contact as much as I did. His fingertips feathered along the back of my thighs while he helped me step out of my jeans, causing my flesh to pucker. Straightening, his heated gaze strummed up my body.
Licking my bottom lip, I bit down to keep from moaning. I reached for him, taking the time to unbuckle his belt, popping the button and unzipping his jeans. His bulge strained against his boxers. My fingers hooked into his boxer briefs, and I bent down, slowly pulling them down his thick, muscular legs. His hardened cock sprung free, jutting out, begging me to touch it. A bead of precum gleamed at the head, inviting me to lap it up. My tongue darted out, but he tipped my chin up to look at him.
“Not yet, greedy girl. There will be time for that,” he said gruffly. “Right now, I want to take care of you.”
The warmth of his words spread like lava, pooling in my center.
He took my hand, helping me to stand. He walked backward, never taking his eyes off me, drawing us toward the shower. He pulled back the curtain, more steam billowing around us, beading on our naked bodies. He didn’t let me go, making sure we both stepped into the tub safely.
The warm stream hit us, drenched us. Rivulets of water ran down our chests.
And he did exactly as he said. He took care of me.
His hands never left me. Running them through my hair to wet it before lathering it with shampoo and conditioner. Argan oil and coconut saturating the room. He pumped body wash into a washcloth before running it over my body, paying special attention to my breasts. They felt so heavy and tender. My nipples stiffened with each pass of the terry cloth. He rubbed the washcloth between my legs, causing me to twitch and buck my hips. I wanted him to stay there, but he didn’t, turning me under the showerhead to rinse.
“Your turn, honey.” He handed me the washcloth. Desire ran over me like the stream of water. Gripping the washcloth over his cock, I slowly twisted and pulled while he jerked in my grasp. I liked watching this man unravel for me.
“ Romy ,” he growled.
His hand paused my ministrations, and I smiled up at him, pleased that I could make his control slip.
We were running low on hot water, but my skin was burning.
“Jude, I want you.”
“You have me.”
I wrapped my hand around his neck, drawing him down to me. He still hadn’t kissed me. I could barely stand it. I understood his hesitancy. It was like if he did, it would make this all too real for him, and I had already broken his heart once. But it was real for me, too, and I wanted to show him just how real it was. I didn’t want to break his heart again.
I pressed up on my tiptoes, darting my tongue out to trace his bottom lip. It was the switch I was needing—he was needing. He gathered me in his arms, pressing our wet bodies together, his lips crushing into mine. His cock slipped closer to where I needed it. His tongue licked along the seam of my mouth. I opened for him, and our tongues stroked and explored. I hitched my leg up, putting my foot on the shower shelf. I gripped his length, notching it at my entrance.
He stopped, breaking our kiss. “Not yet. The water is getting cold. Let’s get out.”
“ Jude ,” I whined. We were so close.
He chuckled, turning off the shower. “Come on.”
He pulled the towels off the rack, draping me in one before opening the curtain. We dried ourselves off and rehung the towels.
“Come here.” He gripped my waist and lifted me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his middle.
I kissed him every step he took on the way to the bedroom. My hair was still wet and dripping down my back, but I didn’t care as his eyes burned into me while he carefully and deliberately laid me down on the bed.