chapter 13
[Angelica]
To my surprise, Jude and I skated for nearly ninety minutes before our legs grew tired, and the cold seeped in despite the heat of exertion. We took a break on wobbly legs and walked faster than our original stroll back to the main resort for lunch.
I was so hungry I ordered a cheeseburger despite knowing it would ruin my appetite for dinner. Jude had shared the evening’s menu with me. Beef tenderloin. A true feast.
Our conversation got a little heavy during our walk to the rink, so I stick to more casual topics while we eat lunch. Sports.
Jude loves hockey, despite his personal struggles on the ice. I prefer baseball, but I wouldn’t balk at tickets to a professional game on the ice.
We also cover music. Jude likes techno. Club music, as I call it. I’m a country girl despite having lived in a major city my entire life.
We don’t really agree on much, but the meal passes with ease . . . until we stand.
“Oh.” Jude clutches at his back. “Fuck.”
“Are you alright?” With sudden alarm, I rush to his side.
“Yeah, I just feel like I pinched something.” He stands taller, wincing as he attempts to stretch.
“You did fall on the ice pretty hard, and I fell on top of you.”
“Well, you can fall on me anytime you want.” He says it with such a straight face I can’t tell if he’s deadpanning. His tone is definitely not flirtatious, though.
“Maybe you need a massage.” Or a medic. Me. I could take a better look at him, but after this morning’s activity in the shower, where I was hoping to relieve the sexual tension humming inside me, I don’t think placing my hands on Jude is a good idea.
Especially since I’m certain he heard me, even though he’s politely ignoring the topic. The last thing he probably wants is a horny woman he caught helping herself to get off with visions of him touching her for real.
Then again, he didn’t seem to mind earlier when I kept my arm tucked into his for longer than necessary. And he held my hand most of the time we skated, but that was for his stability.
“I don’t think I can get a massage on such short notice.” His voice remains tight.
“What about the hot tub?” I suggest before thoughts of Jude in a sporty Speedo come to mind. Something similar to the boxer briefs he so casually wore last night.
“Great idea.” He grunts, clutching at his back again. “Am I getting old?” He grimaces. “Those words did not just come out of my mouth. I’m not even forty.”
“You aren’t even in your prime,” I tease. Something tells me when Jude hits his forties, he’s still going to be mighty fine to look at.
When he places his other hand on my lower back, I lead us from the dining room to our shared hotel room where we quickly change and head to the indoor pool area.
The last thing I want to do is show off my pale skin in the bleak winter. At least I opted for a one-piece for our dip, and I wait until the very last minute before slipping off the robe that covers me.
Jude has already lowered into the small, heated pool and crossed the space to the seat opposite me.
The hot tub probably holds up to ten, but I’m grateful it’s only Jude and me.
His icy eyes fixate on me as I glide into the pool, catching my breath on both the heat of the water and the comfort.
Lowering as quickly as I can, I dip down until only my shoulders crest the surface, keeping most of my body hidden beneath the gurgling bubbles.
“Feel good?” Jude’s voice drops, deep and almost dirty. Like he knows what I did this morning, although neither of us will bring up the subject. A secret best unspoken. We’re already pretending we’re dating. We can pretend this morning never happened as well.
“Yeah, it feels nice.” I swish my arms along the surface and Jude tips back his head. The rumbling of the water is the only sound between us for several minutes.
“There the love birds are.” The older male voice pops our solitude, and I spin, catching a sight I don’t think I can scrub from my brain.
Walt, in a speedo.
Quickly, I glance away, catching on Jude’s eyes, which are glaring at Walt behind me. As Walt helps himself into the hot tub, he slips in a little too close for my comfort. Surprisingly, Jude rushes across the pool, wraps his arm around my back, and tugs me toward him.
We almost knock heads. “What the . . .”
He drags me across the small pool, returning to his seated position, and spinning me so I sit on his lap.
Thankfully, Walt’s wife enters the area, and I’m grateful there will be safety in two couples in the pool, not just me and two men.
I watch as Walt’s wife steps into the hot tub, while Walt keeps his eyes on Jude and me.
Jude spreads his legs, and my backside drops between his thighs. His arm remains around my belly, and he dips his head into my neck. He brushes his lips below my ear.
“Don’t look at him.” He isn’t threatening me as much as warning me. Against Walt.
I’d like to say I’m not afraid of the big and bad who thinks he’s a wolf, but I don’t argue and twist my neck so I can look at Jude better over my shoulder.
“Forgive me,” he mutters, before his lips brush against mine. The swipe is nothing more than a whisper. The light dusting of the first snowfall.
Then, Jude releases my waist and slides his hand up my back. With my hair piled on top of my head so it doesn’t get wet, he easily cups my nape and brings our mouths together again.
The initial taste is a sip, although a hearty one. Jude draws my lower lip between his and leans away, dragging out the kiss. But then I’m cupping the side of his face, and his mouth opens wider, taking more from me. I tilt my head, deepening the connection.
My body is on fire, and it is not because of the bubbling water around me.
My heart races. My clit pulses. I’d give anything to spin and straddle Jude’s lap, but at the same time, this kiss is perfection.
His fingers squeeze the back of my neck.
His other hand is on my thigh beneath the water.
My palm is against the stubble on his jaw.
And his mouth . . . holy Christmas trees, Jude kisses like he has all day. Like this is all he wants to do for the next hour or two or five.
When he slips his tongue forward, gently tracing along the seam of my lips, like asking permission to enter, I greedily open, meeting him halfway, instantly enjoying the swirl and twirl, like the way chocolate and mint melt together.
Our lips tangle. The kiss deepens.
“Ah-hmm.” The throat clearing is like a sharp punctuation on the moment, and quickly Jude and I break apart. My face heats for a new reason.
I was just kissing Jude Ashford in front of his top board member.
With my mouth still tingling, the impression of his on mine lingering, my lips are certain to be swollen and red. When I remove my hand from Jude’s face, I’m afraid to meet his eyes. Afraid to see I’ve had no effect on him when I’m suddenly all twisted up inside.
Instead, I spin in the direction of Walt and his wife, but I don’t look at them either. Guilt collides with the rush of arousal. I’m almost as bad as Beau and Belle, making out at the Thanksgiving dinner table.
Only this isn’t real. Jude apologized before he even kissed me. Like he knew it wasn’t right, but he had to do the wrong.
Still, his arm wraps around my waist again, and he tugs me back, bringing me against his chest again. He surprises me further by pressing his lips to my temple and lingering there while whispering, “Thank you.”
My gaze briefly connects with Walt’s wife. When I glance away from her, the weight of Walt’s attention presses on the other side of my head.
All four of us remain silent for a few minutes, and I’m hyper aware of Jude’s fingers tickling up and down my arm underneath the surface of the bubbling water.
When he places another kiss on my shoulder, Walt’s wife asks me what we did today, as if determined to distract us from another mini-make out session.
I tell her about ice skating.
She tells me how they went shopping.
And all the while Jude’s fingers dance up the side of my arm and then back down to the crease of my elbow. He drops an occasional kiss on my shoulder to further rile me.
While small talk volleys across the small pool, my nipples are hard, and my center clenches.
My flesh is goose-bumped despite the heat of the water, and the effect of our kiss on Jude is apparent as his thickness is trapped against my backside because I remain seated between this spread thighs. He’s long and hard and very erect.
Try as I might to focus on Walt’s wife, I fail at recalling her name.
Hell, I struggle as well to remember my own.
Because Jude continues his tender assault with soft kisses to the side of my neck or another swipe of those fingers down my arm to my wrist to link our hands together.
He even brings our collective grip up to his mouth once to delicately scrape his teeth over my knuckles.
I watch the entire display with bated breath.
I’m a roaring inferno of rising hormones, and I’m going to strangle Jude the second this couple leaves us alone.
Or kiss him again.
The jury is still out on this one.
One conviction that’s firm is the pressure of Walt watching us, and I start to wonder what game Jude is playing with this other couple present.
Eventually, Jude twists my head to give me one more soft kiss, and then he hops out of the hot tub, taking a seat on the thick edge directly behind me. My gaze follows his retreat, and my view is of him in sporty European trunks that outline every detail of his length and girth.
He leans forward one more time, cups my jaw again, and brings his mouth close to mine. “Getting a good look?”
I don’t answer. I can’t find words. I try to hold Jude’s gaze. I really, really try, but my eyes dip, catching another sneaky peek at that solid bulge, angled sideways because that is the only way his dick won’t burst out the top of his trunks.
Placing his hands on my shoulders, Jude chuckles and spins me to face the other couple. I still cannot meet their eyes.
Jude massages my shoulders and neck, but the tension coming off me is too great to relieve. His touch is only making matters worse.
“Walt, you probably shouldn’t be in the pool too long with your high blood pressure,” Jude warns, digging his thumb along my nape. I need to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent moaning.
“And you have a heart condition,” Walt counters, glaring over my head at Jude behind me. “A hot tub isn’t good for you either.”
“My heart is as strong as ever. Plus, I have Angelica to take care of me.” He cups the back of my neck and runs his thumb up the side, pausing as if feeling for my pulse, which is rapid.
Just what is he doing to me?
“And you have Sandy to take care of you.” At the mention of her name, Walt’s wife seems to pop from a daydream, most likely of the man behind me and what he’s hardly hiding in his saturated swim briefs. She shakes her head and glances at her husband.
“Oh my. Jude is correct. We need to get out of here, Walty. We’ve been in here long enough.” She lifts her hands, holding her palms toward us. “My fingers are already raisins.”
Walt glances at what must be a waterproof watch on his wrist. “We have forty-five minutes before cocktails, Jude,” he warns.
“Plenty of time to get things done,” Jude counters.
I close my eyes. No doubt this is a sparring match filled with sexual undertones meant to build the impression Jude and I are together. Like together.
The thought is a good reminder of what we truly are, and where I really stand, or rather sit, with Jude.
Pretend.
As Walt and his wife exit the pool, I watch him unfortunately not assist his wife and she stumbles.
I rush forward to assist her, but she finds her footing before my help is necessary.
They grab their towels, do a hasty swipe over their wet skin, and cover themselves in robes before exiting the pool area.
When they leave, I spin and shove water at Jude.
“Hey.” He laughs, the sound strange as it echoes off the fake boulders around us. He lifts his hand as if that will shield him from the onslaught of water.
“That was so mean,” I mutter, sending another wave in his direction.
Jude is fast to react, reentering the hot tub and capturing my wrists, tugging my hands behind my back, which brings my front flush against his.
The weight of his dick wedges between us, although it has softened a little bit.
However, my nipples could cut glass, and Jude glances down at where my small breasts flatten against his firm pecs.
Slowly, he lifts his head. “Just tell me one thing. How long would it have taken to get you off, if I’d really touched you?”
My mouth falls open.
“Longer or shorter than that narrator this morning?”
“Oh my God, I knew you heard me.”
“A little difficult to miss when my name was coming out of your mouth . . . while you were coming.”
I close my eyes, wanting to die a million deaths, and willing to let this hot tub drown me. Only I feel Jude lean closer to me, the scruff on his jaw gently brushing against my cheek.
“The next time you want to come with my name on your sweet lips, it better be my hands between those lush thighs and my fingers against that—”
My mouth crashes against his to shut him up. I can’t listen to him tell me what he’d do, like a seductive narrator, or I’ll be making a mess right here in this pool.
The kiss isn’t pretty. Our lips coming together a second time is harsher than our earlier connection. His tongue is an invasion. His mouth pillaging before he abruptly pulls away.
“Like Walt said, we only have forty-five minutes until cocktails, and I definitely need a shower. A cold one.” He tilts his head. “Unless you want to join me.”
Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. That’s a proposition if I’ve ever heard one, and as much as my body is screaming, yes, yes, yes, my heart is saying ho, ho, hold the phone.
When I don’t answer Jude, he releases my wrists and steps back while blatantly glancing down at my chest. As we’re both standing, from the waist up we are exposed to one another, and he can’t miss the sharpness of my nipples poking my wet swimsuit.
He bites his lower lip again. The white of his teeth visible as he hums, “That’s what I thought.”
Then the arrogant man steps around me and exits the pool. I spin and get another full look at his complete package as he proudly stands on the pool’s edge.
My body weeps, but my head knows I’ve done the right thing.
Sometimes, it sucks to be on the good girl list.