chapter 21
[Angelica]
We’ve watched two movies before this one, and within minutes of those shows, Jude spoiled the plot by predicting the outcomes.
Of course, the couple would end up together and experience their first kiss with only five minutes remaining in the film, but I wanted to enjoy the known without his interpretation.
Still, it was funny how easily he guessed the storyline correctly.
My head is pillowed at the far end of the sofa, and here we are tangled, but not tangled, sharing space like it had always been ours. Jude’s head is at the opposite end of the couch, his legs stretched and tucked around me. My feet are perched on his chest.
It is oddly intimate. Strangely comfortable.
And nothing like how he typically was. Jude, in his suits, crisp and self-contained, is always slightly removed.
This is different. This is him, relaxed and quiet, and letting me rest against him like it is completely normal.
I like it more than I mean to. I like him like this more than I should.
And it isn’t awkward. Not at all. Not until that scene comes on. Then suddenly, I am too aware of the shape of him beneath my heels, the quiet way he breathes, and the warm line of his thigh pressing against my side. The closeness that had felt safe now feels charged, and I don’t dare move.
A viewer couldn’t even see all the details of the couple’s bodies, but you knew from their movements and moans exactly what they were doing. Pressing my thighs together, I rub my knees against one another in the slightest motion, while Jude holds my feet captive in his hands.
“Easy there,” he chuckles, catching onto my not-so-subtle squirm. “Getting turned on?”
“Shut up,” I whimper, unable to look at him, while attempting to playfully kick at his chest.
Jude tightens his grip on my feet, pinning them against his firm pecs. “Is that what you want? A romp in a barn with a cowboy?”
“Who says ‘romp’?” I twist only my head to glance at him, while he tugs off a sock from one of my feet and lifts my bare toes toward his mouth.
“You won’t?” I shriek.
“Wouldn’t I?” He nips at my big toe. “Now tell me . . . a cowboy in a barn?”
How about a millionaire in my apartment? But I don’t dare mention it.
Jude tugs the other sock off my opposite foot and bites my other big toe.
“Gross.” I gag, while surprisingly aroused.
In a sudden shift, Jude crouched over me, and I’m on my back staring up at him. I choke out, “What are you doing?”
He presses pause on the remote without breaking his focus from me.
“You had a situation last weekend.” He arches one of his perfectly sculpted brows. “And you let an audiobook help you out.”
“A situation?” I choke. “Is that what people call it nowadays?” The urgent desire to get off, to release tension, to imagine what it would feel like to have his hands on me.
He tugs the blanket between us out of the way, then returns to all fours over me, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Now . . . you’re allowing a movie to work you up.” Those icy eyes of his are pure fire. Sparks practically fly out of them. The gleam is mesmerizing.
“When I’m right here.” His voice drops, low and arousing. “Let me be the one to give you what you need.”
“And what do I need?” In my head, I’m stronger than my voice conveys because I’m nearly hyperventilating with him over me. His expensive cologne is intoxicating. The temptation to kiss him is overwhelming.
“You tell me.” His gaze narrows in on the corner of my lip before shifting back to my eyes.
“You probably shouldn’t kiss me,” I warn, licking my lips.
Jude gently cups the front of my throat, and I swallow against the cuff of his palm. The icy touch is gone, and in its place is warmth that spreads around my neck like a comforting scarf.
“You don’t want me to kiss you?” Jude continues to stare at my lips, rolling his own like he’s holding them back from taking what they want.
“I don’t think you should kiss my mouth,” I clarify, swallowing again underneath his palm holding my neck. “Because I’ve been sick.”
While I feel so much better than I did, I unfortunately can’t seem to shut off the practical, medical side of my brain, which is whispering about lingering germs, while the other half is screaming for me to lift my head and take what I want from him.
Jude quickly removes his hand and kneels back. Concern instantly mars his edgy features. “You said you felt better.”
“I do feel better.” I swallow one more time. “Just not my mouth.”
Slowly, he leans forward, eyes locked on mine. “But I can kiss you in other places?”
I hold his gaze another second before slowly shrugging. Like the slowest shrug. More like a shoulder wink.
Jude’s hand is suddenly back on my throat, turning my head to expose the side of my neck. He runs his nose along my flesh, sending goosebumps across my skin. I shiver as the tip of his nose crests the edge of my ear.
“Are you giving me permission to kiss you anywhere I wish?” His voice is almost sinister while wildly seductive at the same time.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His mouth latches onto the side of my throat before the final S hisses from my tongue. He sucks long and deep, moving along my jugular like a vampire seeking his first bite.
I’ve read Twilight too many times.
“Tell me. Did the narrator of your book say I want to kiss you everywhere?” His voice drops to the perfect rugged tenor, and goosebumps break out on my flesh.
He shoves aside the loose collar of my pajama top and sucks on my collarbone. His tongue is a gentle lash and slow lick, and my hips move of their own accord, needing connection or friction or just something more.
“Oh God,” I whimper, my entire body lighting up with anticipation. We probably shouldn’t be doing this. I’ve been sick. He isn’t my boyfriend. But every cell in my body wants to feel his touch, experience his caress.
He works down my chest. “Did your narrator say show me those pretty tits. I want them in my mouth. Swirl my tongue over your tight nipples.” He unbuttons the large buttons on my silky pajama shirt as he talks, and all thoughts fly out of my head, other than he’d make a damn good audiobook actor.
Jude spreads my shirt wide, humming at the lack of a bra beneath the shirt that matches my pants. Then runs his tongue over one breast, circling my tight nipple before sucking deeply at it, acting out exactly what he suggested.
Again, I cry out quietly, arching toward him and spreading my fingers through his hair.
“The prettiest,” he groans at the sharp, wet peaks, blowing on one before traveling to the other, teasing it in the same manner.
“Jude,” I whimper, shivering as he moves down my body, pressing kisses to my midsection.
“That’s right. Jude. I’m here. I’m the one who’s going to take care of you.” He reaches the top of my waistband. “And I’m the one who wants you to show me that sweet pussy. Gonna let me spread you wide, use my fingers, my mouth, my tongue, angel? Lift.”
Without answering him, I lift my hips for his ease in removing my pants.
“No panties?” His head pops up and those typically cold eyes are deep wells of desire.
“I need to do laundry,” I admit, embarrassed.
“Lucky me,” he mutters, glancing back at the strip of hair on my mound while he pulls my pants further down my legs.
Jude settles between my thighs, wrapping my legs over his shoulders. Once there, he stares at where I’m anxious for his touch.
“It’s my fingers touching you,” he murmurs, swiping through slick folds and quickly finding that triggering nub.
“My fingers filling you.” One easily glides inside me and my back bows.
I whimper at the sweet intrusion, full but not satisfied with only one finger.
As if reading my thoughts, he pulls back and adds a second, watching my face as they disappear inside me.
“So eager.” With his eyes still focused on my face, he lowers and flicks his tongue where I’m most sensitive.
My hips flinch. My thighs clench.
“Gonna be my tongue that licks this sweetness. Makes a mess of you.” Then he dives in.
It’s been so long since I’ve been in this situation, that I’ve almost forgotten how sensitive I am, how easily I can be aroused, how much I’ve missed this kind of intimacy.
Only, Jude isn’t particularly gentle. He sucks my lower lips before flicking my clit like a man on a mission.
One determined to drag me up a mountain and dangle me over the peaked top, like I’m hanging by a rope off an imaginary sleigh, when all I want is to travel down the other side, chasing the high of racing.
Eventually, I totter over the edge, barreling down the opposite slope, feeling my blood rush to the center of my being.
“Jude,” I cry out, loud and shocked at how quickly he brought me to this point. Then I simply enjoy the ride as he doesn’t relent, twirling and swirling, and blowing on that trigger spot like a private blizzard.
Which winds me up for a second coming, literally.
“Jude?” I question, as he continues to lick and lap, squeezing at my backside with his firm hands, and tipping up my hips, like I’m a treat he’d like a second helping of.
My fingers fist in the shortness of his hair as my body preps for another spin. The spiral is a little slower but no less intense when I finally crest a new hill and whiz over it, sailing down another curve of arousal.
“Jude.” His name is one long syllable, punctuated by the hitch in my breath near the end. My hips sag. My backside rests in his hands. I flip my arm over my eyes, hiding them in the crease of my elbow.
What the hell just happened to me?
Jude Ashford happened to me, that’s what. He’s acted out a fantasy, making it a reality, and I just came twice in a matter of minutes.
A full-on kiss is pressed to where I’m swollen and soaked, and then Jude lifts his upper body, forcing my legs to fall from his shoulders. He tugs my arm free from my face.
When his eyes connect with mine, they remain bright, almost wild. Nothing like that moment they closed off in the inn a week ago. Where I’d been willing to give him my body, but he seemed turned off by the possibility. He didn’t want to have sex with me.
What changed?
I wanted a chance at something more.
He’d said that, right? But what had he meant?
Jude slowly folds upward to his knees again, staring down at where I’m the mess he promised to make of me.
“Tell me I’m better than any audiobook or a movie.” While his tone is demanding, his expression is sheepish, like he needs this confidence booster when he’s the most confident person I’ve ever known.
“You know what I love best about an audiobook or a movie?” I counter, not admitting to anything quite yet. “You can always re-listen to a book or re-watch a movie, and have a totally different experience the second time.”
He drops to his hands, giving my breasts a quick glance before meeting my eyes again.
“Are you saying you need a do-over to decide if that was good?”
I chuckle. “Oh, no, I’d say it was plenty good. Five stars.” More like seven in heaven, but that’s not a rating.
Jude slowly smiles. The corner of his mouth twitches, and that apostrophe pops, like it has possession of his lips. His wicked mouth, which just brought me two orgasms in mere minutes.
I run my hand over his cheek. “I’d return the favor . . .”
He catches my meaning, then grabs my wrist and turns my hand so he can press a kiss into my palm.
“Always a chance for a re-listen or a re-watch, right?” he mutters to the inside of my hand.
I laugh again, embarrassed that I’d said such a thing, but don’t miss the implication.
Is he suggesting we have more than tonight together? Hope feels like too much to ask for.
Instead, I slip from the couch and quickly use the bathroom.
When I return to the living room, the movie is still paused, and I take a seat on my end of the couch.
Jude leans forward, grips my ankles, and repositions us in our original entanglement.
He reaches for the blanket on the floor and tosses it over both of us, and we settle in for the not-so-surprising conclusion of another holiday movie.