chapter 26 #2
When Jude collapses over me, he brings the hand that touched me to the top of my head as if cocooning me beneath him. His inhales are rapid, and his chest presses against mine, before he rolls us to our sides.
He swipes his hand over my hair, holding it back while he stares at me.
“Why did that feel like another epiphany?”
“I don’t know.” I chuckle, feeling strangely the same way.
Jude Ashford just ruined me.
“From the moment I met you, I’ve had this pull to you,” Jude says, his voice low as he continues to smooth back my hair.
“It’s called transference,” I tease, feeling something rise in my chest. A fear that things are moving too fast, when I’m the one who told him he didn’t need to go slow. “You think you’re attracted to me because I saved you.”
Transference happens in many ways, but it’s mainly when someone hurt believes they love someone who helped. Patients with doctors. Victims with first responders.
It’s one reason I warned Jude not to fall in love with me. He’d fall under a false perception, not actual attraction.
Jude chuffs. “Oh, there is no doubt I’m attracted to you, but it’s not because you saved me.”
“Really?” I arch a brow, both curious and teasing. Desperate to keep the moment light.
“Really.” He bops my nose before he lowers his gaze to my lips. “And I’m most attracted to this spot right here.”
He sets his fingertip just below my lower lip, off to the left.
“Why there?” I question with a nervous laugh.
“Because you have a freckle that I’ve claimed as mine. Like the North Star in the sky, leading me—”
He abruptly stops, and I hold my breath, waiting on that final word.
Instead, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to that spot just below my lip.
I shouldn’t like that out of the freckles I’ve always considered a nuisance, he’s claimed one as his own. “That was beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re beautiful,” he says before giving me another quick kiss and rolling from the bed to dispose of the condom.
When he returns, he presses me away from him, then settles his front to my back, lining himself up with me everywhere he can, like he did when I was sick.
And we fall asleep for a short winter nap.
+ + +
Morning comes too quickly. Like snapshots on Aunt Gertie’s phone, I flip through the captured moments of the past few days.
Jude in my place; me in his. His hands on my skin and his kiss on my lips.
It’s all been so much so fast, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I can’t seem to slow the rapid roll of wanting more with Jude.
Like he said, he’s not pretending.
I couldn’t fake these blooming feelings if I tried.
He’s so different than I first thought. The selfish, distant man is more open-minded than I’d initially given him credit. He’s changing right in front of my eyes.
Like I told him, I see him wanting to do better, putting in effort to be better, and the trait is endearing.
He’s still as complex as ever, especially with all that talk of being my groom.
With that thought, I roll my head on the pillow and watch him rest. He looks less intense as he sleeps. Not so hard, but also not completely soft. He’s just . . . Jude.
Beautiful on the outside, complex on the inside, a perfect blend like my chocolate mints.
On that note, I slowly slink from Jude’s bed.
After missing days of work, I don’t want to be late, and I need to make a quick trip home.
Tiptoeing around Jude’s room, I collect my underwear and yesterday’s clothing before stepping into his bathroom.
Every sound is too loud. The toilet flushing.
The water running. Even braiding my hair somehow feels noisy.
When I re-enter Jude’s room, he jackknifes upright, lifting one knee and wrapping both arms around it.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m on shift today, and I need to go home to get my uniform.” As I hadn’t planned a sleepover, or a night of unforgettable sex, I need a few minutes before I head to the firehouse.
Jude hums, running his hand over his head and mussing up the already rumpled hair. He looks well-rested while freshly fucked, and I fight a smile, knowing I did that to him.
At least for one night.
“Maybe you should bring that uniform with you the next time. We can re-enact the day I had the heart attack.”
“A broken heart,” I correct, both a little thrilled at the mention of a next time, then crushed when I remember what Jude was probably doing when he had the stress episode.
He brushes off my correction and continues to give me that twitchy smile, which grows a little wider.
“You could pretend to be my angel. Maybe kiss me this time.”
The reminder of what I’d actually done, but haven’t owned up to yet, slaps my cheeks.
“Yeah.” I choke. “Pretend.” Pretend to do something I already did.
“You okay?” Jude tilts his head, staring at my face, which I’m certain gives me away.
“I’m good. It’s just early. I need coffee.” I roll my eyes and tug at the quick braid I made of my hair.
Jude tosses back the sheet over his lap and slips from the bed, prowling toward me with a seductive gleam in his eyes. He cups my jaw and gives me a quick kiss.
“Would you be interested in attending a hockey game with me sometime?”
“Sure.” He knows I’m not a hockey fan, but he’s asking me to do something with him. Something that interests him.
“How about Tuesday night?”
“Let me check my schedule and get back to you.” I’m supposed to have holiday-escape drinks with a few girls this week.
Jude’s face falls a little bit, but he quickly gives me one of his practiced smiles. Because I don’t like the look, I run my thumb along his lips, intending to loosen them. Instead, he leans forward and kisses me with a broad sweep of his tongue.
A hockey game feels very dating-ish, but I don’t mention it. We established last night that we aren’t pretending. We are friends.
Maybe a date is a benefit.