Chapter 37
chapter thirty-seven
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: recital
She hadn't known.
That much was clear by the way she scrambled away from me and out of bed, threw on a short, silky robe (inside out), and paced the length of the room while muttering, "Oh my god. Oh my god."
One mystery solved.
My working theory had been that she was coerced into it.
Her father was the heavy-handed type. I'd lost count of the number of times I was pulled over by his state troopers back in high school.
Whether I was searched, warned, or ticketed for some alleged violation, it made clear that AG Saunders enjoyed some light abuse of power.
But I'd always assumed she knew. Even if she'd been dragged along, she'd been aware.
"That's not how it was supposed to go," she went on, still beating a track in the carpet.
"How was it supposed to go?" I stepped into my boxers. This conversation seemed like one that required a layer of clothing.
Audrey came to a jolting stop. She turned, met my gaze from across the darkened room. Her robe hung open, the ties lost to her haste. "They weren't supposed to do anything to you if I left."
I switched on a lamp beside the bed because this conversation also required some light. "What does that mean, Audrey?"
"It means—they said—" She pushed her fingers through her hair, shook her head. "My father was going to have you arrested."
I grabbed my shirt off the floor. This definitely required clothes. "Arrested for what?"
"He said he had more than enough evidence for a rape conviction. That even if the sentencing was generous, you'd be forced to register as a sex offender. And he'd make sure you lost your scholarships and admission to Columbia. He'd ruin everything for you."
I rocked back on my heels. So a little more than a light abuse of power.
"But if I left," she continued, pacing again, "if I cut ties with you and went to California and agreed to everything, it'd all go away."
My gaze dropped to the floor as I circled back through the memories of the days before Audrey disappeared from my life. I barely recognized them in this new light. And in that light, I found I had to bite back every knee-jerk thing I wanted to say.
She should've told me. We could've solved this shitstorm together.
Except we'd been kids with no money and no resources of our own. Our entire lives hinged on those scholarships of mine and her parents footing the bill for Barnard. I had no way of fighting off a whole sexual assault charge, definitely not with her father leaning hard on it, and we both knew that.
She still should've told me.
But she must've been terrified. And alone. Just the other day she said she'd failed the first semester. That she hadn't been able to get out of bed. She did the best she could in a horrible situation.
As a side note, I really fucking hated her family. Goddamn. Those fucking people.
Which led me to realize— "They made you marry him," I said. Not a question.
She wrapped her arms around her torso, nodding.
"That was the deal. Since I couldn't be trusted to make 'appropriate' choices, my parents would make them for me.
And if I refused—" She scoffed, exhaustion and pain filling her eyes.
"My father made a point of reminding me how easy it would be to file those charges. "
I couldn't believe she'd dragged that burden behind her for so long. That she'd lived with it and accepted it and married for it.
And she'd done it all to protect me.
"Come here," I said.
"No, this is important," she said, wagging a finger at the path of her pacing. "I'm busy being angry at myself."
"Why are you angry at yourself?"
"Because I should've known I couldn't trust my father," she snapped. "He promised to leave you alone and I let myself believe he would."
"That's bullshit." I sank onto the corner of the bed. "No one expects their family to betray them. Repeatedly."
The robe caught air as she walked from one end of the room to the other, billowing out around her bare thighs.
She didn't seem to notice. "Unless we're talking about my family, in which case we definitely expect it.
" She slapped the top of the dresser, hard, saying, "I can't believe I did everything they wanted, all of it, and they still dragged you into this. "
"Baby, please. Just slow down and come over here."
"Why aren't you furious?" she asked. "Why aren't you tearing this place to the ground and plotting your revenge?
Or—" She cut a wild glance in my direction.
"Oh my god, am I the revenge? Is that what this is really about?
Are you going to sneak out in the middle of the night and abandon me here or something?
Now that we've—" She pointed to the bed.
I rubbed my forehead. "For fuck's sake, Audrey."
"That's not a no."
"I have no intention of abandoning you," I said. "In fact, I'd love it if you'd come over here and let me take that robe off you."
"But why aren't you furious? I'm furious for you."
"Because I…" The words trailed off as I lost my hold on whatever I'd intended to say. The truth was, I'd let that anger keep me warm for years. And I'd only known half the story. But as deep as I reached, I couldn't find the anger now. All that remained was a thick, grainy layer of grief.
We'd lost so much. And for what? What good had any of this done?
Even if I lived for another five hundred years, I didn't think I'd understand how anyone could wield their daughter like an object.
I couldn't fathom forcing my son to give up everything he loved just so I could maintain my deeply corrupt political mantle and some archaic belief systems.
That, and her parents never thought I'd amount to much.
I could admit that spite had played a large part in pushing me through my university years. I loved proving people really fucking wrong.
"Because we've already lost enough to them, Audrey," I finally said. "I'm not willing to give them any more and neither should you."
She walked another loop before stopping in front of me, fury still vibrating through her. I picked up the hand she'd whacked and turned it over in mine. Her palm was red and warm. It must've hurt, at least a bit.
"I'm still mad they fucked you over."
Stroking my thumb over her palm, I glanced up to meet her eyes. "They fucked us both over."
"But you—you could've been kicked out of Columbia." She held up her free hand. "Wait. Were you kicked out of Columbia? Is that why you transferred?"
"No, I didn't get kicked out. Caltech was the better fit," I said quickly. "But this is our last night. I don't care about that shit anymore."
"Yes, you do. It's why you've been a snappy little snapping turtle to me since demanding I dance with you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
She gave me her best attempt at a glower. It was more of a squinting pout. God, what I wouldn't give to be on the receiving end of that every day. "I think you do."
"Nope. Sorry."
She brought a hand to the back of my neck, threaded her fingers through my hair. The robe hung open between her breasts, exposing a long, gorgeous stretch of skin. I leaned in and pressed my mouth to the side of her breast. Closed my hands around her hips.
"How do you want to spend it?" she asked.
"I've already told you my plans for this robe."
She dragged a finger down the front of my shirt. "You first."
I yanked the shirt over my head and then pushed to my feet to ditch the boxers. The robe hit the floor next. "Is this what you want, princess?"
With a hand on my shoulder, she pushed me back down to the corner of the bed.
"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. She dropped a knee beside my hip, then the other. Linked her arms around my neck as she settled over me, as she rocked against my shaft. "I think it is."
She reached between us, pumping me with the kind of slow, deep pressure that made me wild and desperate. I watched her expressions shift as she teased my cockhead over her clit, down to her wet heat. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, rocking against me with each pass.
I let my hands skate down her back, along the dip and flare of her waist, over her ass. She felt like silk and muscle and every precious thing in the world. Like promises I'd tried to forget.
I swallowed hard, asking, "Having fun with the torture?"
"It's not torture if you love it," she replied, and she wasn't wrong about that. Not for one second.
But also— "Not sure you'll be saying that when I'm done with you."
A wicked grin filled her face as she twisted her palm up my shaft. Goddamn. "Quiet, you. Let me do this."
She shifted until I was there, just barely inside her but enough that I couldn't think beyond the heat and pressure, couldn't keep my eyes open. My lips found the slight curve of her breast again and I kissed my way to her nipple. She bucked against me as I pinned her between my teeth.
She sank down on me like we weren't running out of time. The hot pulse of her muscles was enough to scramble my head and make me believe it.
When she was there, when she was fully seated and I was hanging on by a single string of restraint, she looped her arms around my neck and said, "Kiss me."
The words were barely off her tongue when I bit them out of the air and closed the space between us. She tasted perfect, just so fucking perfect, and I wanted to live and die in her cunt, and it finally felt like I knew where I was going.
I dropped my hands to her hips, gripping tight as I thrust up into her. I wanted to last for hours but I also wanted to come right fucking now so I could lick her until she screamed and then drag her into the shower and pour myself into her all over again.
"You—feel—so—good," she said, each word groaned out as she slammed down on me.
"Baby, I'm doing the absolute least here. This is all you."
She pressed her forehead to my shoulder, her teeth bared to my skin. "It's never been like this with—with anyone else."