Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JUDE
Sunshine warms my face as I sit in the back yard of my mom’s house, everyone relaxing after a filling Sunday dinner. Except for the kids. They never seem to stop. Beckham’s often joked that Maggie, his stepdaughter, has two speeds — full on or dead stop. I believe it. Even so, Abbey’s right there with all of them, pushing little Jeremiah on the baby swing as Presley and Maggie climb the rock wall attached to the playscape.
I saw how great she was with the kids when I brought her here for her first Second Sunday. But that was before I knew her well. Now that I’ve gotten to know her quite intimately over the past few weeks, I see something I didn’t back then.
Despite all the people who’ve abandoned her throughout her life, she’s still full of so much hope. So much damn love. She deserves to share that love with other people.
Something tightens in my chest at the thought.
“You’re staring hard enough that you’re about to burn a hole in her.”
When Finn’s voice cuts through, I jerk my gaze away from Abbey. My younger brother grins like the bastard he is, leaning back in the chair across from me with a knowing look.
“I’m not staring,” I mutter, taking a quick sip of my beer to cover my reaction, heat creeping up the back of my neck.
“Oh, sure,” Beckham jumps in from his spot on the wicker couch. “Because that wasn’t the most lovesick expression I’ve ever seen.”
“Lovesick?” I nearly choke on the word. “You guys are out of your minds.”
“Pretty sure that’s an ‘I’m getting laid and loving it’ smile,” Finn teases. “What do you think, Beck?”
“Definitely getting laid,” my older brother agrees, although he’s only older by less than a year.
It’s probably why Beckham, Finn, and I have always gotten along so well. There’s only a little more than two years difference in age between the three of us, with Hayden being eight years older than me and Dylan being five years younger.
“The only question is by who?”
“Whom,” Finn corrects. “The proper question is getting laid by whom ?”
“When the fuck did you become the grammar police?” Beckham shoots back before waggling his brows. “Or is it because you’re trying to impress a certain librarian?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Genevieve is just a friend.” Finn purposefully avoids our gaze as he takes another swig of beer. “This isn’t about me anyway. This is about Jude.”
“Is your sex life that boring that you need to pry into mine?”
“So you admit you’re having sex?” Finn beams.
I open my mouth to protest, then shake my head. It’s useless. My brothers know me better than anyone. Know when I’m upset. When I’m struggling. And, as they’ve already demonstrated, when I’m happy.
Abbey definitely makes me happy.
I felt it that very first night. She has this infectious enthusiasm for life, even when it’s beaten her down, and I can’t help but be attracted to her.
I shift my eyes toward her, watching as she politely extricates herself from the kids and makes her way toward the house.
“Fuck off,” I say, getting to my feet and starting in the same direction.
“Where are you going, lover boy?” Beckham calls after me, grinning like he knows something I don’t.
“None of your business.”
Finn chimes in with a low whistle. “Gotta say, Jude, not sure I’ve ever seen you this pussy-whipped. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
I flip them both off as I make my way into the house. Their laughter follows me, but I push it out of my head. I’m not about to give them the satisfaction of teasing me about Abbey — not when we’re just having some fun.
Nothing more.
I find her in the living room, looking at an old family photo placed on the mantle. She doesn’t notice me at first, but when she does, she smiles, soft and easy. It does something to me every damn time.
“Everything okay?” I step closer.
“I got distracted on my way to fill up my wine.” She holds up her glass before returning her attention to the picture. “I love all the photos your mom has. It makes this place feel like a home.” She peers into the distance, a look of contemplation crossing her brow. “I don’t think my parents ever displayed a single photo of me.”
My heart squeezes at the notion. What must it have felt like for her to be raised by people like that? I couldn’t imagine.
“Come on.” I take her glass and set it on a nearby side table, linking my fingers with hers. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Her eyebrows lift, but she doesn’t hesitate. I lead her down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the garage. It’s cool and dark, the air carrying a faint scent of old wood and dust.
With a flick of a switch, warm light floods the space. Abbey steps inside, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. Along one wall is a small bar, stocked with all sorts of liquor and glasses. Beyond that are three small stainless steel tanks — my dad’s old brewing setup. While I could have replaced them with a system that has more automations, I don’t want to do that until I have to.
My dad used this equipment. I want to continue using it as long as I possibly can, even if it requires me to be more hands on during the brewing process.
“This is where it all started,” I say, gesturing at the tanks. “My dad used to spend hours out here, brewing beer, talking about opening his own brewery someday. That dream died when he did, but I like knowing I can keep some part of him alive, even if it’s through beer.”
“I think that’s sweet.” Abbey moves closer to the bar, running her fingers over the worn wood. Along the counter are photos — my parents on their wedding day, Finn and Beckham as kids, me holding Dylan, Hayden and my dad laughing over a bottle of beer. Memories, each one of them.
Abbey picks up a photo of me as a teenager standing next to my dad in this very room. “Is this you?”
“That was the first time I helped him brew.” I swallow hard. “He was already getting sick and having trouble doing simple tasks, so he asked me to help him. But I had no idea what I was doing, so I let the wort temperature get too low and didn’t sparge the water correctly.”
“I have no idea what any of that means,” Abbey says with a laugh.
I run a hand through my hair. “At the time, neither did I. But my dad didn’t care that I completely messed up his beer. He said it was more about spending time together.”
Abbey nods, setting the picture back down before turning her gaze toward me. “Tell me your favorite memory of him.”
The request catches me off guard. It’s not something I talk about often, not something I let myself dwell on. But with her, everything’s a little easier.
Leaning against the bar, I cross my arms and think back. “He used to take me camping. He’d always try to find an activity to do with each of us so we could have some one-on-one time with him, and for me, it was camping. I always loved being outdoors. We’d stay up late, sit by the fire, and talk about everything, especially as I got older and more mature. Life. Love. The future. I don’t even remember half of what we said, but I remember the way it felt. Like nothing else in the world mattered except that moment.”
“That sounds perfect,” she whispers.
“It was.” I pause, feeling the weight of the memory, the pull of something deeper. “I haven’t thought about it in a long time.”
A heavy silence hangs between us, the kind that’s charged with meaning. Abbey moves closer, radiating warmth.
“Thanks for sharing that with me,” she says softly, reaching up to brush her fingers against my face. It’s a subtle touch, but it sends a current through me, something I can’t ignore.
“I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but my voice comes out rougher than I intended.
Abbey shakes her head, her gaze never leaving mine. “I don’t mind. I like seeing this side of you.”
And that’s the problem. She’s seeing too much. Making me feel things I swore I wouldn’t let myself feel again.
But with her so close, her eyes soft and full of something I can’t name, I don’t care. I just want her. Here. Now. To hell with all the reasons this is a bad idea.
I hook an arm around her waist and tug her closer as my eyes drink in every line of her face. Her brilliant blue eyes. Her pink cheeks. Her full lips. I’ve never met anyone so damn beautiful. And she’s mine. For now.
Unable to go another second without feeling her, I crash my lips against hers, hungry and demanding. Relief floods through me as I relish in her taste, her tongue tangling with mine.
The past few hours were pure torture, knowing she was within reach, but I couldn’t have her. Couldn’t do what I really wanted. What I’ve been craving since she slipped out of my bed this morning.
Now I can.
And I can’t wait any longer.
Deepening the exchange, I hoist her up and set her onto the bar. As I trail my hand up the inside of her thigh, I savor in the feel of her smooth skin under my fingertips. Her skirt offers little resistance, and I inch higher, reaching the edge of her panties.
“Jude,” she exhales, pulling away from my mouth. She takes a moment to catch her breath, her lust-filled eyes locking with mine. “What are you doing?”
“I need you, Abbey.” I curve toward her, capturing her lips in another rough kiss. “Been desperate for you all damn day.”
I push aside her panties, revealing how wet she already is for me.
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to look but not touch, especially after spending all night touching?” I murmur against her neck, planting kisses on her skin as I tease her clit with my thumb.
“All night feeling.” I slide a finger inside of her, savoring in her tightness and warmth. “All night fucking.”
When I add another finger and start thrusting faster, she releases a cry. I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing her moans. “I need to have you,” I confess, my motions getting more hurried and desperate. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
“Then have me,” she pants, her chest heaving through her growing labored breaths. “I’m yours.”
“Mine,” I growl, a rush of possessiveness burning inside of me.
“Yours.”
Pulling back slightly, I reach into my pocket and retrieve a condom from my wallet.
“Was this your plan all along, Mr. Lawrence?” she teases, and damn if hearing her sultry voice address me like that doesn’t make me harden even more.
“And if it was, Ms. Rhodes?” I lower the zipper on my jeans.
“Then I’m more than happy to go along for the ride… If you know what I mean.” She waggles her brows.
“I most certainly do,” I say, bringing my erection up to her, her warmth surrounding me.
When I thrust into her, she parts her lips, a scream begging to be set free, but I muffle the sound with my hand. “Quiet.”
“Stop fucking me so good and I won’t be so loud,” she says once I uncover her mouth.
“Never, Abbey.” I bury my head in the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin. “I’ll never stop giving you what you need.”
“Oh, god,” she whimpers as I drive into her harder and harder, wild with lust.
This is reckless. We agreed to keep whatever this is just between us. There’s no need to announce ourselves to the world, considering it’s just sex. Not to mention, I’m her boss.
But with every day I spend around her, with every part of me I reveal to her, I’m beginning to think it’s not just sex. That it never could be just sex.
And the thought petrifies me.
But not enough to walk away.