Chapter 4
ZENNIKA
T he overlook appears around a curve, just as Jude described, a simple pull-off area with a guardrail protecting visitors from the steep drop beyond. He guides Old Blue into the empty lot, cutting the engine.
"Perfect timing," he says, nodding toward the horizon where the sun hovers just above the distant hills, painting the sky in crimson and gold.
After being confined in the truck and then the diner, I'm eager to stretch my legs and breathe air that doesn't smell like French fries or Jude's subtle cologne. The view is spectacular, rolling Missouri hills stretching to the horizon, bathed in the dying light of day.
I walk to the rail, inhaling deeply. The evening air is warm, carrying the scent of grass and wildflowers.
A few feet away, Jude leans against the rail, his profile outlined in gold by the setting sun.
The silence between us feels different now, less charged with animosity and more with.
.. something else I shouldn't be feeling.
"Thank you," I say, breaking the quiet.
He turns, brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"
"For this." I gesture vaguely around us. "Suggesting the stop. It's beautiful."
"Thought you might appreciate it." His mouth curves in that half-smile that's becoming dangerously familiar. "A city girl like you probably doesn't get views like this very often."
"Is that a dig?" I ask, but there's no heat in my voice.
"An observation." He turns back to the view. "Some things are better experienced without a skyline in the way."
He shrugs, turning back to the view. "Plans change. Sometimes for the better."
Something in his tone makes me look at him more closely. The golden light softens his features, highlighting cheekbones I've never properly appreciated before. When did Jude Carson become so... handsome?
"You've changed," I say, the observation slipping out before I can stop it.
"So have you." He meets my eyes, his expression thoughtful. "We're not the same people we were in high school."
"Thank God for that. I was insufferable."
He laughs, the sound warm and unexpected. "You were intense. Focused."
"That's a polite way of saying I was an uptight control freak."
"You knew what you wanted." He turns fully toward me now. "There's something admirable about that."
"What about you? What do you want now?" The question feels weighted.
For a long moment, he just looks at me, his eyes darkening with something I'm afraid to identify. Then he steps closer, eliminating the careful distance we've maintained.
"Right now?" His voice drops lower. "I want to kiss you."
My breath catches. I should step back. Should remind him of all the reasons this is a terrible idea—Jason, Abby, our completely different lives. Instead, I find myself swaying toward him, drawn by some force I can't explain.
"That would be a mistake," I whisper, even as my eyes drop to his mouth.
"Probably," he agrees, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, fingers lingering on my cheek. "But I'm starting to think some mistakes are worth making."
The last rays of sunlight disappear behind the hills, casting us in the soft blue of twilight. In this half-light, it's easier to admit the truth I've been fighting since he first pulled up at the airport.
I want this too. I shouldn’t, but I do.
I close the final distance between us, my hand finding the solid warmth of his chest as I rise on tiptoes. Our lips meet, tentative at first, a question rather than a statement. His hand slides to the back of my neck, steadying me as he deepens the kiss, answering with certainty.
Everything falls away, my reservations, our history, the complications waiting down the road. There's only this moment, the surprising softness of his lips against mine, the heat building between us with alarming speed.
A car horn blares as a truck rumbles into the overlook, high beams briefly illuminating us before we jump apart. The spell breaks, reality comes rushing back. What am I doing kissing Jude Carson at a random overlook in Missouri?
"We should go," I say, already retreating toward the truck, not meeting his eyes. "It's getting late."
He doesn't argue, just follows me silently back to Old Blue. The atmosphere inside the cab is electric now, charged with unspoken words and the lingering sensation of his mouth on mine.
"Zennika," he starts as we pull back onto the highway, the dashboard lights illuminating the serious set of his jaw.
"It was a mistake," I cut him off, staring straight ahead. "A momentary lapse in judgment. Let's just forget it happened."
From the corner of my eye, I see his hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn't push. "If that's what you want."
It's not what I want. What I want is to pull over again and pick up where we left off. What I want is to stop overthinking for once in my life and just feel.
But wanting isn't always wise. And whatever this is between us has complications written all over it.
So I nod and turn to look out the window, watching as stars begin to appear in the darkening sky.
Back at the motel, I slip quietly into my bed, turning to face the wall. I can tell from Jude's breathing that he's not asleep either. My mind replays the kiss, the intensity of it, the rightness I felt in his arms, despite every logical reason this is a terrible idea.
Eventually, the exhaustion of the day catches up with me, and I drift into an uneasy sleep, only to wake sometime later, pulse racing, unsure what disturbed me.
My eyes snap open in the darkness. A glance at the digital clock shows it's just past midnight. Then I hear it - a soft sound from the other bed. Jude's breathing, faster than it should be for someone asleep.
"Jude?" I whisper. "You awake?"
A pause, then, "Yeah." His voice is rough in the darkness. "Sorry if I woke you."
"You didn't." A lie, but a kind one. "Can't sleep?"
"Just thinking."
The darkness emboldens me. "About what?"
The sheets rustle as he shifts. "About what happened at the overlook."
My heart beats faster. I've spent the last few hours trying not to think about that kiss, about how right it felt despite all logic.
"It was a mistake," I say again, but with less conviction this time.
"You keep saying that." His voice is closer now. I can tell he's sitting up. "But I'm not convinced you believe it."
I should shut this down. There are a dozen reasons why crossing this line with Jude is a terrible idea. But in the darkness, those reasons seem less important than the pull I feel toward him.
Instead, I find myself sitting up too. "Jude..."
He moves then, crossing the short distance between our beds to sit on the edge of mine. I can just make out his features in the dim light, the serious set of his mouth, the intensity in his eyes.
"Tell me to go back to my bed," he says quietly. "Tell me this is a bad idea, and I'll respect that. No hard feelings."
I should say exactly that. The smart, sensible thing would be to maintain boundaries, to keep this trip purely practical.
I reach for him in the darkness, my hand finding his cheek. "I don't want you to go back to your bed."
The confession hangs between us for one breathless moment. Then his mouth is on mine, hot and demanding, picking up exactly where we left off at the overlook. I respond immediately, my tongue darting out to tease his bottom lip before slipping inside his mouth to dance with his.
His hands are everywhere, in my hair, sliding down my sides, pulling me closer.
I match his intensity, fingers slipping under his t-shirt to explore the warm skin beneath.
A low moan escapes my lips as he slides a hand under my tank top, gently kneading one of my breasts before teasing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
The sensation sends shivers down my spine.
When we break for air, he rests his forehead against mine.
"This changes things," he warns, his breath warm against my lips.
"I know." I pull back just enough to see his eyes. "I don't care."
That's all the permission he needs. His next kiss is slower, deeper, a thorough exploration rather than a desperate clash. He lowers me back against the pillows, his body a solid weight partially covering mine.
"You're sure about this?" he asks, as his hand slides under my tank top and he trails kisses down my neck.
I answer by reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. "I've never been more sure of anything."
His kiss grows deeper as my fingers work his shirt upward, exploring newly exposed skin. He's all hard planes and solid muscle, his body telling the story of years of physical work on the ranch.
He slips my shorts off while pressing another passionate kiss on my lips. When he reaches down and rubs circles around my clit through my panties, a gasp escapes me, and he smirks against my lips. "You like that?" he asks.
I can’t form words, so I nod, and he takes that as permission to keep going. His fingers slip under the waistband, and the first touch of his skin against mine makes me cry out. He circles slowly, deliberately, teasing until I’m arching toward him, desperate for more contact.
Jude’s mouth finds mine again, swallowing my gasps, our bodies moving in rhythm. Just when I think I can’t take any more, he lowers himself, trailing hot kisses down my stomach. He pulls my panties off with one smooth motion, and I shiver in anticipation, every nerve alive and sparking.
His breath is warm against my skin, and then his mouth is on my pussy, tongue and lips working in tandem with his fingers.
I’m lost, utterly undone by the intensity of it.
The room spins, and I clutch at the sheets, at his hair, at anything to anchor me.
He flicks his tongue, and I come apart with a sharp cry, the world dissolving into white-hot pleasure.
"Zen," he murmurs, voice thick with desire, and the sound of my name on his lips is enough to send another wave crashing through me.