Chapter 13 #2
He gets out of the car and right into my personal space. My whole body is shouting at me to step back, but I don’t. I can’t show fear in front of this man. He’ll eat me alive, and I’ll never live it down.
He looks down on me. He’s so tall, and his hard muscles are touching my body. His eyes are hooded as he states, “I’ll take it from here. I’m always in charge.” He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t look away. His eyes are clear and bright. Not a sign of concussion today.
I swallow nervously and sway towards him. What am I doing? I’ve never in my life been affected by a seductive, alluring voice. Suggestive words held no power over me. But then I’ve never met anyone as confident, as alpha, as Jude Greystone before.
He grins, stepping aside and inviting me to sit with an entirely too smooth gesture. I climb in, following his command effortlessly. But instead of him going around to the other side of the car and jumping in the driver seat, he leans down.
And I stop breathing.
He’s crowded out all the oxygen. Sucked it all out of the car and my lungs.
“May I?”
His gently cooing voice fills up the space where the oxygen was.
Every bit of my body is aware of him. His scent is stronger as he leans down, pulling my seat belt across my body, brushing just in front of my breasts.
My brain stutters, and it’s as if my breasts are trying to sabotage me.
My nipples stand out, yearning to close the space between us.
“There, all buckled in.” He gives the belt a tug as it sits neatly between my tits. He quirks a brow at me as we both stare at my protruding nipples.
What is wrong with me that I can’t control my body parts? If it’s not my eyes doing their own thing when he’s got no shirt on, it’s my breasts trying to grab him like magnets at a seaside cuddly toy grabbing machine. Down girls.
“Thank you,” I say faintly.
He doesn’t lift up and away, but turns his face upwards to look into mine. His delectable brown eyes with the blue-green flecks in them stare into my soul. Asking all sorts of questions I don’t even understand, and have no idea of any answers.
“You’re most welcome, Emma.”
He pulls away, and it’s as if someone switched off the heating. I feel cold, and I miss the warmth, want the heat, the inferno. I watch him stride around to the other side and jump in the driving seat.
“Let’s get me home and you to work.” He smirks at me and we set off into London.
The conversation is stilted. The radio is playing, and we’re zooming ever closer to us parting. I’m humming to a catchy tune on the radio. I’ve heard Noah playing part of this on his guitar.
“Don’t mind me. Sing louder.” He smiles at me as he effortlessly jets past cars, his eyes flashing with laughter.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.” I laugh.
“I’m not known for my singing. Well, only at parties.
I love a good karaoke, but it doesn’t love me.
Everyone protests.” I smile, thinking about the Christmas party with the choir.
They make everyone sing. Even if you can’t.
They just love everyone’s efforts. “It’s a catchy song.
Noah plays it on his guitar,” I say proudly.
“Does he? He told me he’s dyslexic.” He looks over at me. “Is it hard for him to read the music?”
“Yes, but he learns by ear, and makes up symbols for words instead. He says he sees the music in colours.”
He grins over at me and my heart starts to beat faster. He seems pleased by this.
“He showed me his symbols. It’s a great skill to do that. It takes real guts.”
His eyes go back on the road, and I can hardly get a word out. I’m almost choking up with emotion. This man, who has only just met my kids after they knocked him out, is praising them. I decide to make a joke of it.
“I need you to stop the car.”
He looks confused, and surprised. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“You must be ill. You must be blacking out or something.” He starts to grin as he looks across at me. “My kids tried to murder you and you’re praising them. We need to get you to A&E immediately.” I smirk at him, and he starts to laugh.
“I know. Maybe I’ve got amnesia.”
“I hope so. Then we won’t get sued. Or arrested for all their other crimes.”
“Yes, trying to exhort my bank details for one.”
“Oh God.” I put my head in my hands. “I’m sure they never meant it.”
He smirks at me. And dimples appear on his cheeks. I’m a bit dazed, maybe it’s me who has had the blow to the head. Maybe I’ve turned into an empath.
We pull up into the underground car park at his building, and I briefly wonder why he needs my building for a car park if he has this at his disposal. I think about mentioning it, but then think better of it.
He exits the driver's seat and comes around to my side of the car before I’ve even got my belt off.
Opening the car door, he offers his large hand to help me out.
No one has ever done that for me before.
Even when I had the babies, fetching them home from the hospital that first time.
Nigel took the baby, and left me to help myself.
Jude supports my weight as I clamber out. Again I feel like I’m like a baby elephant, squeezing myself out of a tube. I wish I was lithe and graceful. But I defy anyone to get out of a sports car elegantly. Especially in a tightish skirt.
“Thanks for getting us here in one piece.” I grin at him and pretend to wipe my brow in relief. “I can relinquish my responsibility of you now.”
He’s stood close to me, watching my face.
“So, dumping me out into the wild. Not a care or look back. Charming.” He’s bantering with me, and I like it.
He’s so unexpectedly… fun. “Tell you what. Have dinner with me and I’ll definitely suffer from amnesia and forget all about the budding crime empire you’ve got going on in Rochester Court. ”
“You’re blackmailing me for a dinner?” I say incredulously.
“Well, what can you expect? I’ve spent twenty-four hours at the heart of a criminal syndicate. It’s bound to rub off.” He’s smiling again.
“I really am truly sorry, Jude.”
I look up into his smiling face. His hair is a bit ruffled and not totally in place, falling into his soulful brown eyes. I prefer it like this. He almost looks too perfect in all his photos. But here, now, he’s real, but also ridiculously unreal. What am I going on about?
“Are you?” His voice has changed. It’s deeper, quieter, and his face is more serious.
He steps into my personal space, and holy hell, his spicy scent that has been playing mild havoc with my senses in the car ramps up.
I think my brain is short circuiting. “Then come have dinner with me. Prove it.” His voice is a challenge as his eyes burn into mine.
“Jude, I—”
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name. Say my name again. I like to hear you say it.”
I stare into his eyes, the pupils starting to grow larger, eclipsing the brown and blue-green flecks.
“Ju—”
I don’t get anything else out, as he bends down and kisses me.
A whisper of his lips on mine. I embarrassingly fall forwards into him.
He growls when he feels my body on his, pushing us both gently back.
I’m wedged on the side of his car, him hemming me in, and I like it.
A flick of his tongue and my heart sets off to the moon.
The power pounding through my chest. It’s like a tornado has ripped me apart.
His stare is intense as he presses his lips to mine and really kisses me.
I hear a moan and know it’s me. His body stiffens in response, his leg pushing between mine.
My hands have decided to set off exploring by themselves and are up in his hair before my brain has made any decisions.
He pulls my hips towards him, and I can feel his erection, bulging at his jeans front.
Oh my God. My lady bits are up for a flash mob. They want to put on a show for this man. I feel my leg rise as much as his cock is and I hook my leg around his.
What am I doing? I’m in a car park. Making out like a horny teenager, not a respectable business owner and mother of three.
His lips touch my neck, his eyes closed, but mine are wide open. I can’t quite take in the sight in front of me. This god-like creature, the man who graces the covers of magazines, is teasing my lips open with his tongue, and licking up my neck like a tasty treat.
“Christ, Emma, what the hell are you doing to me?” he murmurs into my mouth as he nips and licks at my lips, my jaw, my neck. I don’t want him to stop. “Let me take you to dinner. Please.”
He pulls back, and I must look shell-shocked. He’s studying my face and eyes. And then he waves his hands in front of my face to see if anyone is home.
“Errr, I…” I pant out. No more words can I muster.
“You need to make it up to me.” I can see his smile as he licks up my throat.
“Don’t sue.”
He pulls back with a grin. “You owe me big time.” He plants another kiss on me.
Is he expecting me to make some sort of coherent decision when he kisses like this? Not a chance.
“Yessss… Yes, I’ll go with you,” I warble out. I’d go anywhere he asked me to at this point. He’s like the Pied Piper, and I am a charmed disciple. No thought, just action. I’m in his thrall.
“Good. I’ll call you. Don’t try and bump anyone else off this week. I don’t want to have to come and bail any one of you out of jail.”
He steps back and I feel cold. My legs are shaky. I'm not sure I’ll be able to walk the short distance to work, and I’m still in my trainers.
I’m stood gawking at him like an idiot. I need to move, but he’ll think I’m a total blundering fool while I’m trying to portray demure and elegant. Ha! I defy any woman who has just been so thoroughly kissed to walk away without a stumble.
“Do I need to escort you across the road?” He’s touching my hair now, grinning salaciously at my lack of coordination, and nods towards my handbag and heels in the front foot well. He knows the effect he has on women. That much was evident from the magazines and internet stalking I did.
He bends down and plucks them out of the front foot well, his arse filling out his jeans, and my mouth goes dry as I stare at it.
I’ve turned into a sex-dazed crazy person. I never ogle men. Well, only ones who don’t wear shirts on the internet. Obviously, they want to be ogled, otherwise why would they have a photoshoot done and posted.
“No, no. I can manage.” I reach out to grab my things, missing them the first time, bringing out another of his devastatingly handsome smirks.
“I’ll ring you for dinner.” He repeats.
“Yes, I’ll go for dinner.” I gasp out the sentence, the breathy tone to my voice foreign to my ears. I’ve abandoned the cool, calm, professional business woman I normally am, instead turning into a Greystone groupie, and loving it.
He trails a finger down my face. It’s as if all my Hollywood fantasies have come to life this Friday morning. As if he’s seen my checklist of romantic moves to experience before you die, and is working his way down it. The Divine Checklist.
“Good girl.” Cupping his hand behind my head and pulling me back towards him, he growls and kisses me again. He doesn’t let me go. I can hardly breathe.
Poof, that’s it. Out for a duck. One of my top five checked off.
He eventually pulls away, allowing me a little space to leave. I can feel his eyes on me, and I sneak an unobtrusive peek backwards as I turn towards the stairs to exit up to street level. Yep. Watching.
I don’t look back. I can’t, to be honest. I have to check my feet are still on the concrete. I feel like I’m floating, about to take off. I think I’ve been Jude Greystoned.