Chapter 29
I already know before I open my eyes that this hangover is going to overstay its welcome. Jesus fucking Christ. I squeeze my closed eyes tight, groaning, bracing myself to face the world. And light.
I open one eye.
Frown.
“I’m seriously pissed off,” Jude says, his face a twisted mess of disapproving lines as he leans over my horizontal form. “Do you always drink until you’re legless and incoherent?”
“No.” My voice is quiet. Sheepish. “Hardly ever, actually.” Just a few times in as many weeks. Ironically, more since I met Jude Harrison. I grimace and ease myself up to sitting, groaning as I do. “What are you doing here?” I ask, rubbing at my eyes, my head banging so hard. Then I register where I am. “Wait, what am I doing here?”
“I’ve never seen a woman so drunk in my life.” He stands, making the bed move. The ripple sends a shock wave through my body into my skull.
“Shit.”
“Seriously, Amelia, you were absolutely battered.”
“Alright, Dad,” I grumble. Jude raises surprised brows at me, and I roll my eyes. Mistake. “Ouch.”
“Here,” he mutters, holding out a bottle of Evian.
“Thanks.” I try to unscrew the cap, try with all my might, but the strain sends stabbing pains through my temple and into my skull. “I can’t do it,” I mutter. “It’s too tight.”
Jude huffs and removes the lid, handing it back. I chug down the ice-cold, heavenly liquid as he towers over me, waiting for me to finish so he can resume scolding me. I gasp and drop to my back, pulling the sheets over my head. Jude whips them straight back off. “Did you tell your friends I have anger issues?”
I freeze. Did I say that? Oh my God, I have absolutely no recollection of last night. Regardless ... “How do you know what I’ve said to my friends?”
“Because they told me.”
“When?”
“When I was carrying you all one by one to my car.” Accusing eyes drill into me.
“Oh.” I wince. “You were at the bar?”
“No, I came to the bar when I finally got some sense out of one of you.”
“Oh.”
“And took your friends home.”
“Oh.”
“Filthy?”
“What?”
“Jude Fuckboy Harrison?”
I press my lips together, cringing. “Sorry.”
“You will be.” He lays himself over me, pressing me to the bed, his lovely, clear complexion annoyingly fresh. “You stink.”
“Get away from me then,” I retort.
“Never.” He swoops in and kisses me hard and long, probably tasting the copious amount of alcohol I allowed past my lips last night. But still. This is nice. And an unexpected wake-up.
I hum, my hangover forgotten, my libido raging as I circle his bare shoulders and trap him in my thighs. “I’m blaming the cocktail-tasting session you forced on me.”
He huffs. “Sure. You’d better check in with your friends.”
“Soon.”
He breaks away, and I grumble. “Your phone’s been ringing. I would have answered, but I’m not sure I want to talk to your ex.” Another hard kiss before he breaks away and walks off.
I shoot up to my elbows and pay for it. Fuck, the pain. I clutch my head. “Why’s Nick calling me?”
“I was wondering the same thing.”
I cringe and throw the sheets back, going in search of my phone. “I haven’t got the energy to deal with sarcasm.” I zigzag all the way to the lounge and find my mobile on the coffee table, cool air spreading across my front. My naked front. Just knickers. Groaning at the three missed calls, I clear them and go to the kitchen, perching on a stool. “Would you mind filling in the blanks?” I ask Jude’s back as he stands in front of his open fridge. My eyes drop down to his boxers. His arse. His thighs.
The door closes and he turns with some oranges in his hand. “I received a call at four minutes past midnight.” He dumps them on a chopping board. “It didn’t take long to figure out you were out-of-your-mind drunk. So when I finally got some sense out of you, I broke all speed limits from here to London and found you and your two silly mates performing dance moves that I’m pretty sure are illegal.”
Oh God, what were we doing?
Jude pulls a juicer out of a cupboard and plugs it in. “After being groped and given an ear-bashing about my apparent anger issues and life choices”—his head cocks accusingly—“I got you all in the car and was forced to call Charley’s husband to find out where they live because none of you could remember.”
“Oh.”
“He looked about as happy as I felt.” He starts feeding oranges into the juicer, his reproachful eyes on my wilting form. “He was even more thrilled when Abbie threw up all over the hallway and woke the baby up with her singing.”
“Oh dear.”
“And Charley fell up the stairs and woke the other one.”
“Sounds chaotic.”
Jude flicks the button for the juicer, and it roars to life. The sound is torture on my delicate being. And he knows it. I close my eyes and cover my ears, waiting for him to turn the damn thing off. “Abbie stayed at their place, and I brought you here. I didn’t want you choking on your own vomit or anything.” He pours some juice and slides it across to me. “You don’t deserve it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, genuinely feeling it. It sounds like he had quite a night, and I’m certainly paying for it. “I don’t know what happened. Forgive me?”
“Maybe.” He leans on the counter. “How will you make it up to me?”
“However you want. Name it.” I drink some of the juice, purring my appreciation.
“You might regret that.” Pouring himself some, he downs it and swills the glass under the tap.
“I don’t regret anything.”
His small smile is knowing as he puts the glass in the dishwasher. “That’s reassuring. Get dressed. My biggest little brother’s turned up. I want you to meet him.”
I cough over my glass. Meet one of his brothers? “Jude, I’m nursing a pretty horrific hangover. I must look atrocious.” What will he think? And isn’t that in the realms of very serious? Is this very serious? Idiot.
“You look perfect.” He reaches for my hair and pushes it back over my shoulder. “But you smell gross.”
“Thanks.”
“Go get a shower. I’ll meet you in the Piano Bar. It’s on the right past reception.” He wanders off, raking a hand through his waves as he goes, making every muscle on his back undulate. Is he punishing me?
“No sex?” I call.
He looks over his shoulder. “Oh, baby, you’re getting it so hard later.”
“Don’t tease me.”
He shakes his head and disappears, and I grab my phone, calling Abbie. She doesn’t answer, so I try Charley. The call connects. But it isn’t Charley.
“Hi, Lloyd,” I chirp, folding over the counter, without the energy to hold myself upright.
He grunts, unhappy, and the next minute Charley’s on the line. “I need to remember that hangovers are no fun when you’ve got kids.”
“Are they ever fun?”
“When you can lie in bed feeling sorry for yourself all day, they’re way more fun than the hell I’m in now.”
“How’s Abbie?”
“Green.”
“And Lloyd?”
“Not talking to us. He just asked me why I’ve an appointment confirmation for a breast augmentation in our shared inbox.”
I snort. “Oh my God.”
“And you’re starting golf lessons next Monday.”
“What?”
“It’s all slowly coming back to me. I’ll update you as and when the information lands. Fuck!” she gasps. “You’re with him.”
“He’s not happy either.”
“God, we’re such disappointments. Elijah! No, don’t eat Aunty Abbie’s lipstick. I’ve got to go. I think I might throw up again, and I need to clean the hallway carpet.”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“We didn’t see Nick last night, did we?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“He’s been calling me.”
“Maybe he heard you’re shacked up with the richest, fittest man in England.” She hangs up, and I shudder. Fuck, I hope not. My phone rings a second later.
“Oh my God, I think I’m dying,” Abbie groans.
“How the hell did we get so drunk?” I’m blaming my lunchtime tasting session, which means this is all Jude’s fault.
“Copious amounts of cocktails. You needed it after an encounter with that prickly thing.”
“Katherine,” I gasp. “Shit, I forgot about her.”
“You see, there are some benefits to complete obliteration.”
I rub at my pounding head. “I’m not drinking again.”
“Me either. I want to dislike Jude Fuckboy Harrison, but it feels wrong, given we’d probably still be trying to remember where we live if it wasn’t for him.”
“He wants me to meet his brother.”
“Ohh, that sounds serious. Do fuckboys usually introduce their fuck buddies to their brothers?”
“Stop it.”
“I’ve got to go. I think I’m going to throw up, and Lloyd will never talk to me again if I don’t make it to a toilet this time.” The line goes dead, and I place my mobile down on the counter, wondering why the hell Nick’s called me. Is it just Nick being Nick, still hoping? Or has he found out I’m seeing someone? I could message and ask. But I really don’t want to.
So I go take a shower instead and get dressed in last night’s clothes, using my lip and cheek stick to try and make myself look less dead. I inspect myself in the mirror, roughing up my waves and blinking rapidly to try and moisten my dry eyes. Eye drops. I need eye drops. Would Jude have eye drops? I pout and open one of the cupboards under the sink, recoiling at the amount of man products in there.
Crouching, I scan the masses of shower gels, lotions, and potions, sending a mental thanks to the eye drop gods when I spot a bottle. I pluck it out, faltering when something catches my eye.
A box of pills. I reach for it and read the label. “Antidepressants?” I quickly put the box back, shut the door, and stand up straight, staring forward, my delicate head spinning. He suffers with depression? I’m a fuckup. Biting my lip, I come over so guilty, but also empathy steams forward. He lost both his parents so close together. It’s no wonder. Does he still take them? Need them?
I can’t ask. But . . .
Full of shame and unable to stop my curiosity, I crouch and open the cupboard again, checking inside the box. There are four strips of pills, and only two have been taken from one strip. I scan the label on the box that details Jude’s name, his address. The date. My gut twists, my worry and uncertainty unstoppable. He was prescribed these last month?
I jump when my phone dings, stuffing the strips in the box and putting them back, closing the cupboard.
Did you fall back into bed?
I quickly reply, before getting up close and personal with my reflection, putting in the eye drops and wiping away the trails down my cheeks. Then I take a deep breath and head downstairs.
In my cream slip evening dress.
I roll my eyes to myself as I follow the signs to the Piano Bar, nervous as shit, and enter the stark white space. Even the grand piano is a glossy white wood. Jude’s sitting on the far side of the bar in a huge midnight-blue velvet chair, laughing. I momentarily forget where I am and what I’m doing here, captured by the head-spinning magnificence of him. Right now, he doesn’t look like a man who suffers with anything except being irresistible. But flashes of his anger, the pills, and his apish reactions say otherwise. Beautiful. Complicated. A work of art that you need to look closer at to see that, actually, it’s quite messy up close.
Eventually gathering my thoughts, I make my way over, taking in the man opposite him. He’s a looker too, his hair as thick as Jude’s but shorter and darker. He clocks me, his smile knowing, and his sudden diversion of attention has Jude craning his neck to find me.
“I guess this is her.” Jude’s brother stands and steps around the white table between them, as Jude stands too.
“This is her.” He smiles mildly. “Amelia, this is my biggest little brother, Casey.”
“Amelia.” Casey kisses both my cheeks. “You’re quite a surprise.”
What am I supposed to say to that? I look at Jude, and he shrugs. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Casey looks down my front. “Nice dress.”
I die a thousand deaths. “I didn’t expect to be here this morning.”
“Sit,” Jude says, lowering. I join them and accept the coffee Jude pours me, smiling my thanks.
“Yeah, I heard you had a heavy night last night.”
I throw Jude a disbelieving stare. He shrugs again. “Your brother’s embellishing.”
Jude snorts into his cup, and Casey laughs. “What do you do for a living, Amelia?” he asks.
“I’m a financial adviser,” I tell him, trying to keep my frown at bay. “It’s utterly boring.”
“And how did you two meet?”
So we’re skipping foreplay, are we? No gentle ease into conversation. I look at Jude, curious. He hasn’t shared that key piece of information, or what I do for a living? Because surely they’re among the first things a loved one would ask if you’ve declared you’ve met someone. How did you meet? Where did you meet? What does she do? Jude peeks up at me, remaining silent, relaxed in his chair as he cocks an elbow on the arm and an ankle on his knee.
“I was here with friends for a spa day,” I reply.
“Nice.”
“It was a birthday gift from my friend.”
“Generous friend.”
I laugh. “She got it for a bargain in the promotion.”
He frowns. “Promotion?”
Jude shifts in his chair, clearing his throat. “For the five-year anniversary,” he says. “We did a special offer on a limited number of spa days.”
“I see,” Casey muses, interested. “Since when do you run special offers?”
“Since now.” Jude’s tone is flat, a certain warning look in his eyes. I study him, curious. Tetchy. Why?
Casey backs off, his face thoughtful. “Sounds like you got more than a spa day for your money.”
“Casey,” Jude breathes, his look definitely darkening. Am I missing something? I feel like there’s a conversation going on that I’m not a part of.
“So you met on your bargain spa day and ...?”
“We met again when Arlington hosted an annual finance conference.” I’ll skip over the bits in between.
“And you host business conferences now too?” Casey says, amused. “Bargain spa days, boring business functions. Mother would turn in her grave.”
I sit back in my chair, wary when Jude’s jaw rolls. “Don’t go there,” he cautions, and suddenly the box of pills I just found in his cupboard are front and centre of my mind.
Casey gives Jude a cocked brow. “It sounds like the stars were aligned and you were destined to meet.” The atmosphere is swiftly frosty, the brothers glaring at each other. “I hope it works out for you, brother.”
Jude leans forward and takes his coffee. My phone ringing couldn’t have come at a better time.
“Excuse me.” I stand, and the men rise too. “I need to take this.” I wander off, looking back to see Jude glaring at me now. He thinks it’s Nick. God, please don’t be Nick. I rummage through my bag and breathe in when I see Mum’s calling. “Hi, Mum.”
“Amelia, you sound dreadful.”
“I only said hello,” I say over a laugh.
“Are you hungover?”
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“What time are you coming over?”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“But you always visit on Sundays. Grandma and Grandpa are here.”
“I’ll come by after work tomorrow.”
“Oh. Well, what are you doing?”
“Working,” I breathe, exasperated. “What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?”
“You’ve not been yourself lately.”
I look back at the entrance of the Piano Bar. “I promise I’m fine.”
She hums, obviously unsure. As am I at this moment in time. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa can make it then too.”
“Make it? They live around the corner. They’re at your house most days.”
“Don’t be smart, it doesn’t suit you.”
“I know, Dad tells me all the time.”
“Goodbye.” Mum cuts the call so she doesn’t hear my exasperated deep breath, and I head back to Jude and Casey, not sure if I want to put myself between the two brothers again. There’s definitely something going on between them.
“A pussy is just a pussy,” Jude says, and I stop just shy of the pillar that’s between me and them, hiding me. “It’s the connection that makes it explosive. She’s fucking brilliant, Casey. I just didn’t expect it, and now I’m ... well.” He sighs. “I feel fucked, to be honest.”
“Jesus, Jude, what the hell have you got yourself into?”
I flinch, staring at my feet, bypassing all the lovely things he just said and homing in on his tired, beaten, final words. He feels fucked. Why?
“You’re the eldest,” Casey says. “You’re supposed to be the most stable.”
Antidepressants. Do his brothers know? And why the hell does Jude being involved with me deem him unstable?
“Just let me figure this out.” Jude’s voice is quiet. Thoughtful.
“I hope you do.”
“I will,” he grates. “She’s worth it.”
What the hell is he figuring out? Does Casey know about Katherine? The questions circle as I walk back a few paces, making sure the clicks of my heels are loud enough, before making myself known. Jude stands, as does Casey. It’s an effort to wipe the unease from my expression. “Sorry, it was my mother.”
Casey nods, putting his hand out to Jude and hauling him in for a hug when he takes it. “I’m back for a few weeks until my next charter.”
“Have you heard from our brother?”
“No,” Casey says, his face telling me he’s wary. “You?”
“I told him to call you.” Jude reaches for me and pulls me close, and I don’t miss Casey’s interested eyes. “He’s got himself in a spot of bother.”
Casey laughs. “Standard Rhys. What’s he done now?”
“Got himself a sex tape situation.” Jude shakes his head.
I baulk, and Casey laughs. “Fucking hell. Are you surprised?”
“He was in Dublin, so I flew over on Monday for a few days. Tried to figure it out with his PR team.”
His PR team? What does he do? “And did you?” Casey asks.
“They’re slapping injunctions left and right. Rhys is rebelling. I stuck around for a few days, but I can’t deal with his dramas right now.” He casts me a sideways look that I read into and don’t like. He can’t deal with his brother’s drama because he has his own to deal with. Brilliant. So that’s where Jude was? In Dublin trying to sort out his brother? “He’ll call me when he’s thinking straight. Always does.”
“Well.” Casey faces me and bows. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Amelia.”
“You too.”
He comes at me and kisses my cheeks. “Don’t let my big brother ruin you.”
“Fuck off, Casey,” Jude breathes, reclaiming me and pulling me into his side protectively.
I don’t want to ruin this.
I have so many questions. But topping the pile: Does Casey know about Katherine?
Casey leaves, having one last look over his shoulder before rounding the corner out of the bar.
“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with your brother.” I have more questions on that, naturally, but my head is kind of busy trying to figure out what’s going on with Jude.
“Don’t be. I’m always dealing with his shit.” He turns me into him. “How are you feeling?”
She’s brilliant.
I’m fucked.
What have you got yourself into, Jude?
“Good,” I say, smiling. It’s a lie. I’m feeling apprehensive, my questions returning and multiplying.
Jude hunkers down to get to eye level with me, frowning. “You sure?”
I nod, smile wider. I don’t know if he’s buying it, and the small tilt of his head in question confirms it. “Feeling a little jaded.”
“Can I interest you in a Hey Jude?”
My cheeks balloon, bile rising, mixing with the other sickly feeling I’ve got going on in my tummy. Something just feels ... off.
“Maybe some fresh air,” he suggests, holding his hand out to me. Taking it is natural. “Come on.”
Jude walks us out the back of Arlington Hall past the Kitchen Garden, quiet, as I try to fight back the unease. He constantly smiles down at my heels on the uneven ground. “Did you have a nice evening before you lost all memory of it?” he asks.
Now’s my opportunity to tell him about Katherine. Except I bail. What good will come of it? “It was lovely.” Until your ex-lover showed up.
“Where did you go?”
“Amazonico. It’s our favourite.” I will the atmosphere to fuck off, the small talk just not cutting it.
“Okay,” he says on an exasperated sigh, stopping at the entrance to the maze and facing me. “There’s something up. What’s going on?”
Tell him you heard him! “Nothing.” I smile, making sure this one is convincing as I reach for his lips, kissing him. “Like I said, just jaded.” My phone starts ringing, and Nick couldn’t have made his timing any worse. His name glows on the screen, and the atmosphere drops from cold to icy.
“Want to get that?” Jude asks, a certain edge of impatience to his tone.
I look at him tiredly. “Do you think I do?”
“You tell me.”
“Oh my God, are we about to have another disagreement, because I don’t think I’ve got the energy for you at the moment.” I hit reject with a forceful thumb, watching as Jude’s chest begins to pulse from where he’s trying in vain to maintain steady breathing.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need to fix your passive-aggressive possessiveness,” I snap, turning on my heels and walking away across the lawn, my stupid damn heels sinking in, forcing me to stop and remove them.
“Did you see him last night?” Jude grates.
“No, Jude, I did not see him last night.” I start to walk on, but stop, whirling around and pointing one of my shoes at him. “I saw Katherine, actually,” I declare. He recoils. “I saw her at the restaurant, and she made a point of saying hello, if you know what I mean.” The sarcasm in my smile is potent. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want us to argue again . What the hell was she doing in London?”
He exhales tiredly, rubbing his temples. “She lives closer to London than Oxford.”
I would ask why on earth she travels to Arlington Hall to work out, dine, and drink, but that would be a really stupid question. My phone starts ringing again. “Fuck off!” I yell at it, trudging off in no particular direction. “Don’t follow me,” I snap back at him, reaching for my head and rubbing. I’m too hungover for this bullshit.
His huff of disbelief smacks me in the back only a second before his body. A strong arm circles my waist from behind, he lifts me from my feet, and I sag in his hold, exhausted by us. Fight. Make up. Over and over.
Jude walks into the maze and follows the sea of green, turning corners, seeming to be heading into the unknown. How apt. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” I mutter, held tight against his chest, his strides long and purposeful.
“Because you talk shit.”
I baulk at the trees.
“Why don’t you ever listen to me, Amelia?”
“I do listen.” I start to wriggle in his arms, peeling his forearm away from my stomach. “And that’s how I heard you tell your brother you feel fucked.”
He stops dead in his tracks, and, surprisingly, he releases me. I don’t give him a chance to explain. Like I said, I’m too hungover to deal with Jude Harrison today, so I turn around and push past him, walking back the way we came. I think. It all looks the same. I turn left and meet a wall. Back up.
Into his chest.
I’m spun around, the backs of my thighs are grabbed, and I’m hauled up his body. His mouth is quickly on mine, and I’m instantly swept away from my frustrations to that unbelievable place where my head empties and my body fills with lust. I return his force, kissing him hard, pushing my body into his. My outlet.
And I need an outlet right now.
I scramble to tear his T-shirt off, forcing him to put me down. My dress is ripped up my body and thrown aside. I yank open the fly of his jeans. He turns me and pushes me down to my hands and knees, coming in behind me.
Angry foreplay over.
He moves my knickers aside and slams into me on a yell, and my hands clench fistfuls of grass, my head dropping back as the feeling of him filling me to the hilt dominates my mind.
“Move,” I demand. Smash this uncertainty out of me. Show me why we’re good together.
“Beg,” he rasps, taking my hips. “Beg me.”
“Please,” I whisper, my walls pulsing, greedy, desperate for friction. “Please, please, please.”
“Oh, baby.” He strokes down the centre of my spine. “And again.”
“Please!”
“Are we good together, Amelia?”
“Yes!”
He slides out slowly. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes!”
Back in hard. “Beg again.”
“I beg you,” I grate, my vision clouding.
“Yes,” he breathes, slamming his palm down hard on my arse before he lets loose, pounding into me, constantly shushing me when I cry out. My God, he’s powerful. So deep. The pain and pleasure are bending my head. My release steaming forward. His slick cock glides in and out easily. The perfect fit.
“I’m coming, Amelia,” he warns, his pace increasing more. “Fuck, I’m coming.”
I yell, feeling him swell, and it hits me between my legs like a lightning bolt, making my knees give. I collapse to the grass, Jude coming down with me, and gasp for air as he grinds into my arse, soaking up every last bit of pleasure.
“Shit,” I whisper. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m mad at him.
But isn’t that the beauty of us? Even hopping mad with each other, we still create magic.
“I feel fucked because you’ve caught me by surprise, Amelia,” he pants in my ear. “I feel fucked because you literally take up every bit of my mind. Constantly. I’m fucked because I can’t focus on anything but you.” He turns his mouth into my ear as I continue to pant across the grass, making the blades quiver along with my body in the aftermath of my high. “Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”
I nod, even if I’m not entirely sure. Why does that make him fucked? Jude lifts his hips, sliding out of me, and rolls me onto my back. His body settles over mine, and he holds my face with both palms. “I like whatever this is,” he says reverently, watching me struggling for breath beneath him. “What we have. Us. I really like it.”
Ask about the pills.
“Me too,” I whisper, bottling it. What do we have?
It’s a stupid question. I’m falling in love with him.
“Good.” Jude drops his mouth closer to mine in silent demand, and of course, I obey, circling his shoulders and kissing him. “You’re staying the night,” he says around my mouth, rolling to his back and taking me with him.
“Stop it.” I push myself up so I’m sitting on his lap. “I can’t stay every night.”
“Why not?”
“Because I live in London. Work in London.”
“But I miss you so badly when you’re gone, baby.” He juts his bottom lip out, and I smile. “Would you ever consider moving out of the city?”
I still, my brief contentment disappearing. “What?” Like, give up my job to move closer to him?
Jude’s eyes widen. “Whoa, wait,” he says, locking his hands down on my thighs to stop me running. “Do not read too much into that question. I’m not asking you to give up anything, especially not your career.”
My God, he will never know how much I needed to hear that. “Well, that’s a relief.”
He rolls his eyes. “I want to be close to you.”
“You’re pretty close now.”
“All the time, Amelia.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Don’t mock me.”
I lower and kiss him gently. “We’ll figure it out,” I say, truly meaning it. And we have plenty of time to.
Jude hauls me down and hugs me. “I’m so glad I met you.”
It seems ridiculous to ask why. But ... it’s an odd statement to make. “Are you okay?”
“I . . .” He clears his throat. “I think I’m . . .”
I still, wondering . . .
“Fuck, I don’t know how to say it.” He growls to himself. “I think I’m—”
“I’m lost!” Someone yells, the kid’s voice close by, coming from over the top of the hedge running down the side of us.
“Fuck,” Jude gasps, diving up, taking me with him. I’m in a flat-out panic, wondering what the hell I should be doing as I stand naked, waiting for someone to appear. “Get dressed, Amelia,” he hisses, kicking my dress toward me as he yanks his jeans up his lovely long, strong legs.
Right, yes, get dressed. I snatch my dress up and fight my way into it, getting my arms all tangled in the straps. “Shit, I’m stuck,” I mumble, turning in circles, trying to get my dress down my body. The sound of a knicker-melting laugh suddenly has me forgetting what I’m panicking about, and I stop, listening to Jude chuckling.
“Come here,” he says, helping me unravel my dress and get it on properly. “There.”
I blow my hair out of my face and press my lips together, restraining my amusement, as Jude cups my cheek with a hand, his smile adorable. Looking at me closely, like ...
I shake my head, not letting my thoughts go there. “Oops,” I whisper, and he laughs, moving in and kissing me softly.
“Ewww!”
With Jude still holding my face, we peek to the left and see a boy, perhaps ten years old, his cheeks ballooned like he’s about to vomit.
I laugh, the kid dashes off, and Jude sweeps me off my feet, carrying me out of the maze across his arms. I cling around his shoulders, studying his profile.
“You’re staying the night,” he says again, matter-of-fact.
“No, I—”
“Are you arguing with me?”
I grin and let my head rest on his shoulder, absorbing him in his entirety, and when he turns his lips to me, kissing me gently, something happens in my chest. It’s a beautiful warm feeling, and I know I’m not mistaking what it means.
Oh . . . dear.