Chapter 10 #2
I should have shut it down and made it clear I wasn’t interested, but the whiskey had loosened my inhibitions, and I found myself wondering if maybe this was what I needed.
Someone uncomplicated. Someone who didn’t make me feel like I was constantly walking a tightrope between wanting too much and getting nothing.
Someone who wasn’t Jude.
“Maybe,” I said, which was stupid and unfair, but I was drunk enough not to care.
Ryan took that as permission. He leaned in, one hand coming up to rest on my forearm. The touch was warm and confident and nothing like the way Jude and I touched each other. “So, what’s it like working with that crowd? They seem pretty weird.”
“They are.” I could smell his cologne. It was too strong. “But good people.”
“But you’re not part of it yet.”
That was such an accurate observation that I almost flinched. Was I so obviously the outsider? So clearly removed?
I glanced at him, trying to figure out if he was just perceptive or if I was that far out of my league with the crew. “It takes time.”
“I get that.” His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist. “But what I mean is like, you seem pretty normal. You don’t seem as crazy as they are.”
Was that meant to be a compliment?
“Yeah,” a familiar voice said from behind me. “We’re fucking insane.”
I went rigid. Ryan’s hand was still on my wrist, and suddenly that contact felt like a live wire.
Jude appeared at my shoulder, close enough for me to feel his body heat, and his presence, tall and looming, sent a shiver down my spine. He looked completely relaxed, one hand in his pocket, the other holding an empty glass, but there was something threatening in the way he smiled at Ryan.
“Oh, shit!” Ryan’s enthusiasm kicked up several notches. “You’re the other hunter, right?”
Jude’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Ryan’s grip on my wrist loosened slightly. “I was just telling Ash how great your act is.”
“Were you?” Jude’s gaze dropped to where Ryan’s hand still rested against my skin. “That’s generous of you.”
The tension stretched between the three of us. Ryan seemed to sense it because he released my wrist entirely and took half a step back. At least one person in this conversation had their wits about them.
“I mean it,” Ryan said, trying to recover. “The whole crew is talented, but you two are something else.”
“Appreciate it.” Jude’s tone made it clear he didn’t. He shifted, positioning himself between us. Not obviously, but enough that Ryan had to take another step back to maintain the conversation. “You should catch the show again sometime. We’re better on dry nights.”
The dismissal was obvious. Ryan glanced between us again, and his gaze locked on mine, searching for answers I didn’t want to give. When it became clear I wasn’t going to send Jude away, Ryan took another step away. “Well, uh, I should probably get back to my friends.”
“Probably,” Jude agreed.
Ryan hesitated another second before retreating into the crowd.
I watched him disappear, then turned to Jude. It was easier for me to find my voice when it was just the two of us. “What the fuck was that?”
“Could ask you the same thing.” He kept his voice low even though his eyes were narrowed. He raked his gaze over my body, settling not on my face, but on my arm where Ryan had touched.
“I was having a conversation with someone. You know, like normal people do.”
“You let normal people grab you?”
“He touched my arm, Jude. Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic.” Jude stepped closer, invading my space. I’ve always been a big guy, always the strongest and generally the tallest, but Jude used his height like a weapon. It made him seem larger than life and intimidating, even to me. “I’m being clear.”
“About what, exactly?” I kept my voice down but couldn’t keep the edge out of it.
Jude swallowed hard, his throat working through words I knew he’d never say.
Something inside me snapped.
I grabbed his shirt, twisting the fabric in my fist just like I had during the photoshoot. Then I moved, yanking him along behind me toward the back of the bar. He stumbled, caught off guard for once, but didn’t resist as I shouldered past the crowd and shoved open the bathroom door.
***
The bathroom door cracked against the wall loud enough that it should’ve brought management running, but Murphy’s was too loud and the patrons too drunk to notice.
I shoved Jude into the cramped space, letting go of his shirt only when I knew he’d have to stumble to catch himself. Then I locked the door and grabbed him again.
“You don’t get to pull that possessive bullshit,” I growled, pushing him harder against the tile. “You don’t get to act like you own me.”
“Don’t I?” Jude’s breath came fast against my grip. His back was against the wall, but he wasn’t fighting me. He wasn’t even trying. “Then why’d you drag me in here, Ash? Why’d you get pissed when I scared that asshole off?”
Because I wanted him to.
The thought hit me like a fist to the gut. Some fucked-up part of me thrived on Jude’s jealousy, craved it like oxygen. It was twisted proof that whatever this was mattered to him beyond getting off in dark corners and parking lots.
“That’s what I thought.” Jude’s voice dropped lower, rougher.
“Fuck you,” I spat, but my hands were still fisted in his shirt. Still holding him against the wall when I should’ve been walking away. “You think I liked that? You chasing off guys like you have any claim?”
“You did like it.”
“I fucking hated it.”
Liar.
I hated that it wasn’t real. I hated that Jude could act possessive without actually possessing anything, that he could scare off other guys while refusing to be mine.
I wanted labels and promises and all the messy shit that terrified me.
I wanted him to stop playing games and just fucking commit to whatever this chemical reaction between us was becoming.
Say it. Tell him you want more than parking lot fucks and hookups in dark places.
But admitting that? Saying it out loud?
That was how you got yourself destroyed.
My jaw clenched, and I deflected instinctively. It was easier to make him seem like the irrational one, especially when I knew it would at least get me one thing I craved. “You’re reading into things, Jude.”
“Bullshit.” Jude’s hand found my belt and tugged. “You’re practically begging me to claim you. If you didn’t want it, or you wanted that guy to fuck you, you would have stopped me.”
I hated that he was right and that my body didn’t fucking care. It betrayed me, and heat flooded through me at the challenge in Jude’s voice.
Jude’s fingers worked my buckle loose. “That’s what I thought.”
He shoved me backward, and I let him, let the momentum carry me until my spine hit the wall beside the sinks. Cold tile bit through my shirt, but then he was on me, all lean muscle and fury, his body pressed against mine and I lost all ability to care or think.
“I know you’re trying to play me,” he growled. “So, you think this is a game, huh?”
It was a good fucking question, and one I didn’t have an answer for. Not that wouldn’t rip my heart and soul open and bare too much. I was playing him; even my rage was a cry for attention and a messed-up, desperate means of keeping myself in his orbit.
Instead of answering verbally, I reached out to grab his throat. Not hard enough to choke but enough to feel his pulse hammering under my palm.
Jude’s eyes went dark, pupils blowing wide as his fingers trembled against my fly. I knew how much Jude loved it when I touched him like that. He was a slut for it, and seeing the way his tongue darted out to swipe at his semi-parted lips drove me wild.
I tightened my grip just slightly, felt him swallow against my hand, and watched his expression shift from furious to something hungrier, defiant and needy. Jude needed someone who could put him in his place, and I was all too happy to be of service.
And just like that, it stopped being about Ryan or any of the games we’d been playing for weeks. It became about us and this tip of power and dominance. The way we collided. The way neither of us could walk away.
His free hand went to my throat, mirroring my grip in a last show of control, and we stood there, locked together, neither giving ground. I could feel his cock hard against my hip, could feel my own straining against my jeans, and I knew my fingers were squeezing harder than his.
“You can’t have it both ways,” he said. His voice was thick with need, the words catching in his throat, snagging around the bruises I was casually pressing in. “You can’t fuck me against a wall and then let some random asshole put his hands on you.”
He was a jealous, possessive little thing and, fuck, I loved it.
I loved it even more when I tore him down from his pedestal and reminded him that he wasn’t in control here.
“I do what I want.”
His grip tightened, making me gasp. “No, you—”
I surged forward, broke his hold, and shoved him hard enough that he stumbled back a step.
Before he could recover, I was on him, spinning him around and pressing his face against the wall.
Just like that first time, my hand went to the back of his neck, holding him there while my other hand worked at his belt.
Jude thrashed against the wall enough to convince himself he was trying to break free, but we both knew it was an act. He wanted this too much.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I said into his ear. I rolled my hips against his ass, letting him feel what he had instigated and what was in store.
“Fuck you.”
I laughed at his determination and humped him again. “I’m gonna make you beg for it this time, Jude.”