Chapter 36 Arden
ARDEN
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I bark, my voice filled with disbelief as I watch Jude toss the contents of my sock drawer onto the bed.
He doesn’t even yell at Dez when the little menace steals a neatly matched pair and sprints from the room.
Dammit, I liked those socks!
“Jude!”
“I’m makin’ room,” he growls, spinning around with his hands on his hips, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
We just exchanged I love yous and now he thinks he can just take over the place? No way.
At least not without a fight.
“No. We are not livin’ together,” I tell him, keeping my expression as annoyed as possible.
He narrows his eyes. “Pretty sure that’s exactly what we’re doing, darlin’, because we sure as hell aren’t roommates, and I ain’t living out of a duffle bag anymore.”
“There’s a perfectly good and empty dresser in the guest room,” I fire back, crossing my arms under my chest, his eyes never leaving mine which is quite the feat because I know how much he loves my boobs.
“Yeah, Tennessee, there is, but that’s not where I’m sleeping every night, is it?”
“Sex is different than sleeping,” I hiss and he grins.
“It is.” He takes a step toward me, and I have to lean back to meet his gaze.
The rich, woodsy scent of his cologne permeates the air around us, and I hate how good he smells.
“But that doesn’t stop you from wakin’ me up in the middle of the night for another orgasm, does it?
Or when you pull my arm around you because you like being weighed down. ”
“Ugh,” I huff, ignoring how immature I sound. “We are not”—I wave my hands around in the air—“doing this right now. This is real relationship stuff and—”
“Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I tease, but I’m not so sure Jude is playing anymore.
“Arden, we’re ready for this and we need this.
I need this. You don’t want some bullshit girlfriend/boyfriend label?
Fine. I’m probably too old for that anyway.
You don’t want to get married? I’m a patient man.
But this?” He motions between us. “I don’t want to pretend that this is anything but me loving you and wanting to build a life with you.
Not because you’re carrying my child and not because I feel like I have to be here. ”
“Then what?” Stepping right into his space, I tilt my head back so I can see his face, so he can see I’m not backing down.
“I told you that day in the parking lot. You’re the only one that sees me, and hell, maybe you’re the only one I let see me. I love you. I want to be here and I want to be with you, so don’t cheapen it and make excuses. We’re doing this and I’m taking a fucking drawer.”
I gape at him because no one in my entire life has ever talked to me like that.
No one’s even dared.
But Jude’s hulking form is one I’ll run toward.
Not away from.
He’s serious; it’s not a game, but that doesn’t make me any less scared.
Because even though I know I’m not my mother and I know Jude isn’t my father, there’s still the niggling of doubt in the back of my mind that, despite the fact that he’s trying to claim physical space in my life, wonders what if he leaves?
Fucking daddy issues.
Facing off with the man I accidentally fell in love with, I stomp past him toward the dresser and rip one of the remaining five drawers out, dumping my folded pajamas onto the floor before slamming it back into its slot.
“Take two.”
JUDE
“Take two.”
Heart pounding in my chest, I don’t think, just close the distance between us and crash my lips over hers. She tastes like mint and victory and fucking mine.
Scooping her up into my arms, I turn for the bed, reveling in the way her nails drag down my neck, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip as I lay her on the mattress.
She’s stunning, her dark hair fanned out over the pillow, her cheeks pink and her lips pouty.
She’s like a dream.
Grabbing the pillow from the other side of the bed, I put it behind her, pulling her shirt up and off, her tits spilling from her bra so I get rid of that too. I kiss and lick down her body, laving her tits as I work her skirt and panties off.
She’s soaked, and I grin because gettin’ her all riled up is the best kind of foreplay. She fights and fights but she just wants to be claimed.
Protected.
Worshipped.
And I’ll make sure it happens all the days of my life.
I can’t stop the rumble of approval at finding her pussy glistening as I push her legs wider, loving the way she doesn’t shy away from my perusal.
“Jude.” My name is a whimper as I sink two fingers inside her, her body already primed and ready to detonate. As much as I’d love to drag this out, I know how much she needs this.
Dragging her leg over my shoulder, I press my lips against her inner thigh until I reach the apex, her clit swollen and needy and mouthwatering.
Sucking her clit into my mouth, I relish her gasp as her hips roll against my mouth, searching for more.
And I give it to her.
Devouring her the way I know she likes it—the way that gets her off when she’s fighting so desperately just to breathe.
To exist.
To quiet the noise that’s gotten so much louder since she’s been pregnant.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her eyes hooded as they meet mine.
As she shatters into a million little pieces, her relief is palpable as she writhes against the sheets, ensuring she gets every ounce of pleasure she’s due.
“That was so good,” she hums, her tits heavy and swollen, her chest flushed and sexy, like a queen presiding over her subjects.
“Maybe but it’s not what you need.”
“No?” she asks, her eyebrow arching as I push myself up on the bed.
“No.”
“What then?”
“You need a good long fuck.”
“And you think that’ll fix my mood?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Then how do you propose we do that?”
“It’s simple. Roll over, baby,” I command, my voice a low rasp, “and get on your knees.”