Chapter 20 #3
He lets out a breathy laugh, nods. “Yeah.”
Silence settles between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
It feels familiar, like slipping into an older version of myself—the girl who used to fall asleep beside him every night, tracing constellations on his shoulder with her fingertips.
Even when we were fumbling, even when we were young and stupid, we were content. We were happy.
It was so pure. So easy. And knowing it was stolen from us...something inside me cracks. We could be married by now. Maybe a kid. Maybe a whole quiet life together. Who knows? I swallow around the ache.
Jude’s eyes flick to mine, and something in his expression shifts. Like he can feel exactly where my mind went. “Emma…” he whispers. “There’s something I—I need to tell you. About why I left.”
My breath freezes.
He sits up a little, back against the wooden headboard, running a hand through his messy hair. He looks younger like this. Raw. Exposed.
“I know I told you some bullshit back then,” he says quietly. “Told you I wasn’t ready for a serious commitment anymore. That I needed to pursue music...all that crap.” He huffs a humorless breath. “But that wasn’t it. Not even close.”
I lift my knees, wrapping my arms around them as I turn toward him. “Then what happened?”
He stares at his hands like he’s remembering. “If you remember, I went to LA,” he starts. “For a party. Some industry thing that Nolan invited me to. I thought it was my chance to get noticed.”
My chest tightens. I already know this is about to hurt.
“Well, I tried some hard drugs for the very first time,” he says, voice barely audible. “And I blacked out for a good while, there.” His throat works as he swallows.
My blood chills. I remember being worried about him that night because he wouldn’t text me back.
Jude’s voice breaks. “I—Emma, I killed a man that night. When I was twenty years old. Just weeks before breaking up with you. I came home and slept beside you knowing that I was a murderer.”
The room goes still, and my lungs struggle to work.
He drags his hand down his face and shakes his head.
“After I sort of gained consciousness and realized that I was covered in blood…” His breath trembles.
“I lost my shit. But Nolan and Adriana told me that it was just some guy who tried taking advantage of me while I was fucked up. He told me he’d taken care of it since I had every right to defend myself. So they covered it up.”
The world feels like it’s tilting.
“They told me,” he continues, voice hoarse, “that they could bury every trace of what happened. And me, being a stupid and scared kid, agreed. They said we’d make a killing with my talent and that we’d forget about it and move on.
That everything would be okay.” He snorts.
“Sure, I have enough money in my account to last me for life now. Except I look like a hollow shell everywhere I go. But people still love the music. Lost souls make the most beautiful sounds, apparently.”
A cold, hollow rage begins simmering in my chest.
“That’s why I left you,” Jude whispers, finally meeting my eyes. His look is agonized. “Because I knew what kind of world they were dragging me into. That I was already getting hooked on drugs. And I couldn’t take you there with me. I couldn’t let you get sucked into that nightmare.”
Tears burn behind my eyelids. “So you broke up with me,” I whisper. “Just like that.”
His jaw clenches. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I tried to make it clean. Tried to make you hate me, or move on, or...something. But I never stopped missing you. Not for a single fucking day.”
I reach for his hand, and he grasps it immediately.
He lets out a shaky exhale. “I thought if I stayed away, you’d be safe. But then Nolan used me more. And more. Until I didn’t even recognize myself. And every time it got worse, I thought about calling you. Coming back.” His mouth trembles. “But I didn’t want you seeing what I’d turned into.”
I slide closer until our shoulders touch. “You didn’t turn into anything, Jude. You survived. All these years.”
He closes his eyes like the words have an impact. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers.
I stare at my hands in my lap for a moment, twisting the edge of the blanket between my fingers. Then I take a breath, feeling it tremble. “Do you…” My voice comes out small. “Do you remember telling me you loved me? At the hotel?”
Jude stills completely. His brows pull together, confusion flickering through his tired eyes, and something in my chest twists hard. I look down quickly, cheeks burning.
“It’s okay,” I say in a rush. “You were exhausted, and high, and—”
“Emma,” he murmurs.
Before I can finish embarrassing myself further, he shifts closer, his thigh brushing mine beneath the sheets. He lifts his hand almost cautiously and cups my chin, guiding my face back to his.
His thumb strokes my cheek, once, warm and calming. “I don’t remember saying it,” he admits quietly, “but that doesn’t matter. It’s still true. It’s been true since the day I walked out on you.”
The words hit me hard, forcing a single tear to fall.
He leans in carefully, giving me time to pull away.
I don’t.
His lips brush mine, lightly at first, like he’s afraid I’ll regret this. Or maybe like he’s the one who might.
Then I kiss him back. And seven years collapse in on themselves, as if they were never there at all.
His lips part mine, his tongue sweeping in and stealing my breath.
He shifts his body closer as he pulls me down with him.
His fingers skim below my tank, slowly, trailing up to my breasts with a touch so tender it makes my heart ache.
I moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.
All I can think is...this is Jude. This is the man I’ve always loved and always compared others to. No one was ever good enough because they weren’t him.
His muscular arms tuck me beneath him, our lips remaining locked the entire time. My stomach flips when he wedges my thighs open with his knee and settles his weight over me, his arousal straining through his boxers. The pressure alone makes my eyes roll back.
God, I forgot what it felt like—
No.
I never forgot.
I grind up against him, desperate for more friction, more connection, more of the wildfire that only Jude can strike to life in me.
His lips trail down my throat, teeth grazing, breath hot and feeling so much like home that I want to cry.
Every nip sends a lightning bolt of sensation straight through me.
And even after everything he’s endured, everything he’s become, his touch still makes me feel impossibly, stupidly safe.
His hand slips between us, fingers pressing against my clit through my shorts. His breath falters at the way my body reacts. A needy sound escapes me before I can swallow it. It’s embarrassing and helpless and...honest.
He strips me slowly, lifting my tank over my head, and tugging my shorts down my legs until I’m bare beneath him. When he shoves his boxers down and I see him again, my breath catches. He settles over me again, sliding a careful finger inside. He groans when he feels how drenched I already am.
“I need you, now,” I whisper, my voice shaking with need and fear and pain. “I’ve missed you so much. Please.”
He groans softly, kissing me with so much love I want to burst. “I know, sweetheart. I need to do this first, or I’ll hurt you. You know that.”
I do.
Too well.
I grin despite myself and drag him back into a kiss as he adds another finger, then a third—stretching me, preparing me with that same patience he had the first night he ever touched me like this.
When he pulls his hand away, he lines himself up, and I lift my hips to meet him.
His cock slides through my wetness, and my back arches helplessly.
His arms tense on either side of me as he pushes in, slow and controlled.
Halfway in, I whimper and claw at his arms, overwhelmed by the fullness I’ve missed for so long.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmurs, voice so soft and respectful it reminds me—
The night on his dock under the stars.
Me, no longer sore from my first time.
Him, still so gentle and patient.
I had stared at the stars over his shoulders while he made love to me for the second time.
I kiss him passionately, and he finally thrusts the rest of the way in. My pussy clenches him, accommodating his size as if remembering it. He drags his length out and pushes back in, ensuring I’m ready, ensuring I’m his again.
“Don’t leave me again,” I whisper before I can even think about it. “Promise me.”
He freezes, just for a breath, and then his eyes lock on mine.
“Emma,” he rasps, but he doesn’t finish his thought.
Instead, his mouth is on mine again, his hips snapping forward with growing urgency.
Every thrust steals another sound from me.
I fist my hands in his hair while he rests his forehead against mine, hitting so deep I see stars bursting behind my eyelids.
“I need this for the rest of my life,” he growls, picking up speed, voice shredded with emotion. “I need you.”
That’s all it takes. My orgasm hits violently, blinding. I cry out his name, clinging to him while he rides me through it.
“Ugh, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he pants, his voice rough with desire, becoming more aggressive. My mouth falls open when he fucks into me harder, his muscles shifting beneath my fingers, every movement a testament to his strength and control.
“Jude,” I gasp, barely able to breathe.
“I’ve loved you since that first night on the dock,” he groans, slamming into me. “I’ve never—”
Thrust
“Stopped—”
Thrust
“Fucking—”
Thrust
“Loving you, Emma.”
I choke on a sob, and my mind shatters.
“There you go, my sweet girl,” he praises, kissing my neck as he continues to slam into me. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t even falter.
I whimper when he bites down on my shoulder, and that seems to drive him into a frenzy. Then he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes.
“Are you on birth control?”
I nod, panting. “Yes.”
His smirk is sinful, dangerous, and wildly possessive. “Good.”
And then he kisses me again before thrusting deep and spilling inside me with a guttural sound that makes my toes curl.
I lock my legs around his waist, holding him there, wanting every moment of being full of him again.
He groans, his forehead against mine, his muscles tightening while he grinds into me, claiming me in every way possible.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so wanted before in my life.
When he’s with me, I don’t feel like my anxiety stands a chance at ripping me apart. With him, I don’t want to make myself small. He’s always been my cure.