Chapter 32 #2
Sadness flickers across his eyes for a heartbeat before he masks it with that controlled calm that he's so good at.
Then, before I can say anything more, he leans in.
His lips find mine, the kiss deep and immediate, tongue brushing mine with a sharp, sweet taste of red berries.
He lifts me effortlessly, and my legs tighten instinctively around his waist. I don’t argue as he sinks onto the couch, my body settling into his lap.
I should try to talk more to him. But I’m a slave to his lips, his body, his soul.
I bite back a moan as his hands slide beneath my shirt, tracing my ribs, thumbs brushing over the small of my back.
My fingers curl into his black tee, tugging him closer, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.
I try to think of something to say, to ask, but his mouth moves against mine, silencing me completely.
Maybe that’s his plan. Maybe he’s trying to get me to shut up.
My thoughts scatter, leaving only the desperate, aching need for him.
I can’t get enough of him when we were robbed of so much time together. It isn’t fair.
I grind down, and the hard ridge of his arousal strains against the thick denim of his jeans.
A low, guttural groan vibrates against my mouth, and I swallow it, kissing him deeper.
This. This is the only language we need right now.
The one that lets us forget the thorny, complicated hell waiting for us outside this quiet living room.
Even if I want to talk…I can’t resist this. He’s everything.
His hands slide down, gripping my ass through my yoga pants.
He lifts his hips, meeting my grind with one of his own, a sharp, upward thrust that makes me whimper into his mouth.
The air in my house is quiet, the only sounds are our ragged breathing and the faint, rhythmic crash of the ocean through a cracked window.
My fingers tighten in his hair, and I hear the sharp, metallic click of his belt buckle, followed by the rasp of his zipper. I break the kiss, scrambling off his lap just long enough to pull my top over my head and shove my pants down my legs, kicking them blindly into the dim room.
His hazel eyes darken, drinking me in. He yanks his shirt off, the muscles in his chest and arms shifting under the intricate patterns of his tattoos.
He’s all lean strength and tension. I climb back onto him and straddle his hips.
He moves to slide his hand between us, his fingers seeking to prepare me. But I catch his wrist.
“No.”
He stills, his head tilting, a silent question in his heavy-lidded, lustful gaze.
Why? He’s huge, and I usually need the slow, careful way he opens me up with his fingers.
But not tonight. The frantic need clawing inside me won’t allow for patience.
I feel like the more he’s inside me, the more he’ll want to stay. To try and survive this.
“I just…I just need you.” I lean in, capturing his mouth again in a searing kiss, my tongue sliding against his. I reach between us, my fingers fumbling with his jeans. I free his cock, and nearly sob at how wild I am for him.
“Baby, I’m probably going to need to get you ready—”
Ignoring him, I sink down, a sharp, gasping breath catching in my throat.
Oh, god. The stretch is immediate, intense, a hot flare of pleasure-pain that makes my eyes water.
I feel myself accommodating his thick length inch by inch.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, my teeth grazing his skin as I work him deeper inside me.
“Oh, fuck, Em,” he groans, his voice ragged, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips hard enough to leave marks. “God, baby, you’re so fucking tight. How are you doing this?” he laughs.
I’m panting by the time he’s fully sheathed, my body stretched to its limit around him. He kisses my racing pulse, his body perfectly still beneath me, letting me set the pace. The surrender in his stillness is its own kind of power.
I begin to move slowly, rolling my hips. His head kicks back for a moment, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. The sight makes me feral.
“Take it slow,” he rasps against my throat. “Just like that.”
I nod, forehead pressed to his, eyes squeezed shut. I focus on the hot, wet slide as I rise and sink back down. The sting fades, melting until I’m moaning with every movement.
My pace builds. My hands slide over his hard chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms. He meets me now, a gentle upward push of his hips that sends sparks shooting through my veins. Our harsh, broken breaths fill the quiet room.
He leans forward, his mouth finding my breast. He kisses it once before taking a nipple between his teeth, his tongue circling slowly.
I cry out, my back arching, pressing myself deeper into him—into everything.
The sensation is too much, dragging me closer to the edge.
He’s the most incredible thing I’ve experienced.
After having him like this again, I’ll never let him go. Never.
His mouth moves to my other breast, and I lose whatever rhythm I had left.
“Jude,” I moan, fingers digging into his shoulders.
He pulls back, eyes locking with mine. The hunger in his hazel gaze mirrors my own. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs.
I can’t answer. My movements turn erratic and desperate, the pressure inside me tightening until it hurts. In this moment, I love him, but hate me. I need to help him. We need to figure this out together so we can have a chance at a life. I’m more me with him than without him.
“I can feel you,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “You’re right there. Keep going, Emma.”
He sinks his teeth into the curve of my shoulder, and I finally shatter. My vision blanks, my body convulsing around him, pulse after pulse tightening deep inside me. I cling to him as the waves tear through me. I’m helpless, breathless, and so in love with him.
Don’t go.
Don’t disappear on me again.
God I missed you so much.
The feeling of my climax pulling his own from him is the most powerful thing I’ve ever felt.
He lets out a choked, guttural groan, his hips slamming up into me, holding mine down as he pours himself into me.
I feel him pulsing inside, and it sends another, smaller aftershock rippling through my body.
We collapse together in a sweaty, trembling heap on the couch. His arms wrap around me, his face buried in my hair. Our hearts pound against each other’s chests, and it’s the only thing I can hear.
He shifts slightly, his lips finding my ear. “I love you so much.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I always will. Please know that.”
The way he says it makes my stomach clench. But I kiss him, passionately, drawing another moan from him. “I love you, too, Jude.”
Hours later, when I wake, the soft blue glow of a phone catches my eye.
I crane my head to see that Jude’s no longer beside me in bed.
He’s on the floor, bent over his phone, fingers swiping quickly.
My chest tightens. Something isn’t right.
I hold my breath, watching. I silently curse myself for not having super-human vision.
“Jude?” I whisper. He looks up, just the faintest shadow of a smile on his lips. “Who are you texting?”
He leans back against the bed, his silhouette soft in the blue glow. “Micah,” he says casually, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “Go to sleep, baby. I'll be right there.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, letting my gaze linger on him as he taps the screen again.
Something about the way he hesitates makes me nervous.
My intuition flares. He’s smiling at me like everything is normal, but the small tension in his shoulders, and the slight set of his jaw.
..part of me knows he’s lying. He’s lying to me.
When he finally curls up behind me under the blankets, his warmth against my back is comforting. But my mind won’t let me relax now. His arm drapes across my waist, and his breath fans over my neck. He doesn’t say anything else, even though he knows I’m awake.
I close my eyes, pressing my cheek against my pillow, letting him hold me.
And I wonder if he’s keeping me safe or keeping me in the dark.
I know I need to be more demanding with him.
I’ve been too careful. Too clinical with him.
I haven’t wanted to push him away. But things need to change, and I need the truth.
Because I don’t think I’m getting all of it.