Chapter 17
SOFIA
Sunday morning’s rays were warm, and I decided to have my breakfast outside by the pool.
I was about to spoon buttery, fluffy eggs into my mouth when I caught the sound of the sliding door opening.
I smiled and twisted around, glancing over my shoulder.
Jude was striding toward me in white drawstring pajama bottoms.
His chest, with its enticing array of muscles, was bare and rippling, adorned only by his chains and jewelry.
His shaggy hair was sexy and messy from sleep, and his jade gaze was on me.
Our eyes locked, and my soul jolted.
‘Hey,’ I whispered.
‘Hey, you.’
‘I got breakfast going.’
‘I see that,’ he growled, straddling the bench across from me. ‘Thank you, wife.’
Why was this man so delicious? I asked myself as I took him in.
While now more generous with his smiles, the rare hug, and his hand on the small of my back when walking beside me, he’d not initiated any overtures toward intimacy since we made love.
He kept things friendly and cordial.
It did nothing to tamp down the fire, the need, and the yearning I had for him.
Sex with Judah had rewired my entire system, with a hunger for him.
I longed for him, wanting to stroke his hair, sink my hands into those thick strands, pull his face down to mine, and kiss him senseless.
I wanted him inside me, stroking in and out of me, driving me to ecstasy.
I craved to whisper in his ear how hot I found him, but I did nothing of the sort.
I’d begged once for him, never again.
I refused to allow myself to be desperate, clingy, and needy, like one of the groupies who chased the Six Sinners after a show.
I had my pride, and so I kept my distance, even if the craving between us was burning me alive.
He squinted at the sun, then reached for the sunglasses perched on his head.
He slid the aviators on, and I damn near sighed.
I shifted my gaze to my food.
‘Eat,’ I breathed, gesturing at the eggs, fruit, toast, and coffee in a thermos.
His mouth twitched. ‘Thanks babe.’
Reaching for a plate, he piled it high and poured an espresso.
The groan of pleasure he gave me a few moments later was all the reward I needed.
I found myself looking forward to yet another day hanging out with my husband.
I’d come to discover that he was a homebody; he liked being home.
‘My clubbing days are long gone,’ he once told me. ‘Besides, after touring, the last thing I need is crowds, the reek of alcohol and loud music; I get enough of it on the road.’
So he spent his free time with me, laid-back about my presence in his home.
Later, we relaxed by the pool, swimming, eating, sunning ourselves, and debating the merits of the musicians we both loved.
My playlist featured Italian, Spanish, and a few Afrobeats artists, while Jude had a sprawling, eclectic rock collection.
We eventually found common ground on the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Queen, Tina Turner, Bad Bunny, Wizkid, and old-school Jamiroquai.
We differed when it came to hip-hop with a reggaeton rhythm à la Vito Salamanca.
‘You only picked Bad Bunny to make me feel better about my track lists,’ I teased.
I nudged his solid shoulder with my elbow as we lounged on a double outdoor lounge bed by the aqua water.
Jude let out a rumble of amusement. ‘Please, Benito has some serious production value on those bass lines, Sofia. I’m a producer, remember? I respect the hustle.’
‘Right, tell that to your classic rock collection,’ I said, laughing and shaking my head. ‘I caught how you winced when I played that latest Samurai Jay track.’
‘That wasn’t a wince, that was focus,’ he countered, a rare, boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ‘Though I’m still convinced you’re trying to brainwash me with all your Italian summer soundtracks.’
‘We call them tormentoni, songs that take the country hostage from June to September, from the bar to the beach. We Italians are blatant romantics, shamelessly cheesy, and always cheeky, Jude. We also like moving our hips when we dance; you should try it sometime.’
He leaned closer, his eyes dancing with a playful, dangerous warmth.
‘Keep pushing, babe, and I just might show you exactly what kind of hip action I can give you.’
I ducked my head and blushed, not quite able to deal with the flirty side of Jude yet.
On Sunday afternoon, Bishop called Jude to invite us to dinner later that evening.
He was planning another of their regular gatherings at Bourbon Steak, a renowned downtown establishment.
Angel chimed in over the speakerphone, announcing that his girlfriend, Evangeline, intended to make an appearance.
I sensed Jude’s brief hesitation at Angel’s declaration, and I wondered why.
Jude muted the speaker and turned to me.
‘She’s a socialite. She’s got 2 million followers on IG,’ he drawled.
‘Her family comes from old money. She hosts a podcast, Rose Without Thorns. Nashville’s daily dose of fashion inspiration and beauty tips, where she shares her latest endeavors as a Nashville resident.
She’s also a founder of style brand Rose you’re with me. Fair warning though; Evangeline can be a handful.’
I shrugged. ‘I’ll still have you and the band, so why not?’
He jerked his chin with a wry smile and turned the speaker back on, confirming that he and I would join the others for dinner that night.
A nervous flutter zipped through my chest, mixed with genuine excitement about our first real public appearance as a couple.
I dressed in an aqua wrap maxi dress and slipped into nude sandals with a small kitten heel.
Jude chose his customary black denim, pairing the jeans with a crisp charcoal button-down shirt and polished leather boots.
When he came downstairs, he whistled, raking me from head to toe, gliding over my hair at one nape, to the off-the-shoulder design that exposed my neck and golden arms.
‘You’re beautiful, Sofia,’ he rasped, and I shivered at the timbred sincerity.
‘Not so bad yourself,’ I breathed as I took his arm.
We arrived at the venue and stepped into the elevator, riding it up to the rooftop deck. The space boasted expansive views of the glowing Nashville skyline.
‘The kitchen belongs to a Michelin-starred chef,’ Jude told me as the doors slid open. ‘He specializes in high-quality cuts of American and Kobe beef.’
‘I don’t care about the stars,’ I laughed as my stomach let out a loud growl. ‘I’m starving.’
Levi, Reign, Bishop, Angel, and Evangeline were already seated at a circular table near the glass railing.
I greeted the guys, then pivoted to meet Angel’s other half, flashing her a genuine smile.
Evangeline was a striking, classical beauty, no doubt.
Her platinum blonde hair hung in sleek waves, framing an immaculate face with porcelain skin and vivid blue eyes.
It seemed the Six Sinners had a type.
An expensive designer silk jumpsuit draped her slight frame, and she balanced on sky-high stilettos.
She offered me a terse nod, her expression dismissive as she turned her shoulder away.
I recognized her type at once, a woman accustomed to weaponizing her appearance to get her way.
She viewed my presence as either competition or an unwanted intrusion into her exclusive social playground.
Angel sat right beside her, oblivious to her coldness.
It seemed tragic.
Throughout the first course, Evangeline ignored me, directing her conversation to the men.
Jude took note of the slight, his jaw tightening as he cut his prime rib.
‘Nice of you to include us, Evangeline,’ Jude muttered, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. ‘We wouldn’t want Sofia to monopolize your precious attention.’
Angel snapped his head up, his eyes narrowing at his bandmate. ‘Lay off, Jude. She’s just tired tonight.’
‘She’s rude, Angel,’ Deacon spoke up from the end of the table, his blunt tone slicing through the tension. ‘There’s a major difference.’
‘Hey,’ Angel protested, but it came with zero fire.
He appeared to be far too in love to see his woman for what she truly was, blinded by her polished, expensive exterior and unaware of how high-maintenance she was.
Evangeline let out a dramatic huff, throwing her linen napkin onto the tablecloth.
She stood up and shot me a glare, as if I had anything to do with her bad diva behavior.
Tossing her hair, she marched toward the crowded marble bar.
I tracked her progress as Angel followed her into the lounge.
I arched a brow as she straight-up punched Angel in his shoulder.
He shook it off, grabbing her hand and holding it in a tight grip as he spoke to her, trying to calm her down.
‘There she blows again, and there he goes babying her,’ Jude muttered into my ear as his hand slid behind my chair. ‘Probably promising her diamonds and more shopping trips to keep her calm.’
I turned to Jude, shocked by the display.
‘Did she just hit him?’
Jude’s jaw tightened, and he leaned in to whisper to me.
‘She’s next-level toxic. Still astounds me how he doesn’t realize how unhealthy her boundaries are.
He’s a smart, good-looking, talented brother with the biggest heart.
He could have any woman, but for some odd reason this girl just had a hold of him that I can never understand.
We’ve tried talking to him, but he just won’t hear it. ’
I shook my head in disbelief.
‘He deserves better.’
‘You don’t say.’
Jude stroked my hair and nape, and we exchanged a long gaze before we re-joined the conversation at the table.
At the bar, Angel wrapped his arms around his woman’s waist, murmuring to her for ten minutes before the couple returned.
Evangeline pouted through the remaining courses, but the rest of the table ignored her antics, focusing on the fare.
The guys urged me to try dishes the restaurant was famous for.
I attempted the crispy soft-shell crab first and moaned.
The rich, buttery white flesh melted on my tongue, followed by a delicate hint of sweet ocean brine.