He takes hold of my wrists, moving them from his shoulders and pinning them to the bed above my head before I even know what’s happening.
“Don’t fear me,” he whispers. “Never fear me, Reagan.”
“I’m not scared.” My voice is breathy.
“Your eyes are huge right now.”
“Because I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “I’m a good girl, Jude. I always do the right thing. I never take any chances. I’m always on point. But I lose control when we’re alone. I lose it to you.”
“You think I’m in control right now?”
I smile. “Seems to me I’m pinned beneath you and begging for it.”
His gaze darkens further, and his smile slips away. “I fucking love the sound of that. But I’m right on the edge too, Reagan. If my cock touches any part of you, I’m done.”
He’s holding his large, powerful frame above me, his hands on my wrists the only part of him touching me until he lowers his nose to my face and brushes it gently next to mine. The gesture is surprisingly sweet, and it sets my body on fire for him again.
I capture his lips with mine and kiss him deeply. I’m otherwise immobilized, so I have to show him how much I want him with just my mouth. I tug his lower lip between my teeth, and he groans again.
“Fuck,” he says softly.
A loud knock sounds at the door. My lips part with shock, and I jump.
Shit.What am I doing in here? I scramble off the bed, smoothing my hair as I run for the door between our rooms.
“Hey,” Jude whispers as I grab the door handle.
“Lemme in, man,” a deep voice says. There’s another knock. It’s Carl, Jude’s campaign manager.
I lock eyes with Jude for just a second before I quietly open the door, slip through, and then lock the deadbolt on the other side. For a few seconds, I stand with my back against it, my heart still pounding anxiously.
“What are you doing in here?” Carl asks. “The TV’s not even on.”
“I was sleeping,” Jude answers. “You need something?”
“I’ve got good news. Get me a drink, will you?”
“Get your own fucking drink. The fridge is full.”
Carl apparently walks over to the fridge because I hear him ask Jude, “You want one?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”
Through the paper-thin walls, I can hear them almost as clearly as if I were in the room with them.
“So…” Carl says, “The guy I hired to dig into the Prestons returned with a fucking gold mine of information.”
“Yeah?” Jude asks, his tone flat and disinterested.
“We’ve got two very promising leads to work on. You know Reagan’s younger sister, Abby?”
My pulse kicks up at the mention of my sister’s name. That bastard Carl will be sorry if he tries to go after her.
“Yeah, what about her?” Jude asks.
“Apparently, she had an abortion in college.”
I bury my face in my hands. Though it’s true, it’s something that hurt Abby deeply, and it has no place in a political campaign. It’s all I can do not to throw open the door and attack Carl.
