I take a photo of my pink-painted toenails against the bathtub wall, my calves showing but covered in a thick layer of bubbles.
Jude: Tease.
Me: Where’s my pic?
I close my eyes, hoping he doesn’t send me a dick pic. It doesn’t seem like his style, but still…men can be unpredictable when it comes to their peens.
A photo of Jude lying in bed pops up on my phone screen. He’s shirtless, his dark hair a contrast to the white pillowcase. I lick my lips against my will.
Good Lord, he’s handsome. I won’t be able to delete this photo, no matter how dangerous it is to keep it on my phone.
Emboldened by the champagne, I hold up my phone and take a photo of my face, my hair tied up and bubbles covering me nearly up to the swell of my breasts. When I send it, I feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
A few seconds later, another text pops up.
Jude: You’re so fucking beautiful, Reagan. All I can think about is how much I want to make up for my shitty behavior tonight.
Me: All’s fair in love and war, Titan.
Jude: Bullshit. I’ll never make you cry again. You have my word.
I’m melting, and it’s not from the steaming bath water. Jude always seems to know exactly what I need, whether it’s sweet words, a good argument, or a little distance. And the closer we get, the less distance I want.
Me: I miss you. I wish you were here with me right now.
Jude: Me too. FaceTime?
My heartbeat races at the thought. I’m so turned on right now—andso naked. But I want to. God, do I want to. I swallow hard and text him back.
Me: Okay.
Chapter 17
I stareat the phone for a minute and blink repeatedly, waiting for the words to change, but they don’t. She agreed to FaceTime me—and from the bathtub no less.
My cock is already hard as a rock underneath the white sheet from the photo of her bubble-covered breasts. Seeing her body and knowing she doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on has my dick bobbing and weaving in approval.
Lexi must not have chewed her ass out after walking in on us in the dressing room. I figured that Reagan would never speak to me again because Lexi would’ve warned about the risk and talked some sense into her. I can’t imagine if Carl found out about Reagan and me; he’d flip his lid and forbid me to ever speak to her again outside of a debate.
We’re taking a huge risk every time we’re together, but sometimes that’s half the fun. I wonder if that’s the pull that brings us together—the danger. Since returning from the war, my life has become almost boring. The election gave me a purpose I’d been craving, and being with Reagan makes my heart pound nearly as hard as it did when I was ready to go into battle. I’m not scared for my life, but there’s still that secret thrill and rush of adrenaline that I miss.
I prop my phone against the lamp on my nightstand and press connect. While it rings, I tuck my hand under the pillow and pretend to look casual, even though I’m practically bursting with excitement.
“Hey,” she says after it connects. Her hand is moving through the air, and tiny droplets of water are falling from her fingertips, plopping against her bare skin.
“Hey, yourself,” I reply, unable to drag my eyes away from her movement. She’s propped the phone toward the end of the tub, giving me the perfect view of her bubble-covered body. I finally force myself to look at her face. “I’m surprised you said yes to FaceTiming me.”
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about earlier.”
“I’m pretty unforgettable.” I smirk.
Even though her face is far from the camera, I can clearly see her roll her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself, Jude.” She glosses over my statement, and I let her.
“Did Lexi read you the riot act?”
“No,” she says on a sigh, trickling more water against her naked skin. “But she isn’t happy.”
The way it’s falling from her fingers draws my eyes away from her face. “What did she say?” I want to keep her talking so I can watch without distraction, even if it’s only for a few more seconds.
