His words settled in my chest in a way I hadn’t expected at all. My own issues were always in the front of my brain, clouding my judgment and driving my every move. They were so overwhelming in fact that I became blind to the notion that Jude would have his own baggage.
Without warning, my heart hurt for him and whatever pain he must have been carrying around. Because there was no doubt in my mind that Heath wasn’t lying. Despite having Jude’s best interest at heart, I fucking hated the guy for thinking I was going to hurt him.
Letting the conversation settle in my head, I walked back to our table. Clearly Jude had seen us talking when he asked, “What was that all about? He running his mouth again,” he drawled, pulling his beer to his side of the table.
The lie fell from my mouth as easily as the air filled my lungs. “Just asking how long I was in town for.”
Jude’s eyes lit up and I instantly regretted what I’d said. “And?” he asked, taking another chug.
“As long as you’ll have me,” I answered around the rim of my own glass.
“You don’t have anything waiting for you back in California?”
“Well, when you put it like that I sound all sad and pathetic.” My attempt at a joke was lame, but the words were true nonetheless, both his and mine.
“I, uh, didn’t . . . I mean,” he stammered, clearly hoping not to insult me.
“It’s okay,” I stepped in. “There’s nothing there for me.” Remembering the pain in Delilah’s voice when I told her I was gay, I knew that wasn’t a lie. “It’s just Sarge and me.”
Pushing down thoughts of Simon, and how much I missed him—and how much of a fucking coward I was being—I held my hand out across the table. Thankful for the warmth of his skin pressing against mine, I let out a deep breath. “Dance?” I asked, needing to feel his heat.
Without any hesitation, he pulled me out of the booth and onto the dance floor. His body, pressed against mine, made me forget my problems, if only for a minute. It was impossible to ignore how our bodies fit together perfectly. A surge of desire pulsated through my body, forcing what felt like all the blood in my body to rush to my dick. “What’s goin’ on?” As if he needed to drive home the point of his question, he pressed his hardening cock into mine.
Acting as if I was about to reveal the meaning of life, I leaned in close. Pressing my lips up against his ear, I heard his breath catch in his throat. “It’s called an erection. Maybe you’ve heard of it,” I joked.
Laughing, he wrapped his arms around me. Unfettered by the rules of the society in which we’d both been raised, we openly touched each other, dropping soft kisses whenever we felt like it. As whatever slow, twangy, country song we were dancing to played on, I pressed my lips to his ear once again. “My turn,” I said, mirroring the alternating questions we asked in the car on our way here. He nodded, wordlessly prompting me to continue. “Is it okay if I stay?” The fear of his rejection lodged in my throat, but something in my gut told me he wouldn’t turn me away.
Without missing a beat, he pressed his lips to my ear, whispering, “As long as you’d like.” And just like that, my pulse settled and my heart sped up at the same time.
“Now, I go,” he countered with a crooked smile pulling at his sexy, full lips. “Why won’t you touch me with both hands?” His question caught me off guard, actually forcing me to trip over my own two feet. Effortlessly, Jude wrapped his arms around my waist, securing my body to his in a way that left no space between us. “It’s just that—”
“Fear.” I interrupted, letting the truth fall from my lips. Now it was his turn to stumble over his feet. His eyes begged me to continue, so without making him ask, I did. “Without touching you,” I explained, “all you can do is see it. It’s not really a part of me then. It’s not who I am, physically. It never becomes part of how we interact. So in a way, it’s me being able to choose who I want to be.” Confusion clouded his rugged face, twisting his brows together. “I know I’m not making much sense,” I rambled, dropping my hand from his waist and running it through my too-long hair.
He grabbed my hand and replaced it to his hip. “You are.” Pulling our bodies together once again, he rested his head on my shoulder. “Kind of.” There was a question in his statement so I angled my body back so I could look into his eyes, telling him it was okay to keep going. It was time for me to open up, at least a little, anyway. “It’s just that, you shook Brandon’s hand, and Dad’s with your prosthetic. It didn’t matter then.”
There was no hiding the jealousy in his voice. Cutting to the chase, I admitted, “They don’t matter to me.” Once again angling my body back so I could look him in the eyes, I laid it all out there. “And you do.”
“That scares you?”
“Scares the living shit out of me.”
“You’ve been to war,” he countered, and as the words tumbled out of his mouth, I could tell he’d broken some silent vow he’d made to himself never to mention the war unless I brought it up. “How do I scare you?”
“I didn’t care about losing the war, about losing my life,” I admitted for the first time. Truth be told, knowing I’d have to return to the lie I’d created for myself, I’d hoped I wouldn’t survive. “But you”—I ran my hands—both of them—down his arms—“I don’t think I could stand losing you. Again.” His eyes widened in shock and his mouth moved to say something, but no words came out. Finally exhausted with whatever brave front I’d been putting on, I gave in to what I wanted for the last decade. “Let’s get out of here. You have a bet to collect on.”
As we walked past our table, I dropped a few bills for the waitress. Despite the crowd swarming around him, Heath saw us leave, and I knew I’d have to dig deeper on that one. But there was a scab there at which I wasn’t about to pick.
When the warm summer air greeted us in the parking lot, I found it nearly impossible to breathe, but not because it was a muggy July night in Texas.
The heat in Jude’s eyes told me everything I needed to know about what he wanted to do to me. And that made breathing more than difficult. As we walked to his car, he was never more than an inch away from me. Before I could reach for the handle, he pushed into me, pressing me between his body and the car door. “After tonight,” he whispered into my ear before tracing his tongue along the shell, “you’re never going to want to leave.”
A shiver ran through my body settling in my chest, right next to the hope that Jude would make me forget everything.
That he’d make me want to stay and never look back.
