“Good.”
Chapter 28
Between the Raindrops
Ayear of tension unlocks, and what’s left of our uncertainty shatters.
Jude’s mouth crashes into mine as rain rolls off the tin roof over our heads. Everything we’ve held back pours out in a rhythmic sequence of tugging and tasting, and our flimsy defenses wash away under a single wave of emotion.
Our lips don’t politely request—they demand, drinking each other in with the taste of rainwater and the specific minty sweetness I always knew would be there. He kisses like he sings, with passion and intensity, raw and exposed.
The needy desperation of his touch tells me everything I need to know.
This kiss didn’t happen by chance, or proximity, or some surface-level attraction.
It happened because it wasalwaysgoing to happen.
It happened because we were inevitable.
I gasp when he lifts me, pressing me against the door for support while he moves my hair to trail warm kisses down my neck.
“Four,” I scratch out, wrapping my legs around his waist, coaxing his mouth back to mine. “The door … it’s one, two…” I inhale sharply, getting lost as his mouth drags across my cheek to my ear.
“Three,” he breathes. His mouth below my ear ignites a fire I’ve never felt before as he returns to my lips, working his way down the other side of my neck. “Four … got it.”
He shifts my weight, and I grip him tighter when the door falls open behind me.
“I got you.”
“I know.”
He slips inside, pushing the door shut with his foot while feeling the wall for a light switch. Lightning flashes through the window over the sink, and it’s enough to see the couch, so he gives up on the light and sits with me straddled over his lap.
Every one of my senses is overwhelmed when he begins to remove his rain-soaked shirt, undoing the remaining buttons and peeling it from his skin. It’s pasted to his arms where it’s rolled up, so I tug the sleeve over his forearm and hand, freeing him from the offensive material.
Stupid shirt.
Fantasies number one and two have now been checked off, but familiar doubts begin to creep in. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.
I don’t get to keep good things.
I’ll want this forever, but he’ll lose interest.
Our game is over.
“Lu?” He meets my lips again and brings my hand to his chest. His heart beats wildly under my touch while his eyes search my face.
How is he so achingly perfect?
That small bandage from the other day is gone, but it’s too dark to make out the detail of what’s there. A scrape maybe? I’ll ask later if any part of my brain still works after this.
“I’m … freezing. Are you, um, cold?” I may be deflecting so I don’t ruin this moment with feelings, but despite the fire inside me, Iamshivering. The window unit air conditioner still blows full blast, and I’m soaked. He rubs his warm hands over my arms.
“I can hear your gears turning, Punk. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first.” He waits patiently for our breaths to slow. “Are we okay?”
“Always. We’re always okay. I’m just freaking out a little bit.” I stare helplessly into his eyes, hoping I haven’t ruined everything. I feel like there’s some piece of information I haven’t considered and this will all blow up in my face.
“You still want me to be in charge?”
