I prop myself against the counter waiting for him to retrieve the food so I can get something to drink. “The wings are in the white box. You can put the whipped cream anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” He turns to me with an evil gleam in his eyes and an open can of whipped cream. “You sure about that?”
I bite my lower lip to keep my expression neutral as I slide away along the counter and inch slowly around the side.
Anticipate his actions.
No sudden moves.
“Do you really want to make a mess this late? It’s all fun and games until there’s whipped cream on the ceiling.”
His eyes widen, and he purses his lips fighting a grin. “I disagree. Whipped cream on the ceiling sounds likelotsof fun. But was that a euphemism, or are we still talking about this?” He lightly shakes the can in front of me.
Oh, that devious grin. I’m in so much trouble.
I snort a laugh and shuffle backward until I hit the wall, letting out a squeal when he lunges and corners me.
He raises the can lightning-fast, and I instinctively cover my face and eyes when I hear it gurgle. I brace for something cold and wet, but only a little sputters out over my hand and cheek.
“Not fair! Where’s my sweet Jude? I wanthimback!”
The air stills around us in deafening silence until I hear the metal can clink onto the counter.
He peels my hands from my eyes and never looks away when his hot open mouth takes the splattered whipped cream from the back of my hand.
My skin pebbles instantly, confirming what he already knows.
Brushing away some fluff from my cheek with his finger, he briefly touches it to my mouth, causing me to lick my lips. He squeezes his eyes shut with a harsh exhale and quickly dries the rest on his pants.
Good call.
He threads our fingers together and lifts our hands, pressing them over my head against the wall. He dips his forehead down to mine, bringing us nose to nose.
“I’mright here.” His voice is stilted and tight.
The lingering wintergreen on his breath begs my mouth to find his, and the clinch in my stomach indicates interest in the proposal.
Dear heavens, tell me that wasn’t a contraction.
If either of us were keeping secrets, the heat between us just told them all.
I’m shaking when his grip relaxes, and I bring my hands to his face.
“I know,” I whisper. “I see you.”
His breath drags in harder, as if he’s trying to control it while he searches my face. I wish I knew what he wanted to see.
“I think the only thing keeping you with Nathan is misplaced responsibility. You see something broken, and you need to fix it or stop him from making it worse.” Jude’s body radiates frustration as his stare bores through me. “You could, without a doubt, take all the broken pieces and make them something beautiful. But you can’t love someone who won’t let you.” He pauses before irrevocably piercing my soul. “And neither can I.”
He holds my hands over his stubbled cheeks and closes his eyes until our breathing slows together.
Warm hands drop to my bare arms, gliding over them once, and again, then slowly up over my shoulders to my neck and into my hair as my hands lower to his sides.
Mercy.
There’s nothing but a thin layer of cotton separating my hand from that stimulating reading material I’ve thought about all day. My shivers fight the heat of his touch as he slides a thumb across my cheek, skimming faintly over my lips until he reaches my chin, tilting my face back up.
I can’t … words.
