Page 90 of Jude

He reached out to me as if he wanted to pull me into his chest, then he pushed his hands into his pockets, only adding to the distance he had just created.

His lips parted, and for a second, I was certain he was about to friend-zone me.

I braced for a speech about how we had agreed to keep things professional.

He closed his mouth, pursing his lips without a word, wary and closed off.

‘Goodnight, Jude,’ I whispered, turning on my heel.

I marched down the corridor to my room, locking the door behind me.

I sank to the floor, spine to the wood, burying my face in my hands.

Cazzo! You stupid, blind idiot, I scolded myself.

The silent curse echoed in my mind as I stared at the ceiling, questioning why I ever believed this arrangement might turn into a shot at real love.

Chapter 19

JUDE

Guilt slammed into my chest the moment Sofia tracked upstairs.

Sighing, I caught the thud of her bedroom door closing.

I removed the box from my pocket.

I stared at it, resting in my calloused palm, then flipped the cover open to study the matte black titanium-and-gold band within.

It was an exquisite piece, no doubt.

Not wearing metal at a concert was valid, but her counterargument held water; I had the choice to wear it on one of my neck chains.

I wanted to shove it onto my finger right then, if only to erase the crushed, wounded expression that flashed across her face.

However, I was not a man who built my life on half-truths.

Hell, I was trying to maintain my emotional distance, which was like pulling teeth given the suffocating level of desire I now had for Sofia.

I stalked upstairs to my primary, threw the ring box onto my nightstand, and got ready for bed.

I spent that night staring at the ceiling.

My fists clenched, each muscle in my body locking up as I fought the urge to stalk down the hall to her room.

I fantasized about pushing into her room, sliding under her sheets, and burying myself deep inside her warmth until the rest of the world burned.

The yearning clawed at my gut, a relentless, primal need to feel her nails digging into my back while our breaths tangled in the dark.

Every hour without her felt like a gradual burn, remembering the sensual, filthy rhythm of her hips and the undone sound of her moan when she called my name.

However, I learned the hard way with Abby that being led on out of pity or cowardice was a slow poison.

For years, Abby and I stayed in a holding pattern because she lacked the guts to choose me.

I refused to repeat that mistake with my wife.

Telling her I was not ready for the permanence of a wedding ring was the raw, jagged reality of where my heart was; in confusion about her.