Page 107 of UNAwere

She nods. ‘Good idea. You must be exhausted still.’

I nod at Lucas. ‘Great to meet you.’

‘You too,’ he murmurs, but he still looks confused. And as I’m closing the door to my room behind me, I hear him say to Hannah, ‘Why does she smell so much like Jude?’

Iwake up late in the night to a thumping headache.

And ants.

They’re back, under my skin, stinging my nerves and poisoning my blood. I sit up in bed, gasping, an entire outline of my body represented in a sweat stain on the sheets. I try to get up, but my legs fail me, and I end up crawling towards the bathroom, fingers digging into the plush carpet.

I’m gasping, completely oxygen-starved, by the time I make it to the shower. I pull the mixer into the cold position and put it on, dousing myself with freezing water. And the ants start to settle, but there’s an ache in my stomach, between my legs, that I know won’t go away until my body gets what it needs.

Release. Jude’s voice is clear in my mind. But not only that, his presence. I need him here. Now.

Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes against the despair and wrap my arms around my knees, keeping my entire body under the cold stream of water.

You can’t, I tell myself.

Completely and utterly out of bounds. Completely and utterly ridiculous. He’s not mine. He doesn’t want me. And I don’t want him.

Another surge comes through, stronger than the last, and I moan, rubbing my thighs together. My brain is conjuring up stupid thoughts. Absurd and so bloody hot.

Jude’s mouth on mine. On my neck, claiming me. Tasting me. Between my legs. His cock heavy against the curve of my arse. His hands on my breasts, fingers tweaking my nipples.

I turn my face into the water, getting a nose full of the jet stream, and cough and splutter.

‘Stupid,’ I whisper.

Need, my body responds.

I clutch myself tighter. As if to try and hold onto the part of me that’s willing to drag myself all the way to Jude’s door. Wherever it is. At the moment, I feel I could sniff him out. I could climb the outer walls of this stupid mansion until I found him.

‘Warner will find out,’ I warn myself out loud. ‘You can’t.’

Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude.

‘Shit…’

I get up. My legs are wobbly. My entire body is quaking with desire. As soon as the water shuts off, the ants are back, and they’re ten times worse than before. I moan and stumble out of the bathroom. I’m only wearing my panties and an oversized tee. I’m wet through, dripping across the boards as I search for him through the house.

It’s almost as if I can see the scent trails he’s left behind. And I find it so bizarre, it’s hilarious, and I laugh a witch’s cackle that doesn’t sound like my own.

I’ve lost my mind.

I need Jude.

His scent grows strongest on the other side of the house. Past the lounge room I first entered with Bernie, up through a long hallway and out into what seems to be a separate house: a kitchenette and a separate lounge on either side of the large room I enter.

I know the door to his room when I see it. It’s black, and the house is dark enough that it looks like a hole to another realm. But it’s him. Every part of this section of the mansion is Jude. The warm woods. The plants on bookshelves. The books, leather-bound and paperbacks, worn and dog-eared. There are dirty dishes in the sink from a meal he most likely cooked tonight. I smell tomato sauce and oregano: bolognese or lasagne.

My mouth waters. I’m at his door and knocking on it before I even realise.

‘Jude,’ I say, my voice weak.

He’s at the door in seconds. As if he knew I was coming. When he sees me, shivering and drenched on his threshold, his brow buckles. He reaches out and takes my arm, dragging me into him, and shouldering the door closed.

I moan, burrowing my face into his chest, nuzzling my nose against the hairs there. Thanking whatever higher power that I found him shirtless.