Page 64 of Ruthless Protector

She grabbed his arm and tugged him inside. “It depends, are there olives on it?”

Jude screwed up his face comically. “What kind of monster do you think I am? Who would ruin perfectly good pizza like that?”

Tilly shook her head and looked pointedly at me. “Willa likes them. But she doesn’t get them anymore, not since I moved in with her.”

Jude glanced over at me. “Next time, I’ll get one with olives just for you, even if it goes against everything I believe in.”

Next time? A small smile curved my lips despite myself. I should tell him to leave. Spending time with him, letting Tilly spend time with him, was a terrible idea, but how could I ask him to leave now? He’d already bought the pizza. And Tilly was so excited to see him.

I didn’t have the heart to do it.

And maybe, though I hated to admit it, Tilly wasn’t the only Hartley girl happy to have him knock on her door.

My niece led him to the living room, and I grabbed drinks and napkins from the kitchen. When I walked in, they were trying to decide which movie to watch.

Jude sat, reached out and took my hand, tugging me down beside him, and I let him. I don’t know why, except, right then, I wanted to be there. It felt nice, normal, especially when Tilly climbed up beside me and snuggled in. After we ate, Jude dropped his arm along the back of the couch, his hand resting on my shoulder, his thumb gently sliding back and forth every now and again.

I loved it, every moment of it. I didn’t fight it, or give him attitude, or try to distance myself. It was a movie and pizza, that’s all. One night. Nothing to get all worked up about. Yeah, I’d told myself the same thing when I’d climbed into bed with him the night before.

But maybe, I could have more than one night?

Trent had his money, he wasn’t a threat—not right at this moment, anyway—and once I had enough cash saved to move away, somewhere he’d never find us, he’d never be a threat ever again. So why couldn’t I take this for myself? Have this little bit of fun. Enjoy the time I had left.

Two hours later, after the movie had finished, followed by Tilly grilling Jude about his job, and how he found the bad guys—she was in bed, and was I standing at the living room door.

What happened now?

Jude’s eyes slid from the TV to me, and he was looking at me in a way that had me feeling suddenly…shy. The look in his eyes, it was hungry, like he wanted to devour me. It was, God, so intense.

I was finding it hard to summon my courage, and the attitude I’d used to keep him at a distance, it was nowhere to be found.

I scooped the empty pizza box from the coffee table. “I’ll just go put this in the trash.” I rushed to the kitchen, needing a moment to gather myself. Being pressed up to him for the last two hours; the heat of his body, the hardness of it, I was more than a little turned on.

And if that was all it was, that intense heat between us, I’d be fine—I dumped the box on the counter and stared out the window—but it wasn’t. While I’d been tucked up beside him, I’d felt…content.

Like that was where I was meant to be. It had shaken me. Rocked me to my core.

“Willa?” Jude was suddenly behind me, his hands going to my waist, his hold firm, possessive.

A shiver moved through me, so strong my breath shuddered out between my lips. His mouth went to the side of my neck, his beard tickling, his warm lips working their way up to my ear. “I want you,” he said, voice full of grit.

I wanted him too, there was no point denying it, but I couldn’t be the one to take us there. It had to be him. He had to take the lead. The fear I felt right then, I’d run; I’d run scared if he left it up to me.

“Then take me,” I said, unable to hide the need in my voice, not caring.

He made a low sound as one of his hands slid around to my belly, fingers working, bunching up my skirt until it was up around my hips, then he slid his hand down the front of my panties.

We both groaned when he pressed a thick finger between the folds of my pussy and found how wet I was.

I covered his hand with mine and rolled my hips, holding him where I wanted him. He started working me then, while his other hand came up, covering one of my breasts, massaging, teasing, pinching my aching nipple.

Liquid heat curled in my lower belly, zaps of electricity shooting through me. Just this, his hands on me, and I was already close to coming.

“Christ, Willa. I love feeling how wet you get when I touch you. Shit, so slick and hot, all over my fingers, you’re so damn ready for my cock I can barely think straight.”

I bent at the waist and rubbed my ass against the impossibly hard ridge behind the zipper of his jeans. “I don’t want you to think,” I said. “I just want you to fuck me.”

Suddenly, I was lifted off my feet, my back still to his front, and turned toward the kitchen table.