Los Angeles Bad Boys: The Complete Series: Cold Hard Cash, Hollywood Holden, Saint Jude

by Frankie Love

  “It’s ironic,” he says. “My name. The idea of me being the patron saint of lost causes. When I’m the lost cause. I always have been. Ever since that day when Nolan died—when I let him die. Ever since then, I’ve fought to forgive myself, but I don’t think it’s possible, Catalina. I don’t think I will ever get over what I didn’t do. And nothing I ever do will be enough.”

  “That’s not true. You can’t try to repay a debt you don’t owe. Waste your life trying, but it will never work.”

  “Catalina, he died because of me.”

  “No. That’s not true. This is a tragic story, but it isn’t a story to be ashamed of. What happened on the beach that day is so sad, but it’s also the reason you’re the man you are today. Loving. Kind. Generous.”

  “I would trade all those things if Nolan could be alive.”

  “I’m sure you would,” I tell him. “And I’m so sorry you can’t.”

  “Maybe this is why Rachel is taking Etta This is another way I can pay for what I did.”

  “Jude, Rachel keeping Etta from you does not bring your brother back.”

  “Catalina, I know that.” Jude swallows, looking at me dead on. “Nothing can bring Nolan back. But having Etta gives meaning to my life. She’s this precious, daily reminder of how beautiful it all is. Nolan didn’t survive when he went into the ocean, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t swim.”

  “Do you forgive yourself for what happened to Nolan?”

  “I thought I had. But then Rachel left, and it brought back all those memories. That’s why I have such a damn hard time watching people walk away. I walked away.”

  Hearing his words, I realize how hard it must have been for him when I walked away, when I told him that I didn’t want his help, that I didn’t want to be in it with him.

  Especially now.

  Especially now, when I know exactly what I want.

  Him.

  “I’m sorry I left you,” I tell him.

  “I know why you left me. This life of mine is pretty damn complicated,” Jude shakes his head. “Too messy for a girl like you. You’ve already had too much to deal with the last two years with that asshole; you don’t need someone new to walk into your life and make it a bigger shit show.”

  “Too bad, Jude,” I tell him, gripping his face with my hands. My mouth is so close to his, our breath hot, our hearts beating hard.

  Both of us desperate. Both of us needy. Both of us wanting what is right in front of us.

  “Too bad what, Catalina?”

  “Too bad that this is complicated. I like complicated. I love complicated. I love you.”

  The sentence just falls from my mouth, but it’s exactly the truth.

  “I love you, Jude. And you may be a complete mess right now—sort of drunk and sort of sobbing. But I’m sort of a mess too.”

  “You’ll be my mess?” he asks me. His arms wrap around my waist as I move to straddle him on this chair.

  “Your mess to clean up? No. Your lovely mess? Your completely delicious, fuck-you-until-we-fall-asleep mess? Your over-my-head and head-over-heels mess? Yes. That’s the kind of mess I am. That’s the kind of mess you’ve got.”

  “I love you, too,” he tells me. “But Catalina, what if my mess becomes too big for you?”

  “Then we’ll have to clean it up together.”

  I mean it, the things I said tonight to him. I mean them.

  And so I kiss him.

  I kiss him hard. A salty, tears-on-our-faces kiss. A filled with fear and desire and lust and love, all wrapped up in one mouth on mouth perfect kiss. A kiss where our lips part and our tongues entwine. Our hearts? They are one.

  In this kiss, I’m not scared. Even though I’m completely terrified.

  In this kiss, I’m not hurting, even though I know Jude and I are broken.

  In this kiss, I see a blue-sky sunshiny day, even though stars light up the sky.

  In this kiss, I feel more whole than I ever have before.

  In this kiss, Jude carries me away.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jude

  I pull her off the loveseat, needing more of her skin against mine, needing all of her to be pressed to me.

  Needing her in a way that’s demanding and true, in a way that will not take no for an answer.

  Which is good, because right now both of us are begging for a yes.

  Begging to be together.

  Deeply.

  Completely.

  “I love you, baby,” I tell her, my mouth on her ear, breathing hot air against her skin.

  “Is that just the booze talking?” she asks, a teasing smile playing across her lips.

  “It most certainly is not. But damn, my cock is speaking loud and clear right now.”

  She reaches her hand to my raging hard-on, feeling the outline of me through my jeans, and she wraps her other hand around my neck as she does, pressing against me into another kiss that’s full of heat, our mouths melting against one another as we sink into the kiss.

  She moans into my mouth, and her hand reaches below the waist of my jeans, taking hold of my throbbing cock.

  “Oh, baby,” I tell her. “I’m gonna fuck you now. Right here.”

  “Do it.” Her hand fumbles with the buttons on my jeans, and I pull down her tank, wanting to take her bare nipple into my mouth, wanting to lick her hard nub. My tongue rolls around her tight nipple. I suck her perfect breast, wanting my face to be buried in her chest, because she’s so fucking hot.

  My cock strains against my jeans as she pulls them down, but damn, I just want to bury my cock against her tits, too. Titty-fuck her until I come all over her face. See my jizz coating her mouth, watching as she licks it off her swollen lips, imagining her swallowing my motherfucking seed.

  “Oh, baby, I need to fuck you bad.”

  “Good,” she moans. “Because my pussy is so wet for you, Jude. It’s been too long since you took me and did what you liked.”

  “You know you liked it, too, Catalina. You know you liked it when I came all over your perfect ass.”

  “I want you to come in me and come all over me. I want to suck you off, Jude, and I want you to lick my pussy clean. I want you to lick me until I soak your face. And then I want you to fuck me again.”

  I pull off her tank top, take off my tee-shirt, let her run her hands greedily over my chest as we stand on my porch, under the star-lit sky, ready to fuck until we beg.

  I step out of my jeans, let my hard cock spring to life. And I swear, the sight of me gets her panties soaked.

  I watch as she unbuttons her shorts, then she stands before me with her hand dipping below the waistband, reaching for her own fucking mound. I watch as her hand moves up and down, petting her pussy like a good girl.

  “Oh, baby,” I growl, stroking myself, stepping toward her, ready to flip her up and over and then fuck her left and right. Fuck her good. Fuck her forever.

  “You’re so hard,” she pants, her hand moving faster as she watches me touch myself.

  “I need to see your pussy—and I need to see it now.” I lay her down on the chaise lounge, her head propped with a pillow, and I tug those tiny little cut-offs down to her ankles.

  She’s not wearing any panties—and, fuck, that gets me harder than I thought possible.

  “Spread your legs,” I tell her. “Drop to your knees. I need to see your perfect tits.”

  She does as I tell her to, and her tits are round globes, reflecting the light of the moon. She bites the corner of her lip, spreading her little pussy apart with her fingers. I think I’m gonna come just from the sight of her fingers rubbing in circles over her gap.

  “Baby, you’re so fucking hot.”

  She moves her fingers faster, and I do, too, stroking myself as she nears climax.

  “Can you get yourself off?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “Not without a vibrator. I want to, though. I want to make myself come.”

  “Keep moving your hand
like that,” I instruct her. “And come sit on the edge of the chaise.”

  She scoots where I tell her to, her legs spread apart. I stand between them.

  “Now touch yourself. Touch your pussy like you were before, but suck my cock, too. That will make you come.”

  “I want that so bad. I want to taste you so bad, Jude.”

  “Good, then put my cock in your mouth and suck like you were made to do.”

  She opens her mouth and takes me. Her lips tighten around my raging cock, and I move her head up and down.

  “Touch your pussy, and keep sucking. That will make you gush.”

  Her mouth is too full to answer. She’s sucking me so fucking good. My cock is going to explode. I don’t hold back. Instead, I thrust my cock against her, knowing she likes it, likes it so damn much—because her hand is moving fast as she works herself raw.

  Finally, she stops sucking, and that’s good, because I’m about to fucking explode. She pulls back, her lips draped open, her middle finger circling her clit nice and fast. My cock is ready to burst.

  “I’m gonna come all over your tits, and then you’re gonna come too, understand?”

  “Yes, baby,” she moans. “Come all over me. Come on my tits, on my face. Come in my mouth.”

  I pump my cock nice and hard, ribbons of my come spurting against her perky tits, coating her neck, her chin, her lips with my milky cream.

  “You like that, don’t you?” I ask her.

  “Oh, God, I love it.” She licks her lips, panting as she rolls her fingers over her hard nipples, rubbing my come all over her skin.

  “Lay down so you can finish,” I tell her, wanting her to reach climax completely. My come is coating her just like I wanted, just like she needed.

  “Touch me,” she begs. “Touch my pussy like you did before. Touch me until I’m coming all over you.”

  “You want me to finish you off?” I ask her, not wanting to take away any pleasure she might find in her own personal finger-fuck.

  “Fuck me like you love me, Jude,” she tells me, a smile of utter and complete happiness playing over her face.

  “Oh, boy—I’ll fuck you like I’ll marry you.”

  “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  “Oh, I mean it. I’m going to marry you before I’m done with you. And you better believe it.”

  “Jude,” she says, covering her face, laughing at my incredulity. “We can talk marriage and babies later. Right now, let’s just talk about your cock in my pussy. Let’s just talk about fucking until we fall asleep.”

  “Fine,” I tell her, not pushing her into anything she isn’t ready for. But hell, neither of us are ready for any of this. No one is. Because there’s no user manual, no Wikipedia page telling us the facts. The whens or the whys. All we’ve got is the nows.

  The right now.

  And right now, I love this woman.

  And so I tell her that again.

  “I love you, Catalina. So hard. And I don’t know what our love will look like, but that doesn’t fucking matter. Right now, I think our messy love is enough.”

  She has tears in her eyes again, and I feel bad, because she still hasn’t orgasmed. And what kind of fucker am I to tell a girl I love her but not get her completely off?

  So I do.

  I fuck her pussy all night long. My cock pounds her until she is pouring her sweet juice all over my cock, until her legs are slick with her pleasure, and my fingers pound her little pussy until she’s screaming in ecstasy.

  We fuck until we fall asleep in one another’s arms, and we’re in a cocoon of love all night long.

  We’re in a cocoon of love right up until the morning, when Rachel finds us naked on the back porch.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Catalina

  I wake to screaming. A woman screaming.

  Specifically, Rachel screaming.

  I’ve only met her in passing.

  And damn, right now, I wish she would just keep passing through. Because seriously, this is awkward as fuck.

  “Really? You’re fucking a new girl?” she yells, as Jude and I scramble to put on yesterday’s clothing.

  But I’m not ashamed. Not one tiny bit. I can’t think of when I’ve ever slept all night, under the stars, naked, in my lover’s arms.

  I loved last night.

  But I don’t love Rachel right now.

  “Don’t start with me,” Jude says, shaking his head as he tugs on his pair of jeans. “Seriously, Rachel. You’ve been sleeping with other people since the day we met.”

  “Oh, fine.” She relents more easily than I expected, swatting at the air. “But seriously, this is not cool. To see you fucking some girl at seven AM.”

  “She’s not some girl. This is Catalina. She’s my girlfriend. And we weren’t even fucking.”

  “Wow. One month away and you already found someone new.”

  Her eyes rake over me and I make an effort to swallow my insecurity. Rachel is drop-dead gorgeous, model thin—because, hell, she’s a model—tall as fuck, with piercing eyes.

  “Don’t start, Rachel,” Jude tells her. “After yesterday, I have no room for your judgment.”

  The way he speaks, so controlled, so utterly as a man, I feel my core tighten, remembering the way he touches me, loves me. Remembering that he and I … we’re a thing.

  Maybe more than a thing.

  Did he say the word marriage last night?

  It may have just been in passing, in the heat of the moment, but the word rolls around in my head as I follow Jude and Rachel into the house.

  Jude heads to the coffee pot and starts adding fresh grounds to the filter. My eyes blink open, as I was awoken so suddenly. This is not how I expected this day to go.

  “Where’s Etta?” Rachel asks. She drops her purse on the kitchen island as if this is her house.

  And with an uncomfortable realization, I remember that, not so long ago, it was. She and Jude were together a long time.

  “Etta was at Evangeline and Cassius’s house for the night. We needed a night off.”

  I expect Rachel to have a lot of opinions about this choice but, surprisingly, she doesn’t press. She just nods in understanding. Once again, I realize how much has passed between Jude and Rachel, how much I don’t understand.

  Of course they have a long history. They have a daughter together. No matter what happens between Jude and me, Rachel will always be a part of this family history.

  “Well, I came back to ask if you could go with me to my lawyer’s office later today. I need you to sign some papers, and I don’t want to wait on it.”

  Jude’s back is toward us as he pours water into the coffee pot. I see all the muscles in his back tighten as he absorbs Rachel’s request, and I’m amazed at his ability to remain so in command of himself, when I know how much Etta means to him. His restraint is a sign of strength.

  Lashing out would be a sign of weakness, and him not yelling at Rachel and cussing her out doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want Etta. It means that he’s not going to drag Rachel down.

  Jude’s not that sort of man, a man who needs to make people small in order to make himself feel big.

  Damn, I love him. I love him. And his back, with those muscles tensing—it makes me want to reach out and ease every strain. Makes me want to run my hands up and down his spine, over his shoulder blades, over his shoulders, and work out all of the pain and tension that he’s carrying. All the tension that was brought upon him the moment Rachel showed up.

  He doesn’t speak, and Rachel seems to think she needs to fill the silence.

  “Jude, I know I could have texted before I came, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to make things so cold and so … uncomfortable.”

  Jude turns around. “This is pretty damn uncomfortable. Wouldn’t you say?”

  Rachel stands. I notice she’s in last night’s clothes too, or else she’s just in really dirty ones now. Her tee-shirt is stretched out; her ripped jeans h
ave a ketchup stain on the knee. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and her eyes are red and tired, even though she didn’t have a baby keeping her up all night.

  I don’t understand her at all. How could anyone walk away from Jude?

  “Look,” Rachel says. “I know I haven’t been fair to you, at all. I haven’t been fair to Etta, either. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday. But I’m trying to get my shit together. That’s why I want to go the lawyer’s together.”

  “Fine, Rachel.” Jude’s jaw is so tense he could crack a fucking walnut with it. And besides that, I know he is on the verge of tears. Rachel seems to have no idea what she’s doing to him.

  “This is the address. The appointment is at one. And could you bring Etta?” she asks, placing a business card on the kitchen island.

  “Whatever you want, right?”

  “Right, Jude, whatever I want.” The lilt in her voice unnerves me. I watch her walk to the door with so much resolve I’m convinced she doesn’t want to leave. As if every single step she takes is made with intention … like all it would take is one slip, and she’d fall back in Jude’s arms.

  But I know Jude. I know that he loves me. And I know there’s not a choice to be made here—but if there were, I know I’m his.

  Rachel leaves, and Jude and I drink our coffee in silence, because what do you even say? How do you prepare your heart for the most tragic good-bye of your life?

  When Evangeline and Cassius bring back Etta, Evie insists on giving me a hug, squeezing my shoulders tight and apologizing once again for being a total bitch.

  Of course I forgive her, brush her off. This is Jude’s cousin, and all the things that she said to him, said about me, she was saying out of love. And if I know anything, I know this: love is fucking hard, and love can break your heart … but love is all we have.

  Jude tells Cash and Evie about what happened this morning with Rachel. About going to the lawyer’s later. Everyone is in tears, looking at Etta crawling around on the floor. This is her home. How can she leave it?