My cock sought friction against his thigh as my other hand cupped his firm cheek. I imagined him bent over my motorcycle as I took him from behind, and that thought made me painfully stiffer.
“Fuck, Jude,” I groaned, and my forehead tilted against his shoulder.
He was thrusting into my hand now, and I lifted my gaze because I needed to see him unravel.
“You are so damned sexy,” I murmured as I tightened my fist and stroked upward.
His eyes glazed over as he hummed low in his throat. I wished we were somewhere private so I could actually see his beautiful cock and have the opportunity to take my time with it. Instead, I had the glow of the moon on the water as the clouds parted and the rain subsided.
When my fingers brushed against the crease of his ass, he was sent over the edge. His eyes screwed shut, his lips fell open, and the moan emitting from his throat was so erotic that my hand curled around my own erection as I watched him fly apart before my eyes.
Chest still heaving, he turned, and I felt his fingers bend over the top of mine as his grip tightened on my cock.
“Let me,” he said in a husky voice. “I want to feel you too.”
“Oh God. Please.” My voice was hoarse and needy, and I wanted release so badly that I slid my hand away so I could feel his fingers on my skin. He constricted his fist and pumped, inserting his thumb into the slit. “Oh fuck.”
His lips found the shell of my ear. “You’re a gorgeous bloke, Cory Easton.”
I gasped, not only because he’d used my full name, but because hearing those words from him nearly liquefied me from the inside out.
There was the distant gunning of an engine and then a flash of light in our peripheral vision, and he yanked his hand away. “Fucking hell, I should’ve never let myself—”
“I think it’s a patrol.” My eyes scanned the perimeter. I sure as fuck didn’t want to get caught skinny-dipping in the quarry. That thought was as effective as filling the pit with ice.
Jude charged toward shore, forcing me into action even though I was still so aroused, there were dots of light around my vision. “We need to get out of here.”
We ran to our clothes and began throwing them on, which proved difficult with wet skin. I fired up my bike, and we practically jumped on and sped out of the lot.
We passed a police cruiser as we climbed up the hill on the way out of the park. Since driving straight through wasn’t illegal, I avoided eye contact and continued on my way.
When we reached the top, I slowed down for the traffic light. I felt Jude grab roughly at my shirt, which was clammy and uncomfortable.
He rose off the bike in one smooth motion and began unzipping his board from his backpack. “What are you doing?”
“It’ll be better if we go our separate ways.”
“What? Why?” My brain remained in a fuzzy haze as I twisted around to look at him.
He skimmed his thumb across my cheek in a silent goodbye and then laid down his board on the asphalt.
I watched him roll away until he disappeared around a corner.
Later, as I lay in bed, I replayed the night’s events in my head. My hard-on would not die down, so I imagined the feel of Jude’s hands on me again as I jerked myself off beneath my sheets. I came hard and fast, then drifted off into a sound sleep.
14
A couple of mornings later, I awoke in pain and could barely swing my legs out of bed. My fucking back was acting up like it needed attention. Or maybe it was Damon who did—as if a day would ever go by without me thinking about him.
Maybe he was pissed at me for allowing another guy to take possession of all my damned senses. Yeah, I was completely losing it. Still, my back was no longer a silent reminder of the night Damon stormed out of that party half-drunk and got on his motorcycle to get the hell away from me. Trailing behind him to make sure he was safe, I’d watched his bike hydroplane and smash into the guardrail. My bike had followed suit, sliding against the asphalt, though my impact was lessened by my attempt to avoid the accident.
He’d been the one to lose his life.
I’d been fuming that night because Damon refused to even hold my hand in public. It was so damned immature, trying to oust him from the closet before he was ready. But he’d been flirting with some woman at the party as if he were straight, while I silently watched him suppress who he really was. We weren’t a perfect couple, we were young and our differences stark, but he was mine and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
I would live with that guilt for the rest of my life, though rationally I knew I never forced him to get on that bike drunk and drive like an idiot.
And now I was getting caught up in somebody else who didn’t seem to know who he was or what in the hell he wanted. Damn, I knew how to pick them, didn’t I?
But my attraction to Jude was explosive. Maybe the mystery of him, the forbidden aspect, added to it. Every time I was near him, my skin felt hot, my heart unstable in my chest, and I was frantic for any morsel from him—a word, a smile, a touch. He seemed innately familiar to me, like plugging a cord into an outlet, and we’d barely even scratched the surface of getting to know each other.
I jumped in the shower and let the hot water loosen my muscles. I was headed to Gram’s house this morning to drive her to the home center superstore to purchase a new dishwasher.
My doctor’s appointment wasn’t for a couple more days, but I’d taken the last of my prescription muscle relaxers last night. It always made me drowsy, the aftereffect a fuzzy feeling in my head, but I’d attempt to act as normal as possible in front of Gram. Usually, if I kept moving my back, it eventually felt tolerable.
Gram was waiting in the wicker chair on her porch. “Hi, darling.”
I slid off my bike and headed to her car in the garage. As I pulled open the passenger side door for her, I failed to contain my grimace.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Gram.”
She didn’t like when I fussed about her health, and I didn’t like when she gave it back. But there was no hiding my discomfort from her.
“I know my own grandchild.” She sank into the seat.
“It’s my back.” I slid behind the wheel. “It’s been worse since I had that lame fall with my ankle. I think Chopper yanked it out of alignment or something.”
She reached over to rub circles on my shoulder. “Did you make a doctor’s appointment?”
“Yeah, it’s at the end of this week,” I said, brushing it off. “In the meantime, I’m taking muscle relaxers. It’s all cool.”
“There’s got to be another solution,” she said. “You should ask your friend Jessie. Her mom works at the holistic center.”
I rolled my eyes, which was about the only part of my body that didn’t ache.
“It’s worth a try,” she said as I backed out of the driveway.
“I definitely will if this appointment doesn’t pan out.” Besides, it was no fun crouching over a tattoo in this condition either. “Promise.”
“Good.” She studied the view out the side window. After another minute of silence, she looked at me and then at the radio, lifting her eyebrows.
“What?”
“You’re unusually quiet,” she said. “By now you’d already have the music turned up or you’d be telling me something about work.”
She was right. My thoughts were so laser focused on other things, I’d even forgotten how I sometimes used music to tune out the silence.
Right then I’d been thinking about the extreme-sports event coming to town and how it had slipped my mind to ask Jude if he was involved. I could totally see Jude or some of those other guys participating in the competition and walking away with a hefty prize. I heard some of those skaters even turned pro and got sweet contracts with different companies.
I scrubbed my hand across my chin. “Just feeling off my game, I guess.”
I could feel her examining my profile, so I reached for the radio and turned it to a lo
w hum. I knew other questions would come, but for now, I needed the time to think.
When Jude walked in for our appointment later that day, I thought it would be awkward between us, having been so intimate at the quarry. Instead, the air in the room felt downright combustible.
We made small talk as Jude pulled off his shirt and lay down. As usual, he watched me closely as I gathered my supplies.
“Any regrets?” I asked in a hesitant voice.
“No… Yes… I shouldn’t have—” A wash of color crawled across his cheeks. “Not like that.”
Christ, at this rate, little work would get accomplished.
I felt his gaze on me like a brand as I continued my prep. “I might have to ask you to face the wall.”
He smirked. “Why is that?”
“So you stop looking at me that way.”
“How am I looking at you, Cory?” he whispered in a throaty voice, and my dick sprang to attention. This was the sexy, playful Jude from the quarry, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.
I angled an eyebrow. “Like you want to eat me with a spoon.”
His mouth quirked at the corner. “Maybe I do.”
“But no kissing allowed, right?” I couldn’t help saying it. Me and my big mouth. Still, we could use some sobering up, or I’d never get his tattoo finished.
He clamped his mouth shut, and I figured it was for the best because I needed to get to work. I fired up the machine and started on the area between his shoulder blades. Some of the branches were going to be tricky to fill in properly.
He squirmed at the first touch of my fingers, but then became reacquainted with the contact. He was familiar with having to show restraint, because it could prove disastrous to fidget through a tattoo.
“You should avoid any bodies of water in the near future until you’re completely healed,” I said, in my own way chastising him for not using precautions with his newest tattoo. “Though I understand the appeal.”
The groove of his dimple showed, and then he closed his eyes, maybe to center himself or tamp down on his thoughts about the other night. I stared at his gorgeous eyelashes and cheekbones before returning to the task at hand.
Most surprising was that I was getting used to this forced silence with Jude. I even found that I didn’t readily seek out conversations to fill the void with my other clients as much anymore. I realized it didn’t hurt so much, after all, to be alone with my thoughts. But if Jude noticed that change in me—and I’d bet Mr. Damned Perceptive did—he didn’t mention it.
After a few minutes of quiet, Jude’s low voice startled me. “Why is kissing so important to you?”
“I…I don’t know,” I said. His eyes remained closed, which was a relief because I didn’t need his scrutiny right then. “Never gave it much thought until one stubborn skateboarder came along.”
His eyes shot open as he scoffed, his gaze studying me.
I scrubbed my hand across my scruff, the bristly edges grounding me.
“I fancy your beard,” he remarked as his gaze followed my fingers. “I think I fancy your everything.”
“Yeah?” My heart clanked strangely in my chest. This man was slowly killing me. “Well, I fancy your everything too.”
His eyes softened, and heat rose like a firestorm in my stomach. I tried to tamp down on my accelerating breaths.
“As far as kissing is concerned,” I said, leaning forward, “it normally makes you feel more connected to a person.”
A breath caught in his throat, and his eyes shut tight. “And that’s the crux of the problem. You can’t—I can’t have that kind of connection with anyone.”
“It’s already there,” I pointed out. “Whether you like it or not.”
That was the true crux of the problem.
“Kissing has always meant something else.” His tone was halting. “People who wanted things from me.”
He said nothing more, and I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d meant by that. It made a slithery feeling crawl across my shoulders.
“I’m sorry. I only wanted…”
“What?” he asked, now meeting my eyes with an unyielding gaze. “What do you want, Cory?”
“I’m…not sure. I’ve never felt this sort of attraction to somebody before.”
“Never?” he asked, his eyes wide and glassy. “Not even your boyfriend…Damon?”
My face fell. Hearing his name out loud nearly gutted me, and Jude no doubt noticed the raw emotion on my face.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“S’okay. We had our ups and downs like any other couple,” I explained. “But I never felt this…whatever this is…every time he was near.”
I also wouldn’t confess that the thought of Jude leaving town made me feel nauseated and confused and strangely hollow.
He cleared his throat. “Were you together long?”
“Almost a year.”
“Did you love him?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation, and he rolled his lips as if to bite back a response.
And now it was time to flip the tables. “Have you ever been in love?”
There was a sharp flash of pain on his face, but his mouth never moved to respond.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I muttered.
He drifted off into the space of his own thoughts, and I couldn’t help envying this person I didn’t even know. Someone who’d earned Jude’s love. What in the hell would that feel like?
There were several long minutes of silence, where the only sound was the buzzing of the tattoo machine. Jude’s gaze was focused on me nearly the entire time, and I was getting used to his examination. Though I’d love to know what he saw. I hadn’t worn my hat today, but I wouldn’t admit that it was because he said he liked my hair.
The tree on his back was turning into a haunting thing of beauty. With the fresh ink, you’d be hard-pressed to notice his scars, though if you looked closely enough, you’d still be able to see the fleshy, raised parts of some of them.
Eventually Jude’s eyes slipped shut, and as he dozed, I couldn’t help thinking about his stepfather and what he might’ve done to Jude. Fuck, I wanted to cut off his balls and feed them to him for breakfast. I covered my dark thoughts with a cough, and one of Jude’s eyes blinked open. He studied me a brief moment before sliding it shut again.
“The scars I’m covering,” I asked after another minute, “they’re from your stepfather?”
His eyes flashed open, wide and cautious, but there was no response.
“True or false?” I softened my voice, hoping to finally understand. To build a bridge between us.
Again, no reply. But I saw the answer reflected plainly in his eyes. He couldn’t deny it.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” I asked the silence. “Is there danger?”
There was an imperceptible nod of his head.
Fuck, did it have to do with the Disciples?
“I wish to hell you would just tell me,” I said, feeling exasperated and discouraged all at once. “I won’t betray your trust.”
Silence.
And then I’d had enough. I turned off the machine, cleaned and bandaged the fresh tattoo, and began cleaning up.
I could feel his gaze on me as he sat up. “What?” I asked, pitching a plastic covering in the trash. “Just say it.”
“It’s not about trust,” he explained. “He’s a dangerous man. Ruined my life. I don’t…”
“You don’t what?” Frustration radiated from my bones, and I paced the room as he pulled on his shirt and reached for his backpack. “You don’t what?” I repeated, stopping in front of him. My heart banged around in my chest, terrified of his answer but needing it all the same. “Don’t want to share anymore of yourself with me? This is the end of the line?”
“Fucking hell, I’m not a total knobhead. I want you, Cory,” he replied, and I sucked in a jagged breath because he’d actually admitted it. “I just can’t have you.”
“Yo
u can’t pretend not to feel, Jude,” I said to his back as he inched toward the door, “because longing for someone is that much worse.”
He turned to gape at me, a mix of emotions crossing his face. Anguish and defeat and raw desire. It sliced at my gut, but I held my composure until he walked out of the room.
15
I met Emmy at the animal shelter, and after feeding and grooming some of the dogs, we grabbed the leashes to take them for a walk. We planned on trying out the brand-new dog park Emmy had worked tirelessly to help open. It was essentially a fenced-in grassy field in a section of Washington Park, where the dogs were allowed off leash. The idea was that they could roam free.
“Patch will eventually find a family,” I said as we headed east.
“Whatever,” she said, more grumbly than usual.
“Maybe if you change his name, he’ll get more interest,” I said in my usual teasing tone.
“Shut it.” She bumped my hip playfully and adjusted her hold on the three leashes.
Apparently, the family who’d visited Patch a couple of times and thought they might adopt him had changed their mind. It happened sometimes after a potential owner realized just how much work caring for a pet entailed. That was why the shelter had a strict policy of pre-visits that a family needed to fulfill before they could officially take a dog home. But I thought Emmy was secretly relieved that the family didn’t take Patch, even though I knew she’d feel guilty about that. She still held out hope she’d own him one day.
“You sure you didn’t want to ask Travis to walk with you?”
A pink hue traveled across Emmy’s cheeks as she shook her head.
“You should just invite him somewhere. Maybe to the bar on Thursdays.”
“He’s my boss,” she said, as if the idea was positively scandalous.
“Honey, you’re a volunteer at an animal shelter. It’s not like he’s signing your paycheck.” I redoubled my grip on the leads. “Besides, you’re an adult. A gorgeous woman. And a woman he definitely notices.”
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