17
I sank down on my bike and considered riding the fuck out of there. But it was obvious that it didn’t matter where the hell I was or what I did; these guys already knew my business. I was made their business because of Jude, of that I was certain.
I rode out of the lot and drove around the block. I parked on the side street, then headed to the back door of the skate shop on foot.
Jude was tangled up with the Disciples. I should’ve turned around and left, but I couldn’t force myself to go. Vaughn’s words about Jude bolstered my resolve.
The screen was locked, but I could see the length of the hallway to the storefront. The lights were turned low because the shop was closed, and there was a soft glow coming from what looked like the back office.
I rapped my knuckles lightly on the door, and when Jude rounded the corner toward me, my heart crashed against my rib cage. This guy disarmed me every single time, and I’d only just seen him a few minutes ago. But something about knowing we were going to be alone again made my head spin.
“What’s up?” I asked when he opened the door for me to enter.
He looked over my shoulder to the lot. “Where’s your bike?”
“Side street.” Suddenly I felt restless. On edge. “L-look. Maybe I should just go.”
“You should leave if that’s how you feel. I don’t even know if this is a good idea,” he said, his voice laced with uneasiness. “Ah…fucking hell. It’s just that I thought I’d show you something.”
“O-okay.” I stepped inside, and he released a breath as if relieved I’d stayed.
We stood staring at each other in the dim hallway with only a sliver of space between us.
“It’s really fucking weird to sneak around like this.”
He tensed his fist as if he wanted to reach out or say more.
“I just wish I understood some stuff,” I said. “I know you don’t want to tell me anything, but hell, I’m already connected to you—at least through your ink and whatever the hell that was at the quarry.”
He bit his lip and dropped his head.
I sighed heavily. “So why did you ask me here?”
“I might have an idea how to help your back.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, and the disappointment washed over me. “I’m listening.”
“Skaters get lots of injuries from falls, and I’ve got a couple of tricks up my sleeve.”
I smirked. “Tricks, huh?”
He motioned over his shoulder for me to follow.
It was strange to see the shop from this angle because I had really only appreciated it from the front view, where all the boards hung in neat rows. The Board Room carried not only skateboarding and snowboarding wares, but also odds and ends for summer and winter sports. I’d been inside the store once a couple of years ago when I needed some snow equipment for a weekend trip I’d taken with some guy named Andrew. A guy I’d now like to forget. But at least he didn’t leave me with his damned dog as a souvenir.
Jude grabbed something off a low shelf and headed to the back room, where I noticed a table with deconstructed skateboards. “Is this where you work?”
Jude nodded as he rummaged around in the desk.
“Do you enjoy it?” I propped my bicep against the doorframe.
“Only second to actually skating.”
“Do you compete?”
He looked up, his lips thinned. “No.”
“You hear about the extreme-sports event coming to town?”
Distress flitted through his eyes for a brief moment, but I couldn’t figure out why. Skating was the one area I figured he’d feel most confident. “Yeah. I hope to go.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there. Raw Ink is a sponsor, so we have free tickets.”
The other side of the office was messy, with random boxes strewn about in front of a large black couch and small refrigerator, which were next to a countertop with a microwave. Obviously this space doubled as an employee break room, and I wondered if Jude ate his lunch sitting on those oversize cushions.
“So what’s the idea you have?” I asked, now looking at some signed and framed professional skateboarding photos on the wall.
He held up his finger and brought out the tube of tennis balls he’d swiped from the front of the store. He tore open the package and reached for the duct tape he’d yanked from the drawer. He pulled out a strip, intent on his project as he began winding it around three green balls.
“You can lie down on the settee—er, couch—as soon as I move that box.”
I looked over at the black cushions; one side was free, and the other had a box labeled wheels. “Let me do it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Trying to strain your back even worse?”
“Dude.” I rolled my eyes. “Pretty sure I know by now how to properly distribute the weight to my legs to lift heavy objects.”
His gaze darted to my thighs, possibly recalling what we’d been up to in the quarry water, and I saw him swallow thickly.
Holy Christ, this guy was hot. And he wanted me to lie down? At this point I’d do anything he asked.
He used his teeth to rip the tape, securing the last piece in place. I couldn’t help but stare at those red lips he wouldn’t allow me near the other day. What was it he’d said? That people only wanted things from him. The thought of that made a tremor travel along my neck. Maybe that’s why Vaughn had said that he was finally safe.
But what in the hell did that mean? And why did I have this overwhelming desire to be the one to make him feel secure and protected, locked up tight in my arms all night?
I was so lost in my fantasies that I was startled when he moved to the couch; he lifted the heavy box and placed it on the floor.
“On your stomach, Cory.”
My eyebrow shot up, and a blush crept across his cheeks.
“If that’s the way you want me,” I mumbled, not brave enough to meet his gaze because my erection had lengthened against my zipper. The only saving grace was that in a prone position I’d be hiding the evidence.
As he stood over me, I pictured him in all his naked splendor, touching me, and Jesus, I needed to think about other things, like lying on a bed of nails or something.
My back was on fire, but being in close quarters with Jude had kept my mind off it for a good several minutes. In fact, it had been hurting for so many days in a row, it was starting to feel part of my daily routine.
But the pain had now transitioned to a dull ache, similar to the way it felt lately at night. Usually I’d take a muscle relaxer, and it would make me drowsy enough to fall right asleep.
“Have you heard of tennis-ball therapy?”
I shifted to stare at him. “Tennis-ball what?”
His lips tilted upward, and he looked like the devil. An extremely sexy and naughty devil. Jesus fuck.
“I know it sounds dodgy, but it’s not.” His eyebrow rose in challenge. “Trust me?”
18
“You’re asking me that question as I’m lying here in pain,” I said, cringing as I tried adjusting myself on the cushion. “When you hardly even trust me.”
He shut his eyes momentarily. “Trust is hard for me.”
“And you think it’s easy for me?”
“Easier, yes,” he said, and I let out an exasperated breath. “And what things don’t I trust you with, anyway?”
As soon as he said the words, he winced. He’d caught himself and was waiting for the fallout.
“You don’t trust me enough to tell me your story,” I said. “And then let me decide whether I want to stick around.”
He sighed. “There’s more to it than that.”
“Such as?”
“Such as safety.”
“Safety.” I felt like we were talking in circles again.
I got it. I was worried about that too, especially now that I figured out he was involved with the Disciples. But I knew where this conversation would go, and I’d end up frustrated and maybe even
walking out. Right now I just wanted this alone time with him. Because these moments were few and far between. And Jude had actually invited me here because he cared. He definitely cared.
“How about the safety of my body parts?” I tucked a smile in the side of my cheek.
“Your body parts?” He tried to keep the smirk off his face.
“Yeah, Doc. Maybe I should be concerned. Or maybe you’ve got some crackerjack operation going on back here. The other night with my foot, and now you’re trying to fix my back.”
He bit back a grin. “I do worry about that.”
My eyebrows rose. “Worry how?”
“That if I’m not gentle, you won’t let me look after your body parts again.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Glad to know you think so much about my body parts.”
“All the time, you cheeky bastard,” he deadpanned.
I chuckled. I’d been called a bastard before, but never in my life had I been called a cheeky one.
“Any other parts of me?” I whispered.
His gaze scanned the length of my body, landing back on my eyes. “Do you even know how sexy you look waiting there for me?”
“About as sexy as you look lying on my table at Raw Ink?”
He pulled back and gulped audibly. “Torture, mate.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled to himself as if he’d suddenly questioned his own sanity.
Screw this. I wasn’t going to lie here in this fucked-up position, anticipating the moment he’d change his mind. “You’re the one who invited me here, not the other way around.” I propped my elbows on the cushion in an effort to stand up.
“No, wait.” He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. “I…I’ve not really been around anybody in a bit. Nobody I’d been really attracted to.”
My pulse spiked. “Seriously?”
“Definitely,” he muttered.
It was similar to what Vaughn had said, but what exactly did that mean?
“And speaking of body parts,” he added, “I honestly questioned whether a few of mine would ever get a workout again. But then you’d come around with your dogs, and my stomach would get tied up in knots, and my…” He looked down at his lap. “Well…you know.”
His breathing was erratic, and I was beginning to feel guilty for bringing all this on as my chest throbbed.
At least I wasn’t in this alone. But I wasn’t the one fighting it so hard. I thought about Vaughn’s words again and about Jude needing some company.
“It’s cool, Jude. No pressure. We don’t ever have to—”
“I’m not saying I don’t want to. I just don’t know if it’s…smart.”
“I get it, okay?” I said, letting him off the hook. “Let’s just move to the tennis-ball magic.”
He swallowed roughly and nodded, edging closer to the corner of the couch. His trembling fingers stretched to my waist, and I remembered how it felt to be skin to skin with him at the quarry.
“Here?” he asked, putting pressure on my lower back. I groaned.
“Is it alright if I lift your shirt?” His voice was low and smooth and in such stark contrast with the confidence he’d shown in the water.
His fingers pulled the bottom of my shirt up, and his hands felt so warm on my back. He placed the tennis balls firmly on my skin, and once he applied pressure, my breath stole away from my body.
“Give it a couple of minutes, mate,” he said low in my ear. “I think it’ll work.”
I could scarcely breathe because the pressure was so intense. I fisted my hands and dug my head into the cushion.
“I used to think I wanted to go into sports medicine,” he said, and I could tell he was trying to get my mind off the pain. “I’ve taken some online courses here and there. Maybe I will again someday.”
“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing, Doc,” I groaned. “You’re killing me.”
I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Like I said, trust me.”
After another minute more, the throbbing began to lessen somewhat. I lifted my head from the cushion and turned my gaze to him.
“So, did you grow up around here?” he asked.
“Yeah, my grandmother still lives over on Barlow Avenue,” I said. “What about you? You told Emmy your family had some land, and you said you haven’t lived in England since you were a teen. Are your parents still in the States?”
Silence.
“Dude, seriously?” I panted through the agony. “You asked me stuff, so I should be able to—”
“I haven’t seen my dad since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,” he said in a rush. “And my mum’s dead.”
“Fuck, man, I’m sorry.” I tried to meet his gaze, but he was staring at the floor. “My mom’s dead too. My grandmother raised me.”
His gaze slowly lifted to mine, sorrow evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mate. Bet you miss her.”
“I was ten when she died from breast cancer. I remember some moments vividly, but then my grandmother became my whole world. And it kinda bums me out that she’s growing older now too.”
What in the hell was I even revealing? Again the motormouth. To a guy who was hard-pressed to share anything with me. I was surprised I didn’t confess my biggest fear of all—that pretty much everybody in my life left me. Jude would move on soon enough too. Probably before we got any more time to get to know each other. He’d warned me, for Christ’s sake. And here I was falling down the rabbit hole.
Jude’s gaze had softened, and he looked pretty miserable.
“You miss your mom?” I asked.
“I miss her every day,” he said in a tortured voice. “Losing her gutted me.”
Holy fuck, I was struck dumb by his revelation. He was such a contradiction of hard edges and soft angles that I was getting whiplash. I couldn’t reach for him from this position, and Christ, did I have the intense need to soothe him right then. Instead, I showed him with my eyes how damned sorry I was. “How did she pass away?”
All at once his face turned dark. Scary dark. There was rage in the depths of his eyes, and I didn’t need to ask further. I already knew: it was the same person who’d put those scars on his back.
19
“Shit,” I mumbled. “Is he in prison?”
Again, silence, except for Jude attempting to rein in his harsh breaths through his nose.
“No, huh?” I whispered, and he stared past me to the wall, neither confirming nor denying. “Damn.”
Some things began lining up in my brain. Was Jude indebted to the Disciples in some way? Did it have to do with his stepfather? I stayed quiet, thinking it through, because no way in hell was he going to tell me anything more.
And then I felt something give way in my back, like a rope knot abruptly loosened. I arched my neck and breathed out in relief.
“You felt that?” Jude asked.
“God, yes,” I replied, feeling overwhelming respite from the pain. “I can’t believe that worked.”
He rolled the tennis balls along my lower back a couple more times and then removed them from my skin.
“Turn over, Cory.” His voice sounded low and hoarse, and when I looked into his face, I saw so many conflicting emotions there. I couldn’t pinpoint any one of them, except maybe affection and worry.
I propped my elbows on the cushion and flipped myself over. “Is there a part two in this magic remedy?”
His hip was now touching mine, and my shirt was partially lifted over my abs. His gaze swept over my skin and then to the front of my pants, which tented painfully. Now that my hands were no longer at an awkward angle, I couldn’t help touching him, so I patted his knee. “Thanks for taking care of me again.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Is that really how you see me? As a caretaker?”
“Docs are caretakers,” I replied smugly. “Figured that was your thing.”
“Apparently only with y
ou,” he leaned down and whispered.
“Nice to hear.” Heat climbed up my neck to my cheeks. “Bet your mom would’ve said you were. It’s in your nature.”
His eyes became glassy, and his fingers reached out to pat mine, then stilled, so that now he was sort of holding my hand. It felt so fucking perfect.
“Guess so,” he said, looking away as if embarrassed. “The next thing I’m going to have you do is to slip these tennis balls under your back. It creates a pressure point.”
“So I’m supposed to lie on them,” I said, my thumb absently gliding over his knuckle as if holding on to him was the most natural thing in the world.
“You could also do this up against a wall, I suppose.” He looked over my shoulder. “But I kind of like having you defenseless like this.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
He placed the tennis balls beneath my back, and I adjusted my position over them. I could feel my muscles stretching, but I was more interested in keeping Jude talking.
“Because you have a hard time being still. Same thing with keeping your trap shut.” He arched an eyebrow.
“Now who’s being a cheeky bastard?” I said, and he laughed. “So you like holding me hostage?”
“I do.” His gaze ensnared mine, and it was like we couldn’t look away from each other without effort. “You’ve been a good little captive.”
“I think I’ve done really well putting up with all your silence.” I smirked, then grew serious. “Though I’ve been able to live in all that quiet a little better lately. Guess that’s progress.”
His eyes turned to a dazzling liquid jade, and I could’ve swum in them eternally.
“How do your muscles feel?” he asked, adjusting his fingers.
I hummed. “Relieved.”
He reached under and pulled the line of tennis balls from beneath my back. “Enough stretching for one night.”
I could’ve gotten up at that point, but I didn’t want to for anything. It felt so good lying there with my pain temporarily abating, and as reprieve ballooned in my chest, I shut my eyes, nearly growing drowsy.
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