by Kacey Shea
I’m not giving up, but I better up my game. I have less than a week before Mark returns her car. A twinge of guilt hits me, knowing it’s ready for her now. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt a thing. But deep down that doesn’t ring true. I don’t think Rachel would appreciate my lie of omission, so I’ll have to be extra careful she never finds out.
27
Rachel
Living with Jude is surprisingly awesome. Not that I thought it’d be horrible when I agreed to his offer. It’s just, I imagined it’d be more awkward. Or I’d feel as if I was in his way, an inconvenience. Instead, he’s treated me better than an out-of-town guest. We fall into a routine, and each evening when he comes to pick me up from work, we have dinner together. Tonight we opt to stay in, order Thai, and stream the latest crime documentary everyone’s been raving about.
Honestly, it’s like we’re in a relationship but without the sex. Which sounds ideal, until you’re sitting across the couch from a hot as hell, kind, witty, cocky businessman with disheveled hair, turned on in spite of the deplorable images playing on screen, wondering why exactly you said you’d never sleep with him.
The closer we get to the weekend, the more I can’t stand the thought of going back to my apartment. It’s not because of my vile roommates, either. No, it’s that I can’t imagine going back to a day where I don’t spend time with Jude, or Walter. Despite my best efforts, I’ve become attached.
“Wow. That was—” Jude sits forward and clicks off the television.
Shit. I was busy daydreaming. I didn’t catch the end of the documentary, though it was pretty obvious who was guilty. “Right?”
“Crazy. Makes me think I’ve had a charmed life.” He shakes his head and then stands. “Also, I am never using a ride share app again.”
I stretch my arms overhead and yawn. “I’ve only had one bad experience, and really, until Iron Maiden died on the freeway, I’d rather drive myself anyway.”
“Not sure driving that old hunk of metal is any safer.”
“Hey! She’s a classic. And you will not compare her to a psychotic murderer.” I point at his smiling face. “Take it back.”
“She’s a classic, huh?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I’m going to take Walter out.”
“Want me to come too?”
“No, I won’t be long. Besides, I’ve kept you up late enough on a work night.”
“Totally worth it.” The admission flies from my lips almost breathy. Jude stares. Oh, my God! Did I just use my sex voice? The air in the room seems thicker. Jude’s mouth suddenly becomes the most interesting thing and I can’t look away.
“Thai food!” I blurt louder than necessary. The tension pops, and I can breathe again, even if Jude observes me like some crazed animal inside a zoo cage. “It was really good. The food, and your company of course. Walter. Thank you.” Shut up. Shut up, please.
“Right. I’m just gonna . . .” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder and backs away.
Now would be the perfect time for the universe to swallow me whole. No luck. Instead, when Jude leaves I rush to the bedroom and shut myself in for the night. A self-induced time out for my inappropriate thoughts and spaztastic behavior.
I can’t sleep. Crazy as it is, Jude’s condo is too quiet. There’re no roommates coming in and out at all hours of the night. No thin walls and cheap windows to let in the sounds of sirens and LA nightlife.
Oh, and I can’t stop thinking about my temporary roomie. My thoughts are anything but platonic, bordering on obsessive. I keep picturing the different faces he makes. His open laugh when I make a joke. His softer smile when Walter does something cute. The wicked grin that causes my heart to thunder in my chest while I wonder what he’s thinking. I fixate on that one the most.
After staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever, I glance at my phone to find only ten minutes have passed since the last time I checked. I’d watch a movie or read a book but my mind is too restless to focus. I need to relax. Need to work off this energy. But the only activity that would result in both of those things has me visualizing Jude naked and doing deliciously dirty things to my body while I touch myself. As sexually frustrated as I am, I refuse to give in to that urge.
It would be a dangerous slippery slope, fantasizing about fucking him. I might develop feelings. I might act on said feelings. I would absolutely end up hurt. That’s the number one reason I shouldn’t sleep with him. Besides, we both agreed to those terms during my stay, and at the end of the day, I really don’t want to fuck Jude.
Liar.
It’s the dog. It’s cute as hell little man, Walter. That’s what has me softening my feelings toward Jude. Waver in my resolution to keep things platonic. That and the almost kiss in the club. Or the fact he gave me his room. The glimpses I get of his generous and protective spirit. My fingers slide under the waistband of my sleep shorts.
Ugh. I can’t lay here anymore.
Quiet as possible, I slip out from the bed and crack my door slowly. The condo is silent. Jude’s probably been asleep for hours. I step past his closed door and move toward the kitchen, my destination a glass of water.
A groan, manly and low, stops me in my tracks.
Was that . . ?
“Yes.” Jude’s familiar tone drags out the word. “Yeah, sweetheart. Touch me like that. You know that makes me hard.”
Shit. Did he invite someone over? While I’m staying here! The last thing I want to see is Jude fucking some woman. What is wrong with me? And what is wrong with Jude? He has a freaking bedroom, why is he sexing some girl in the living room?
Carefully, I retreat to sneak back to my room.
“Rachel, fuck me.”
Rachel? Did he just call her Rachel? Jealousy, ugly and green, pulses inside. Is he sleeping with someone named Rachel? Sick curiosity pushes me closer to the groans of pleasure. His voice carries in the quiet. Strange. No other voice or sounds add to the mix.
Four more steps and I peer around the corner to discover why.
Jude. Gloriously naked. Reclined on the sofa. Alone. My breath catches at the sight of him. One fist strokes up and down his thick cock. The other brushes across his chest, over his nipples, and back down his abs. He’s touching himself. He’s saying my name and touching himself.
Why is that so hot? My breath hitches. Shivers shoot down my spine. My body feels hot all over. Fuck. I’m turned on. So turned on, in fact, that it takes all my resolve not to give in to the urge to stay here and remain watching. Or slide a hand into my shorts. Maybe join him?
That’s the thought that sends me flying back to my room. No, this is his room. Fuck. I lock the door behind me so I’m not tempted to invite him in. This is what happens when you abstain for months, letting the sexual frustration build. Right?
I go to the bathroom and splash water on my face, as if somehow that will wash away the image of him hard, erect, and stroking himself. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite back a groan of frustration, then stomp back to bed. I spend way too much effort arranging the pillows before flopping back onto them. But it doesn’t help. My heart still races. The naughty visions race through my mind. I strain to listen for any movement or sounds in the condo.
Does he know I watched him?
That it turned me on?
Was that his plan?
My body buzzes, amped up with anticipation and needing release.
I could take care of this myself. I packed my vibrator. Not that I planned on using it, but more, I didn’t trust my roommates with anything left behind. Besides, it’s too loud. He’ll hear me, like I heard him. Does that make it fair play? Fuck. What is wrong with me? I am not getting myself off, in his sheets, when he’s down the hall doing the same.
I inhale slowly, desperately calming my thoughts and racing heart. Mistake. Big mistake. Because his sheets, they smell like him—all masculine, strong, and take charge. Okay, so I don’t really understand how something can smell strong and dominant, but I swear his bed does.
Fuck. I want nothing more than for Jude to take charge with me.
Rachel. The memory of how my name sounded on his lips scatters goose bumps across my flesh.
Screwed. That’s exactly what I am when it comes to getting sleep tonight, and not for the reason my body wants.
28
Jude
Giving Rachel my bedroom is self-induced torture. All I can do is imagine her in my sheets doing naughty, depraved things. It’s what I jacked off to last night in the living room after she retreated to my room for the night, and again this morning in the shower. Yet when she walks out, ready for work in one of her outfits that begs for my eyes to stayed glued to her body, I have to move behind the kitchen island to adjust myself. It’s that or embarrass myself. Fuck. I’m sixteen all over again in her presence. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” She won’t meet my eyes. Strange.
“Breakfast?”
“I’ll eat at the studio.” She glances around, her gaze stuttering on the view of the ocean. The morning fog obstructs most of it, but in another hour it’ll burn off. Still, the view is impressive. The floor-to-ceiling windows sold me on this place.
“Do you mind dropping me off a few minutes early?” She doesn’t lift her gaze to mine.
“Sure. You ready now?”
“Yes.” She wraps her hands around the coffee I hand her, adding sugar and cream. “Sorry. I should have asked you last night.” She clears her throat. Brings the cup to her lips for a sip.
“It’s not a problem. Sleep well?”
She coughs, a choke almost as if her drink goes down wrong.
“Rachel, are you okay?”
“Fine.” She holds up a hand to keep me from coming close. “Fine. Sorry.” She turns and walks back toward the hall. “I’m just gonna grab my bag and we can go.”
Weird. I glance down at Walter. “That was weird, right?”
He shimmies in place, anxious for more attention. I crouch down and scratch along his back, trying for the life of me to figure out the source of Rachel’s odd behavior. She’s admittedly not much of a morning person—this I already know. But she’s never been so uncomfortable. Was it something I said? I can’t think of anything.
Rachel returns with her bag and coffee, heading straight to the front door without a look. I harness Walter and jog after her, catching up before she hits the elevator call button. Normally, we’d exchange a few words. A glance and a smile. Something. But today she’s uncharacteristically silent, and the quiet stretches in discomfort. I want to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t want to offend her, or bring up something she’s obviously unwilling to talk about, so I stay quiet.
If she’s upset, she’ll tell me about it when she’s ready.
Patience. Understanding. These are traits women look for in a partner. Or so I’ve been told. I need to wait for her. The same way I’ve been waiting for her to change our relationship status from friends to lovers.
So I drive and wait, and wait, and wait. She doesn’t say a word. Not to me. Not even to Walter.
I should be awarded a fucking medal of perseverance. Still, she doesn’t even look at me.
Praise the Lord, traffic is light, and as I exit the off-ramp near the studio, my phone rings. Saved by the bell! Only, I’m not. Pierce’s name flashes on the caller ID and I immediately send him to voicemail. No way in hell I’m taking one of his calls on speaker again.
I pull into the lot and pull to a stop before the entry, as I have every day this week.
Rachel reaches for the door.
“Hey, Rachel.” I reach out and touch her forearm. I should persist with the patience thing, but it will eat me up all day if she leaves without saying something.
“Yeah?” She pulls her arm away, reaching for her bag, but the fact she’s no longer exiting like a woman on the run calms my nerves.
“Have a great day. Okay?”
Her eyes lift to mine, and her lips part before she presses them into a smile. “Yeah, thanks. You too.” It’s the most I’ve gotten all morning. I’ll take it.
Once she’s out of the SUV and I’m back on the road, I return my missed call. “Hey, Pierce.”
“Jude! My man.”
I’m not his man. I paste on a smile so I’ll sound friendly. It’s a trick my mom taught me when I was younger, and it works. “What can I do for you?”
“I need my dungeon.” There’s a shuffle through the line, and then the bang of a door shutting. “What’s the status?”
“The contractors will be in next week. You’ve already met with the interior designer.” I know he liked the custom spanking table because I sent him photos as soon as I had it safely stored. Does he want me to check in with every little update? Hold his dick? Probably. “I promise the finished project is going to blow your mind.”
“I hope it blows more than my mind.” He chuckles.
He’s such a tool. “We’re on target and budget.”
“Did you meet with the club like I asked? The one in Pasadena?”
No. I hoped that was merely a suggestion. Good thing I built in a decent bonus to my quote, because Pierce is going to suck up all my attention with this job. “I should be able to stop by this weekend.”
“Great, man. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
Definitely not. I have no intention of visiting during operating hours. Might be able to talk the owner into a private tour. I’ll call them as soon as I’m back in my office. Not that any tour would be for my pleasure. Which gives me an idea . . . “Hey, I have to run, but I’ll keep you posted on any updates.” I say good-bye and concoct a risky but possibly genius plan.
29
Rachel
The ride to work with Jude was the most awkward and uncomfortable yet. All because I couldn’t meet his gaze without thinking of his penis. And once I started thinking about his dick, I couldn’t help wanting to touch it, and myself, and jump his bones. Fuck. Not good. Not good at all. This weekend is going to be excruciating.
“What’s with you today?” De’Shaun whispers from where we stand back from one of the sets. We spent all morning beautifying the actors for a day of filming, and now it’s a waiting game until they need us next.
“Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Honey . . .” He stares, his brows lifting high. “We’ve been here for four hours and you are just now telling me this! Spill the tea, sis! I want all the dirty details.”
“It’s not that.” At least, not in the way he thinks. I try not to pout.
“Aw, tell De’Shaun your problems.”
“It’s nothing.” If you consider catching your temporary roomie jerking off with your name on his lips nothing. A spike of arousal heats my cheeks with a blush. “I should be focused on other things.”
“Girl, don’t lie to me. I’ll harass you until you dish, so you might as well get it over with.”
“You know how I’m staying with a friend?”
“The rich dude who rescued you off the freeway, then invited you to live in his castle?” He sighs, then rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”
“Condo. You make it sound like some sort of fairytale.”
“Could be. Especially if he’s packing a golden rod.”
I cough, choking on air at the thought of Jude’s very generous rod. Well, what I saw of it from afar. A shiver works up my spine.
“You little minx!” De’Shaun gasps, drawing the glare of the sound crew. He winds his arm in mine and practically drags me outside. We shuffle past a few cast members and staff until we’re around one side of the building. “The anticipation is killing me! What gives?”
I twist my hands together and exhale a deep breath. “Last night I was having trouble sleeping, so I went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Only, I got distracted.”
“Girl. Spit it out. I’m dying.” De’Shaun’s eyes are the widest they’ve ever been. He playfully slaps my shoulder. “Please tell me you fucked him!”
“Let me talk!
” I glance around, but no one is close enough or paying attention. I lower my voice anyway. “He was . . .” I form a fist, gesturing my hand up and down.
“Milking a cow?” De’Shaun deadpans.
Laughter bursts from my gut, and I cover my mouth to stop it. De’Shaun presses his lips together, but it’s no use. We give in and giggle uncontrollably like two school girls.
“You caught him stroking the bandit. So? Please tell me you joined in? Offered him a helping hand?”
I sober and shoot him a glare.
“Fine. At least tell me you stayed to watch.”
I bite my lip, because yeah, I did that. Which feels like a huge violation of Jude’s privacy. I just couldn’t get my feet to move. Not with the way he said my name. “He didn’t catch me.”
“But you stayed.” A giant grin paints De’Shaun’s lips. “My dirty little Rae of sunshine.”
“He was saying my name. While—” I repeat my half-ass version of the obscene motion. My next words escape in a rushed exhale. “And I liked it. But we have clear boundaries. Or so I thought. Now I can’t look him in the eye and it’s Friday and I was planning to stay at his place all weekend. I don’t know what to do.”
“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot to process.” De’Shaun blinks and assesses me—probably reconsidering his decision to befriend me. “First and most importantly, you want to bang him.”
“What? No.” But that’s not true. I do want Jude. If I’m being honest, I’ve been wanting him all week. Each night we’ve spent together, he’s given me glimpses of a persona he doesn’t show most people, and one I’ve come to admire. The mask of pure desire, devotion, and lust I witnessed last night, well, it seals the deal. I inhale a ragged breath, and exhale honesty. “Yeah, I do.” I want Jude Lawrence. Consequences be damned.