by Kacey Shea
“But what if I don’t?” I bite my bottom lip, my stomach twists, and my leg bounces faster. Maybe Cora’s horrible driving is partially responsible for my sudden spike in nerves. If this goes badly, there’ll be public humiliation—which I can handle—but spending the night alone in an empty hotel suite that cost a week’s worth of my salary might push me over the edge.
Cora swings the Hummer into the hotel drive, hopping the curb to find a parking spot. “You’re going to get your man.” She turns in her seat once the shifter is in park, and levels me with a stare. “But if not, we’ll get drunk on tequila, eat Doritos, and watch ‘80s movies.”
“Doritos? Really?” De’Shaun sticks out his tongue, then holds out his hand. “Phone?”
I place it in his hand, everything loaded into my social media channels and waiting for the push of a few buttons.
“Cora, honey. The rest is in your hands.” De’Shaun hands her the note I wrote earlier, the one that asks Jude to come upstairs. “Don’t forget to add the key.”
“You ready, Rae?” she asks.
Fuck. Here goes nothing.
51
Jude
The hotel opening is perfect. There’s champagne and shrimp. B-list celebrities, investors, and all the usual suspects. I mingle. I smile. I fake being okay, when deep down my mind is far away—stuck in the past. A reality in which I leave with the woman I love. I get the girl. This isn’t Hollywood, and I don’t get the happy ending.
“You brought my artist.” Darlene Sheehan, the owner of the hotel says, stopping by to give me a kiss on the cheek and gush over Chance.
“I am honored to create another piece for your hotel,” he says, ever the charmer.
“Another Chance Bateman original. It’s the centerpiece to this lobby.” She’s right. It’s stunning. What was a hunk of metal and trash only weeks ago, is now eye-catching, unique art. I may have given him shit about the bottle caps, but they really make the piece.
“I know the expedited timeline wasn’t easy to accommodate,” she says, smiling between us. “I’m sure Jude passed on my token of appreciation.” A five-thousand-dollar bonus.
“Yes, he did.” Chance lifts his glass. “Thank you.”
We toast and offer our well wishes to her new venture, though it’s not needed. Darlene’s business savvy makes all of her projects profitable investments. I should feel fortunate to be in the room of successful people; gratitude or self-appreciation at the very least. But instead, a deep dissatisfaction seeps into my mind. None of this matters. Not really. Not anymore.
Not without her.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out,” I say to Chance when Darlene moves on to chat with another guest.
“Jude.” He lifts his brows and glances around. He doesn’t say it, but I know he wants to. I’m bailing too early. This event is perfect for courting new clients, for making connections, and otherwise enjoying the fruits of my labor.
“Stay. You should be here. I’ll catch an Uber,” I say.
Chance blows out a breath, his disagreement obvious.
“Excuse me. Jude Lawrence, right?” A woman interrupts, touching my suit jacket. It’s Cora Bentley, an actress, a very popular one, and personal friends with Trent Donovan. She’s the person he passed Rachel’s information to when I called him for connections in the industry. She’s tall, blonde, and exactly the type of woman I would have been interested in before Rachel. Hell, she probably knows Rachel.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.”
“The same.” Her face brightens with a smile. “Do you have a second?” I don’t know if she wants to know for professional reasons, or personal. My bet is the latter, and I can’t get away fast enough.
“I’m sorry, I don’t,” I say. “I was just leaving.”
“Wait.” She hands me an envelope. “Please read this before you go. It’s important.” The way she put emphasis on important causes me to pause. There’s no sexual innuendo to her words or actions. It’s that and the fact she turns away without another word that feeds my curiosity. I’ve been handed hotel keys before. This isn’t a proposition.
“Open it already,” Chance says.
I grit my teeth, wanting to tell him to fuck off, but focus my irritable energy into ripping open the envelope. Inside is a note and a hotel key. My interest deflates like a balloon stabbed with a needle. I hand them over to Chance, annoyed at myself for anticipating anything different. “I’m out of here.” I pass through the crowded lobby and pull out my phone to request a ride.
Fuck this night. Fuck getting over Rachel. Maybe this was my penance. A lifetime of discontent for deceiving the woman I love.
“Jude!” Chance jogs out to the drive. His gaze lands on mine, eyes wide and expectant. “Jude, wait!”
“What?” My pulse races at his wild expression. Maybe it’s something with Aubrey?
“You need to get upstairs. Now.” There’s no question in his voice.
I shake my head, confused.
“Room 612. Here’s the key.”
“Chance. I’m not in the mood.” I push away the key he offers. There’s no way. I’m not sleeping with anyone, let alone some celebrity hookup.
“Mate.” His voice is stern. His scowl fierce. “You don’t understand. You need to be in this hotel room. You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you don’t.” There’s something in his delivery that catches my attention. Plants a seed of faith in my heart. It’s almost too much to hope for.
I lift my gaze; my lips part but words escape me.
He nods, as if he understands. “612. Go get her back.”
This time I take the card when he shoves it in my hand. I nearly trip over my feet as I race back inside the hotel. Not caring how insane I must appear, I run through the lobby, only stopping briefly to ride the elevator. My chest heaves and I’m out of breath when I stop in front of the door marked 612. Fuck, I’m out of shape. And nervous. My hands shake as I scan the key on the door and turn the handle to open it.
There she is. “Rachel.” Her name falls from my lips as a whisper. A prayer. A promise.
“Jude.” She smiles, but it’s reserved. Timid. She’s wearing one of my favorite dresses. The wrap kind that hugs all her curves. Her makeup is perfect, no surprise there, and her wide eyes don’t leave mine as I step inside. “You came.”
“How could I not?”
She swallows thickly. “I didn’t want to disrupt your party, or your big moment, but I couldn’t go another day.”
It’s almost too much to hope for. “Another day?”
“Without you.”
“Rachel.” I want to fall to my knees. I want to cry in relief. I want to pull her in my arms.
“I have something I want you to see.” She blows out a long exhale, her lips twitching with a nervous smile. “Please tell me you have your phone with you.”
“I do.” I pull it from my jacket and hand it over. She pulls up YouTube and before I can ask, she hands it back. It’s her, and this is her channel. I turn up the volume as the headline of the video fills the screen. How to create the perfect I’m sorry, I love you, evening look.
My stomach does a little flip, and emotion fills my chest. I glance at Rachel as her face fills the screen, and take a seat on the edge of the sofa.
“Hey, Rae here with all your makeup and beauty tips.” She’s sitting in front of a white wall, bright lights illuminating her face, and a mirror to one side. The dark circles under her eyes make her appear tired, but even without any makeup she’s beautiful. “Tonight’s episode is a little different than my usual format. Let’s get started. First, we’re going to apply our foundation, concealing the pesky circles under my eyes.”
The video shows her dabbing a beige liquid onto the soft skin beneath her eyes. “Mine are really bad, because I haven’t been sleeping. See, I kinda hurt someone I love, because he hurt me too.”
My gaze snaps up to Rachel—the one standing five feet away. She bites at the corner of her lower lip
and points at the phone, encouraging me to watch.
On screen she blends the color until her foundation is flawless. She presses her lips together, assessing her work before setting down the foam square. “And instead of communicating or listening to my heart, I let my past and the fear of getting hurt be my guide. I messed things up. Badly. And I hope he’ll forgive me.”
She holds a palatte up to the camera. “Which is why I’m going with a natural look. I’m choosing these colors because they’re subtle and work with my skin tone, but feel free to change it up. I also won’t be applying any mascara or eyeliner—and I know, how can that be?” She gasps dramatically.
My lips pull to a smile.
“But this could go badly. Even after I tell him how much I love him, that I don’t want another day to go by that I don’t talk to him, or how all I want is a second chance to love him better. Well, he could say he’s moved on, and that would make me cry. If my heart’s broken, the least I can do is not look like a wild raccoon!”
I glance from the Rachel on the phone screen to the one in front of me. Her eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears, but full of hope. My heart hammers in my chest. She loves me. She wants to be together. She wants to give us another chance.
“I’m also going to go with a sheer lip gloss. Because I have high hopes for kissing, and most guys don’t appreciate looking like a clown after a make-out sesh.”
She wants a kiss. She wants me. I drop the phone to the couch, shoving to my feet, and taking a step toward her. With each inhale, my chest feels a little lighter. Each move forward, like I’m righting a wrong.
“There you have it. It’s the perfect look for telling the person you love you’re sorry. If you’re feeling confident, you can pair it with a wrap dress and some flirty heels. Now, I’ve gotta run. Wish me luck because I’m off to find my man.”
She presses her lips together, her gaze never leaving mine as the video continues to play somewhere behind us. I can’t wait another second; I have to touch her. My hands splay at her hips, wrapping around her waist as I erase what’s left of the space between us.
“Drop your words of encouragement in the comments, and feel free to share or subscribe so you don’t miss my next video which will either be ‘Creating the Perfect I Survived My Broken Heart Weekend Brunch’ look, or ‘Creating the Perfect Look After Making Up with Your Man’ look. I’m Rae and I hope you have a lovely day! Until next time.”
Her chin tips up and the hint of a smile plays at her mouth. “What do you think?”
I cup her jaw in my hand, stroking my thumb across her cheek, my eyes dropping to her mouth. “My bet’s on the second look.”
Like the perfect wave on the horizon, coming in powerful and fierce, her lips crash with mine. She holds my heart. She’s my home. For the first time in three weeks my soul rests easy, relishing in the warmth her love provides. Our mouths move together, neither of us willing to bail. Riding this feeling all the way to shore.
“Rachel.” I tear my lips away and attempt to catch my breath. Pointless with the way my heart races. As much as my fingers itch to unwrap her dress like my favorite present, I won’t rush. I need to make sure this is real. That she’s committed for the long haul. “Did you mean it?”
“Every word.” She presses her hand to my chest, as if she can feel my heart. “I’m sorry I ran when it got hard. When I got scared. I won’t do that again. I promise.”
“I never said those things to Pierce, or made a deal with him. I wouldn’t—”
“I know.” She nods. “And I should’ve given you a chance to explain. It’s just, with all the other things you kept from me”—she swallows hard—“it was too much.”
My gut twists, knowing I let her down. That I hurt her. “I was wrong. What I did wasn’t honest, and I knew it. I should’ve come clean. I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did.”
“Don’t lie to me again. Even when you know I won’t like the truth. I might kick and scream and fight you on things, but I deserve to be part of the conversation.”
“I swear. I’ll always be honest.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” I cover her hand with mine, pressing it to my chest. “Don’t ever leave me again. I’m a mess without you.”
“I was hurt.” Her gaze lowers and she leans into me, allowing me to pull her close. “I felt betrayed because you lied.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “I never meant to hurt you.” I wish I could take away that hurt. Erase both hers and mine, but that’s impossible. All I can do is make the commitment to never let it happen again.
“I love you, Jude.” She sways into my body, her lips finding mine. A promise. A balm to my soul.
My response comes easy and quick, honest and true. “I love you, Rachel.”
“Stay with me.” She steps back, her hand dropping from my chest and for a moment she appears unsure. “Here. Tonight.” Her eyes blaze bright and her hand goes to the tie on her dress. She plays with it a little before pulling it loose. The fabric opens, falling to the ground in a pool. Though, I can’t really be sure. My gaze is glued to her beautiful body, the lacy bra and thong doing very little to cover her expanse of skin.
“Jude?” Her brows lift, and a playful smile tugs on her lips. “You still with me? Or do I need to put my clothes back on?” Her teasing words bring a smile to my mouth.
Oh, it’s on.
52
Rachel
“Come here.” Jude backs up, unbuttoning his shirt, and chucking his pants as if he’s in a race and naked wins first place. Which isn’t entirely wrong. His broad chest appears more chiseled than I remember, the sinewy muscles in his arms ready and waiting to take control.
I saunter closer, my entire body on fire for him. The way he looks always makes me feel like a goddess. Powerful. Sexy. Bold. “You promised to spank me.”
He lifts his brow with intrigue. “When did I do that?”
“In the dungeon.” My legs press together. I’ve never been that interested in kink, but the thought of Jude spanking me for pleasure, with my consent, sends a rush of desire through my core. Taking another step forward, I ditch one shoe.
“You’d like that?” he all but rasps, his eyes glued to my chest.
“I mean, yeah,” Other shoe. Bra. Panties. They hit the floor. “Just don’t hurt me.” I press his chest with enough force to send his ass to the edge of the bed. I step between his legs.
His face is inches from my nipples and he zeros his gaze there. “Maybe we need a safe word,” he mumbles to my left tit.
“Goat.”
His head jerks up. “Absolutely not.”
I shrug, as if I didn’t just scare the crap out of him. “You said to give you my safe word, and I pick goat.”
His head is shaking. “Goats and sex do not go together.”
“Then it’s perfect.”
“Who told you?” He narrows his glare. “It was Chance, wasn’t it? Fucker.”
I can’t hold it back. I have to laugh.
“Now, you’re just asking for it.” He tackles me to the bed, his fingers digging into my sides.
I scream. Laughter bubbles out, uncontrollable and incessant. “No! Jude! Stop it, right now!”
He tickles me harder and with more zest, even as I squirm and try to get out of his hold.
A slap to my ass takes me by surprise. As much as I hate being tickled, my thighs squeeze together as his palm lands on my butt. I want more of that. “Goat! Goat!”
His body freezes for a second—damn, he really is terrified of the animal.
I shove him to his back, crawling onto his body and straddling his hips as I catch my breath.
“You play dirty, Rachel.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” I bite back the urge to laugh. “We all have things we’re scared of.”
“The only thing I’m scared of is losing you again.” He swallows thickly, all humor gone.
“So don�
�t,” I whisper, leaning forward to brace my hands on the sides of his head. My hair falls around us and creates a curtain from the world. Just the two of us.
“Come here.” He drags me down so our lips meet.
“You liked it when I slapped your ass. Didn’t you?” His palm rubs slow circles over my skin as I rock my hips, sliding my center over where he’s rock hard for me. God, I’ve missed this. Being with him. Vulnerable and real. No judgment. Just love.
I unbutton his pants, lowering the zipper and gripping the waistband. Lifting my hips, I free his cock from his pants and briefs. I move the fabric of my thong to one side and line him up. His gaze is hot on mine, but he doesn’t take control. It’s as if he knows I need this. He wants it to be my choice. My decision.
“I missed you.” I stoke his hardness then sink down onto him with a moan. So full. So good.
His hands travel down my thighs, gripping and rubbing my butt cheeks. Slap! His hand delivers a sharp pinch of pain. “Ride me, sweetheart.”
“Yesss,” I exhale on a hiss. Arching my back, I press my hands to his chest and flip my hair back. Giving in to what my body craves, I grind down on him. Rocking. Riding. My hips swiveling in rhythm to a song our bodies create. The hotel room fills with whispered words of love, moans of pleasure, and breathy gasps.
Moving faster. Grinding harder. Sweat beads on my skin. My pulse races as my clit rubs against his pelvis with each gyration. I dig my fingers into his chest, reaching for my orgasm. Ready to soar, and at the same time wanting to drag it out. “Jude,” I beg. Needing. Wanting.
“You’re so fucking sexy.” Slap! His palm delivers another pinch of pain to my ass, then rubs it to soothe the skin. “I love watching you come.” His fingers grip my hips, taking over the heavy lifting. He guides my body and thrusts upward. Harder. Better.
“I’m gonna—” I cry out as the summit of my pleasure hits, and spins out of control, waves wracking my body in the wake.