by Lia Slater
“A sister?” Definitely not. “No.” But what an odd question. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
“Come on. Let’s see what Millie has in store for us.” Her small hand warmed his and she held it as she led him into the dining room.
Good. Maybe Sweater Vest would think Naomi was with him.
Jude should be so lucky. If Naomi wanted to find a man, hopefully he had the emotional capacity to treat her right. Like Davis had.
No. Damn, he couldn’t imagine her with another man. Only in his dreams did he dare think of her with anyone. And in those, Jude was the one to fulfill her needs and desires. No one else.
He tucked her hand safely in the curve of his arm and stood with her at the foot of the dining room table. Like a couple. Like Naomi was his.
“Attention, everyone.” Millie clinked a fork on Michael’s champagne glass. Michael grinned up at her and ran his hand along her back. The poor schmuck had been under her spell since long before their wedding.
Jude tried to block out the wonder of what it might feel like to share a love so strong. It would be selfish of him to even consider the possibility. Women didn’t love him. Women felt pity for him. Some lusted. Despite the scars on his body, women pursued him. But none of them affected him.
His gaze slipped to the petite woman standing beside him. Naomi was different. They shared a bond... A friendship. If unconditional love was possible, Jude felt it to his war-corrupted, blood-stained, dysfunctional-upbringing core.
He never had a reason to love anyone the way he loved her. The way he’d loved Davis. He hadn’t known his father. His mom drank her life away until she’d suffocated to death on her own vomit while he was in boot camp. He hadn’t been able to save her that time.
Before then, she’d been an empty shell, simply existing, not knowing how to deal with a needy little boy who’d grown quickly into a willful teen. Davis and his parents had been Jude’s savior. Not once did they turn him away when he needed a place to crash, when he’d been locked out of his house after his mom forgot to leave the key under the mat. Or after she’d gone on a drunken rampage, telling him to get the hell out.
He’d looked too much like his old man.
That was all right, though. Those memories gave him the grit he’d needed to become a man and to fight a war alongside his buddies—no matter how brutal, no matter how many tours.
The memories had given him the balls to start a business with Davis, learn what needed to be learned, and succeed.
No, he’d never been loved, but he was strong and he was smart. He survived. He triumphed. And since Davis’s death, he’d protected and cared for the one person who’d somehow infiltrated her way into his heart.
Naomi looked up and gave him a quiver of a smile, bringing him back to earth, back to Millie’s dining room.
“Millie,” Naomi said, offering half her attention to their hostess, “can you repeat that last part?”
Millie was talking? Shit. Jude tore his gaze away from Naomi and tried to concentrate on their hostess.
“Yes, but pay attention this time, you two.” Millie tore up some sheets of paper, scribbled on them and threw half of them in a breadbasket, the other half in one of Michael’s baseball hats. “This basket contains your room assignments. You’ll pick a paper out of here, then find your way to that room.” She lifted the hat. “This contains letters from the alphabet. You’ll also choose a slip of paper from here. Your task will be to bring me two items from the assigned room that begin with the letter you pick.”
The room filled with muffled laughter and whispers.
“How much time do we have?” Sweater Vest asked.
“Is there a prize?” Millie’s sister Nina added with a laugh.
Everyone must be good and toasted, Jude thought. Or else they’d find this game a silly waste of time. Of course, Jude tended to think differently than other people.
“You have ten minutes in each room.” Millie lifted ten fingers and set her gaze on Naomi. “Ten,” she mouthed. “If you don’t find two items to match your letter of the alphabet in that amount of time, then you’re out and you’ll be punished by having to watch Sunday Night football with me and Michael. Your prize will be seeing my brand new home in great detail. Let’s begin.” She cocked her head and grinned. “Are you ready?”
CHAPTER THREE
THE GUEST BATHROOM. The letter “R.” This ought to be interesting.
Naomi led the way, having already toured the spacious home earlier. The only question was how she planned to seduce Jude in the least sexy room in the house. Or if she had the nerve to go through with making a move in the first place.
His hand rested on her back as they headed down the hallway. Her nearly backless dress allowed skin-to-skin contact—sensitive skin that hadn’t been explored in years. Did he notice her flushed face and the goose bumps erupting under his fingertips?
Did he like the feel of her skin as much as she loved his touch?
She could only hope so. Otherwise, this night wasn’t going to end well. He had to understand though. All she’d ask for was one night of pleasure. The craving was too strong to ignore. At that very moment, hot, stinging need singed down her body, sinking deep and low in her belly. One night to satisfy the need.
And if one night led to something more, then she’d eagerly take that too.
But a short fling was all she’d ask of Jude, all she expected of him. For as long as she’d known Jude, she’d never seen him with the same woman more than once. Naomi guessed he liked it that way. What would make her any different?
She turned into the guest bathroom and his hand slipped downward, skating against the silky stretch material that covered her ass. At the intimate touch, another arrow of warmth dipped low, dampening her panties.
“I’m so sorry.” He yanked his hand back as if he’d accidentally immersed it in a vat of acid rather than grazing it against her bottom.
Damn. Maybe the concentrated force of nature thrumming between them was all in her mind.
“It’s fine.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “You’re fine.” Really fine. “We’re in here for the next ten minutes.” She gestured through the door.
He followed her into the room, both their feet scuffling against the hardwood floors, adding to the nervous energy that filled the air. Naomi flipped on the light as Jude clicked the door shut. And locked it—one of Millie’s obnoxious, overly obvious made-up rules.
Naomi had to wonder if Jude knew what they were up to. If so, at least he was playing along.
The thought gave her a refreshed perspective and a surge of confidence. She conjured the nerve to turn around and tell him exactly what she wanted. But her momentum crashed when she saw him moving around the room, looking for their items, paying her no attention.
He opened a drawer, rifled through it, and held up a pink disposable razor. “This is too easy.”
Naomi shoulders sagged. This wasn’t going to be easy at all. She glanced around the extravagant five-piece bathroom complete with a large jetted tub and a separate shower surfaced with rustic-looking turquoise and cream tiles Michael had shipped in from some exotic location. Naomi couldn’t remember exactly where or it might have been a nifty conversation starter.
Instead, she sat at the smooth, tiled edge of the tub and watched Jude open a few more drawers. He stopped when he caught her staring.
“Quitting already? Don’t we need two ‘R’ items?” A rare, relaxed smile crooked his full lips, at the same time slightly curving his scar. The white jagged mark didn’t take away from his beauty. In fact, it gave him more edge to pile on top of his already delicious, bad-boy facade.
She imagined the scar gave women a reason to approach him and ask what had happened to him. If they dared ignore his brooding eyes and stay-the-hell-away frown. But he was so tempting, they’d move right in anyway, wanting very much to know what it took to cheer him up and see him smile.
What Naomi wouldn’t give to know t
he secret.
“We have ten minutes.” Time to dive in or cower away forever. “There’s no rush. Want to sit with me?” she asked, feeling bold again. Sexy even, underneath the amused scrutiny of his soft green gaze.
She crossed her legs, liking that he followed their movement, liking that her hem hiked up to expose a good portion of her thigh.
He set the razor down and shut the drawer, slamming it too hard. Naomi would’ve assumed he was angry if his gaze wasn’t affixed to her raised dress like it was a swaying hypnotizing pendulum.
Her new favorite dress. She’d have to design another just like it... maybe in that crimson fabric she’d purchased last week.
She lifted her arms in a casual, fake stretch, making the hem slip up even higher.
Yep, she was desperate. Luckily, he seemed to appreciate the view. He was transfixed for several pulse-thrumming moments until his gaze slid up her body, slowly edging over her every curve until he met her eyes.
“I like that dress on you,” he said, his mouth barely moving. His jaw constricted. “Did you design it?”
“I did. Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Naomi licked her lips and crossed her legs tighter, her body starving for his affection. “Please sit with me.”
He moved quickly, yet stiffly, sitting close enough for their hips to touch.
She wanted him closer.
Just tell him how you feel.
“Jude?” she started as her nerves protested, making her body tremble.
His frown deepened. His brows crinkled with concern.
“I’m fine,” she said before he could ask if she was okay. Again. “But I want to tell you something that’s been on my mind quite a bit lately. And I don’t want you to feel awkward or be mad at me if you don’t like what I say. Because I can’t lose you.”
“Tell me,” he said without delay. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I love you. She bit back the words simmering on her tongue and mentally backed up about a thousand feet.
Slow down.
“You know how I haven’t been with a man in a long while?” She hoped he knew. She continued before he could reply. “Well, I want to try. I very much want to try.”
The hard sole of his loafer tapped loudly against the floor. A reflex? His large, warm hand grabbed hers and squeezed. “Naomi. Sweetheart, if you’re talking about that guy with the sweater vest, you can do much better.”
“Sweater vest?” She sighed. “No, Jude. Not him.”
“Who then?” His voice dropped a notch to a deep rumble that somehow pulsed down between her thighs.
Slow down? Who was she kidding?
“I want you, Jude.” The words spilled out easily as she ran her hand up his chest and wrapped it around his neck. “I want you badly.”
There. She said it. And waited for a response. Something.
But he didn’t allow her a single glimpse of a reaction. He simply stared. For far too long. Unblinking and unmoving.
“Did you hear me?” she whispered, feeling rejected. Of course, she’d known rejection was a big possibility.
“Yes, I heard.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You want... me?”
“Yes, but don’t think you have to say yes just because”—she waved a hand—“you know. Because we’re friends. Or you don’t want to hurt my feelings. I’m stronger than that.”
“Why me?” he asked, flustering her more.
“Well, I’m attracted to you for one.” A total understatement.
“I didn’t think I was your type. I’m nothing like—” He paused, shook his head.
This wasn’t going at all as she’d hoped. All she could do at this point was lay it all out there. Let him in on what her thought process had been up to now. Maybe then he’d understand.
She cleared her throat, thinking fast. “You know I haven’t been able to taste, truly taste, anything in a long time, right?”
“You mentioned that before. What does that have to do with this?”
“It’s all related. Bear with me?”
He nodded stiffly.
“You know the hobbies I used to adore—reading, hiking, skiing, wine tasting—I stopped caring about them. And the career I used to love has become monotonous. It takes days to sketch out a design when it used to take hours.”
She’d never thought she’d grow bored of designing clothes, but her flair and passion for the creative had come to an abrupt halt after Davis had died. Luckily she had a good work ethic and persevered. Otherwise, she’d have to literally start from scratch. Her burgeoning career would’ve been ruined.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still so unhappy.” He rubbed his thumb against her palm. His expression softened. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
“I’m not trying to make you pity me. I’m trying to make you understand.” And seduce you in the least seductive way, apparently.
Shoot. She ran her hand over his chest again. The solid wall of muscle, of strength. She hoped this wasn’t the last time she’d be able to touch him like this.
“I’m listening, Naomi.”
Okay, here it goes. “Several months ago I started feeling again. I started craving. But the craving wasn’t for food or anything quite that simple.” She gulped and willed the warmth from her cheeks. “It only happens when I’m around you. I began to notice you... as a man.” Her fingers trailed along his tense shoulder. His broad shoulders and back were her favorite parts of him. This week.
“As a man?”
“Probably sounds silly.” She opened her hands and tried to explain. “Lately, when we hug... I don’t want it to end. I love being wrapped up in your arms. Sometimes I notice how you look at me from across a crowded room. And I like it. I imagine you’re thinking not-so-innocent thoughts about me. Which might be ridiculous but...”
She dropped her hand to cradle his, avoiding eye contact, yet pausing to see if he’d say something. When he didn’t, she continued. “I began to look deeper. At every angle, every muscle, your hair, your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your scars, your scent, every quirk and nuance. And each time I observed you, my body heated, my nerves tingled, and I felt alive again. Finally. You ask ‘why me?’ and all I can think of is how obsessed I’ve become with you.”
She belted out a nervous laugh, then stopped herself when he didn’t smile, nor did any of the tension ease from his body. His thumb had stopped rubbing her hand and was now pressed solidly against her palm.
“Do you know what I mean, Jude? I’m not asking for forever. Just one night. But I won’t beg.”
Stop embarrassing yourself, Naomi.
Too late for that, she thought when he dropped his gaze. He couldn’t even look at her. Her cheeks blazed and she stood to get some distance from the huge mistake she’d made. How could she unstitch this one? She should’ve known better than to take advice from Millie.
“You know what? Never mind,” she said, heading toward the door. Her embarrassment was quickly transitioning to anger. He could at least let her down easy. “Aren’t you going to say something? Anything?”
Naomi turned on her heel and was startled when she found Jude standing directly behind her, a peculiar smirk on his lips.
“I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice unusually hoarse. His large frame was a bit intimidating as he inched closer, backing her against the door. “I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re not at your best.”
“I wouldn’t have said anything if I couldn’t handle the consequences.”
“So we’re clear—you want to have sex... with me? For just one night?” He held up a finger and grazed it along her cheek.
“Yes.” The word hissed from her lips, but from the rough sound of his voice, she had to second-guess how this was going to play out.
Her uncertainty didn’t last long. He smelled so good, a clean spicy scent that warmed her nose, eased her nerves. Sage and cinnamon.
The solid muscles underneath
his fitted cotton Henley shirt seemed larger, firmer. If that was possible.
Her back hit the door and he halted less than an inch away.
He reached for her. His hands bracketed her face, drawing her onto her tiptoes. And he looked... yes, he looked like he might kiss her. His confused stare and odd smirk transformed into something much more intriguing.
Yes, yes, yes.
Then his lips seized hers and set her world afire.
She’d been so surprised she’d forgotten to loosen her lips. But when she did, the fit of their lips, the perfect mold, was more than she had hoped for. All that she’d hoped for. She melted into his strong hold and warm lips. He was tender yet insistent. Soft yet firm.
Her mind buzzed. Remember every detail. Don’t forget a thing.
With capable hands, he tilted her head at a better angle and slipped his tongue along the seam of her lips. A shiver tingled along her skin. Her lips parted. A soft moan slipped through. He groaned and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth.
Her taste buds roused from deep slumber. Like a chef, she differentiated all the flavors she tasted—champagne, cherry tart, Jude—and savored them all.
This was happening. Jude was kissing her. And she could taste him. So good she grew lightheaded.
Why wasn’t she touching him?
She lifted her forgotten hands and glided her palms up his ridged torso, along the soft cotton that stretched across his muscled chest, his pounding heart. She dragged her fingers along his neck, then combed them into his thick hair. How many moments had she imagined doing precisely this?
Running her hands all over his body?
There was so much more to explore. But right now, she was having a difficult time focusing on anything other than the kiss that was making her dizzy and hot. Damn, he had a talented mouth. She’d never felt like she’d been an especially good kisser. Competent maybe. Nothing exciting.
Nothing as exhilarating as this.
This.
The way Jude moved with her, the way his lips and tongue worked her mouth, inspired her to respond with equal fervor, drugged with a bold passion she couldn’t have dreamed up. Who knew she could kiss like this? Or maybe it had been so long she couldn’t remember.