Jude put a hand on her shoulder and saw instantly why she’d screamed. Her friend was down on the floor, arms flopped to the side. A circle of men had formed around her, stopping her from being trampled by others. By the time he got past the big guy, another had dragged her to her feet and propelled her toward him and the screaming, waving Sabrina.
Somehow he ended up taking one arm and supporting Q across the back while Sabrina helped on the other side. Together they made it outside past security on the doors. The sound muted as the doors shut behind them.
“Thanks,” Sabrina panted then she cut short and scanned up and down Jude’s face. “Hey. It’s you!”
“Who?” Q turned to look, trying to wriggle loose from his arm. She seemed steady so reluctantly he let her go and stepped away. “Oh. I know you.” She frowned, clearly trying to think of his name.
He brushed some of her raven black hair from her forehead and couldn’t help noticing the cool flow of it across his fingers. A scratch on her forehead trickled blood down to her cheekbone. But her pretty eyes were focused. Her stance was solid. She blinked at him.
“You don’t seem to have concussion.” Jude lowered his hand, let a bit of the tension ebb away.
More security was approaching as if to check they were okay. The guard raised both eyebrows and spoke into his shoulder mic. When Jude shook his head, he backed off.
He turned back to the girls. “Yeah. It’s me. You trespassed in my yard, remember? You two seem to like trouble. Come on, ghost hunters. Let’s sit down.”
Sabrina peered up at her friend while patting her shoulder. “Hmm. She’s never this quiet. I agree. You should sit down.”
“Look. I’m okay. Someone tripped me and I landed badly. I’m okay.” Q put out her arms as if to push them away. “Both of you. I’m okay. Let’s go back in, Sabrina.”
“No.”
The set tone and stern, if pouting, look from Sabrina seemed to startle Q but she recovered and said indignantly, “Excuse me, miss? I’m not your little –”
He took her arm again. “You’ve got blood on your elbow too. You should at least get cleaned up.” These two had some interesting dynamic going. But now wasn’t the time for figuring it out.
Sabrina smiled and mouthed, thank you, at him.
A few yards away, was the broad row of concrete steps leading down toward the parking lot. He pointed. “Over there.”
Q shut her eyes. “Fine. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”
The steps were cold even through his jeans but the floodlight above let Jude methodically go over Q to check for wounds. Elbow and forehead grazes were all he could find – the elbow one hard to find under her full-sleeve tattoo. Cybernetic enhancements inked in dark colors extended from the back of her hand up her arm and into her shirtsleeve. He rotated the hand he held to double-check her palm. “Nice tat. Your cyborg parts probably saved you from any real harm. Though,” he looked into Q’s eyes, “you might have injuries, bruising, elsewhere. Under your clothes.”
“Well.” Q pulled her slender hand away. A tingle ran across his fingers as her skin slipped over his. She straightened and seemed to gather her dignity. Her breasts jutted out. “Thanks for your… help, but you’re not looking under my clothes.”
“I never…” He couldn’t help smiling. “I wasn’t saying I would, Q.”
“Idiot.” Sabrina muttered. She leaned across Q. “Jude, you sure she’s not concussed?”
Her sudden yelp and jump and Q’s smug expression said it all. She’d been pinched.
Definitely an interesting relationship.
“Ladies…” He stood and dusted the back of his jeans with his hands. The girls rose to their feet. “I just had a thought. There should be a first aid room. How about we find it and clean off the blood. If you two want to go back in after that, okay, but no more mosh pit.”
“Hey. Stop right there.” Q set her mouth in a line. “If I want to go back, I will.”
“Not if I tell security I think you have a concussion. By the time they figure that out, most of the concert will be over.”
Or he prayed it would. He sure wasn’t letting her go do that again. A mosh pit was no place for a beautiful woman…women. The two of them were enough to tempt him. They both stared back at him as if he’d sprouted horns. Glossy kissable mouths, and these women looked so good as a pair that he could just see them on their knees before him. He shook his head. Damn, if his dick wasn’t thinking of rising to the occasion.
Q stirred. Her forehead creased. “You can’t –”
“Can.” His Dom side was coming out, but hell, he was going to let it. “I don’t actually know for sure you aren’t concussed. You were looking stunned there for a while.” He inhaled, held it. The thought he’d just had was so good. Would they? “Tell you what. I’ll let you come and check my house for ghosts, if you promise to stay out of the mosh pit. Deal?”
“Yes!” Sabrina’s eyes lit up and she let out a squeal. “Deal.”
Her grin made him grin back. “Good.”
Q shook her head. “A Slipknot concert and we’re out here arguing over ghosts.” She sighed and smiled ruefully down at Sabrina. “Fine. For you.”
“Thank you.” Sabrina went up on her toes and kissed Q’s cheek.
The softening of Q’s expression gave Jude pause. So cute.
Maybe they were bi, but that didn’t rule a man out. He could still hope. He let one side of his mouth twist up. Yep. He was sure doing that. If only his hopes weren’t so kinky, and didn’t involve rope and spankings, and the two of them begging permission from him to orgasm, he might have had a chance. As it stood, a snowball in Hell had a better chance.
Chapter 4
Sabrina
“Looks so much friendlier in the daylight, doesn’t it?” Sabrina said, staring up at the decrepit mansion. Maybe the house was run-down but it had a certain charm – when the afternoon sun was bright and her equipment wasn’t going off.
She looked at Q standing beside her. Her relaxed shoulders said she was at ease too. “Why can’t we ghost hunt during the day again?” Q asked.
“Spirits are more active at night.” So said her many books on the subject. “Three AM is the witching hour.”
Q snorted. “Figures.”
This meant, of course, they’d find nothing this afternoon. Her equipment bag felt more like a bowling bag. Why did she even bother to bring it? She sighed. “Talk a lot, Q, so he’ll let us stay ‘til dark.”
She turned-on her with a shocked expression. “Me?”
“Yes. Go on about that crap you call music.” She tried to hold back a smirk. Teasing Q about her taste in music and fashion was one of her favorite hobbies.
Q chuckled. “Brat.”
They walked up the front porch stairs, stepping over a broken one, just as the door opened. Jude’s built body took up the whole entryway. Had he always been that big? A bit daunting, but he was safe. She knew that on an instinctual level. She’d always been a good judge of character. Plus, he’d shown them the utmost respect and care at the concert last weekend.
“Hello again,” he said from the doorway then held his hand out, motioning to Sabrina’s bag.
“Um…” She looked down at his hand, her grip tightening on the handles.
“I’m just offering to carry it for you.” He smiled a little. “The house is big and that looks heavy.”
If she couldn’t trust him to carry a bag… She handed it off. “Thanks.”
“Q.” He nodded to her. “How’s your head?”
She tossed him a sly look. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
Jude’s eyes widened then he barked a laugh.
Sabrina rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Gross.” Call her a germophobe but she didn’t share her roommate’s passion for giving head. Or sex in general. “Who doesn’t like sex?” Q would say anytime the subject came up. Her, for one. At least not the few times she’d tried it.
Jude’s masculine chuckle filled
the front foyer as they stepped in.
“Someone who shares her adolescent sense of humor,” Sabrina grumbled to herself. “Fantastic.”
“It was funny,” he said, his gaze glued to Q, a smile touching his lips. “A sense of humor is a great asset.”
Q grinned stupidly. “Um, I don’t think I said thank you. For the other night. It was kind of you to –”
“It was nothing,” he cut in. “Just trying to be the gentleman my mother taught me to be.” He winked.
Sabrina watched them. Was Q blushing? Oh, this was going to be good. After that last asshat of a boyfriend, Q needed someone sweet – someone who would treat her right. Even more importantly, she needed action. In the last six months they’d lived together, a pattern had emerged. When Q got needy, she also got a little handsy – not that Sabrina ever stopped her. The dressing room incident, she tried not to think about. A mistake, she chanted in her head. They had recovered. Everything had gone back to normal. Except for the enormous monster of guilt eating its way through her belly. But being Catholic – she wore guilt like a second skin.
She held back a sigh.
It wasn’t fair what she was doing to Q. Her friend deserved someone with a better sense of self-identity, not some insecure, immature, practically virginal germophobe. Someone who could love her the way a girl should be loved. Someone prettier who said the right things, who didn’t put her foot in her mouth all the time. Someone…just…better.
So what was her excuse for flirting back when Q started it? Well, everybody wanted to be wanted, didn’t they? Not to start a pity party but what man wanted someone like her – with her big mouth and too honest opinions?
Having been raised in a strict religious family, most of the guys she’d dated were carefully picked from the already slim selection of their Roman Catholic Church. Those little boys couldn’t handle Sabrina’s big personality. Sure, everybody liked a flirt in a skirt. Not everybody liked what came out of her mouth. “One woman shouldn’t have so many opinions,” her mother often said. Ironic because she was the most opinionated person Sabrina had ever known.
Q liked her short skirts, maybe too much, and she didn’t mind her brash personality either. Q could handle her – laughed at her even. She always did attract the weirdoes. A smile tugged at her lips when she pictured telling Q she thought she was weird. She’d laugh and say, “You’re surprised by this?”
She did love Q. As a close friend loves another friend. Didn’t she? How the hell should she know? It wasn’t like she had a whole lot of practice when it came to relationships. A whole three boyfriends. She should have figured this out in high school like normal people. But she was too busy memorizing Hail Mary’s. Well where was Saint Mary now while she was stuck in freakin’ sexual purgatory?
Q’s booming laugh shook her from her thoughts. Jude was making her laugh already? A small fire started in her chest. That’s my job. She gave her head a shake. No. She wouldn’t be selfish with Q. Jude would be good for her.
She studied the first room they entered – a grand foyer. Or, what used to be grand. Now cracks ran the length of the walls and the beautiful picture window was stained and lined with chipped crown molding.
“Why would anyone rent a dump like this?” she said with a grimace.
“Sabrina!” Q scolded. “Be nice.”
Jude raised his brows. “I only moved in a few weeks ago. Want to give me a little break, sweetheart?”
“Sorry,” she murmured. She wasn’t.
“She’s not,” Q stated bluntly.
Damn, Q knew her too well.
Jude chuckled then motioned through a set of double doors. “Come on. The living room is better.”
“You said you knew the history of the house,” Sabrina said, following close behind him. “I’m very interested to know. It might help with –”
A heavy metal riff sounded behind her. Q’s ringtone. She yanked her phone from her back jeans pocket and looked at the number. “Shit. It’s about work.” Putting it up to her ear, she signaled them to keep going then stepped onto the front porch. “What do you mean you can’t make it to the Johnson wedding?” Her harsh tone faded as Jude ushered Sabrina into the next room.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, peering around the impressive space. Sun beamed in from the arched windows on the other side of the large room. The frames had been newly painted – she could tell from the sheen. The hardwood floors shined with polish. A TV hung on one warm brown wall. Next to it were two built-in bookshelves stacked with a few DVDs and video games, and a couple of empty beer cans. She tsked at Jude. “No books? For shame.”
He grinned. “Just wait ‘til we go upstairs.”
“Is that how you lure girls to your bed?” she asked with a smirk. “Come upstairs and see my impressive book collection.”
“Would it work?”
“Maybe,” she answered with what she thought was a mysterious shrug.
“Noted. So what’s the deal with you two?”
She looked toward the porch with a frown. “What do you me –” She stopped, realizing he’d picked up on their…complicated relationship. “Oh. Nothing. We’re just friends.” With what she thought was a perfectly passable expression of determination she looked him in the eye and said, “I’m straight.”
He seemed to consider this then asked, “And she’s…”
She eyed him a fraction of a second. Should she be saying this?
“Bi,” Sabrina finished on a sigh. Why did people have to be bi anyway? They should stick to one or the other. Everyone in their box, compartmentalized neatly so they made sense and she could feel like she understood something in this fucking universe – like she understood Q. As a second thought, she rushed to add, “But she likes guys.” She’d get her friend laid by this hottie if it was the last thing she did for her. “She really likes guys.”
Ugh. She could have smacked herself. She just made her best friend sound like a slut!
“Um,” she started, shaking her head. “What I mean is…” Protection for her friend overrode her embarrassment. Steeling herself, she raised her chin, stepped into him, and whispered in her best threatening voice, “Q is pretty and smart and funny, and if you hurt her, this Italian New Jersey Catholic schoolgirl will go all heels-off-drunken-chick-fight-in-a-bar on your ass.”
She watched him, looking for signs of anger while maintaining the diva attitude she’d learned from her aunts.
His lips merely twitched then he took her hand, which she’d just noticed was clenched into a fist, and brought it to his lips. “You’re awfully cute when you’re threatening me, Jersey girl.”
Her bones turned into a pile of mush when he ran his lips over her knuckles.
The porch door slammed, startling Sabrina into pulling from Jude’s grip. Q walked in, eyeing them suspiciously. Shit. A chance at hooking Q up with someone decent and she’d ruined it in a moment of spineless lust. Her face heated. She’d win the worst friend of the year award, hands down.
Q put an arm around Sabrina possessively while giving Jude a glare that would scare the mafia. She should know. One of her cousins was mafia.
“What did I miss?” Her gaze stayed fastened on Jude like a soldier eyeing an unexploded bomb. Maybe Sabrina should have warned him about Q’s protective streak.
“Nothing, Q,” Sabrina said, returning the hug to ease her. “Jude was just going to tell me about the house.”
“Let’s sit down,” he said, gesturing them toward the cozy, overstuffed furniture.
Q plopped down on one side of the sofa. Sabrina waited for Jude to take the seat next to her but he sat on the love seat instead, leaning back, one ankle crossed over his knee. Slightly disappointed he didn’t seize the opportunity, she occupied the spot next to Q. She seemed pleased and scooted closer until their thighs touched.
“This is a big place for one man,” Q said. “Or is there a wife and kids somewhere we should know about?”
“No wife or kids.”
“Are yo
u a flipper?” Sabrina asked.
His brow descended. “A what?”
“A person who buys an old house and fixes it up then sells it again. I saw it on TV. A house flipper.”
“Ah” He nodded. “No. I’m renting this place for the summer. Actually the owner is letting me stay for free if I work on the interior. I happen to enjoy renovating old houses.”
“Why just for the summer?” Q asked. “You have other plans after that?”
His face drooped a little. “Medical school.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be in school?”
“Sabrina!” Q elbowed her in the ribs.
“What?” she said, dumbfounded. It was a valid question.
Jude chuckled. “I’m twenty-eight, Jersey girl. But it’s good to know I look old. Maybe I’ll invest in some new skin cream.”
“No,” Q said, giving Sabrina a harsh look. “You don’t look old at all. You look…” She trailed off, her face reddening.
“Distinguished,” Sabrina finished for her.
“Distinguished?” Jude laughed. “That’s the polite word for old.”
“Pretty much,” she agreed. Cause it was.
“Foot in your mouth,” Q whispered under her breath. “So what kind of doctor do you want to be?
“A surgeon. Like my father was. And my brother.” He waved his hand lazily. “And my father’s father and so on.”
She zoomed in on the one discrepancy. “Like your father was?”
His pained expression made her almost regret her nosiness.
“He’s been sick for a while…years.” He nodded a little and stared into space for a few seconds. “But, yeah, he was an orthopedic surgeon.”
“You don’t seem too thrilled about becoming one,” Sabrina pointed out.
He shifted in his seat and shrugged. “Family tradition.”
She assessed him, using what she’d dubbed her Bullshit Detector. And it was beeping like crazy. “Family tradition, huh?”
Q gave her knee a squeeze. “You should know all about family pressure,” she whispered.
She dropped her gaze, fumbling with her hands. Damn her. Q always knew how to throw her off balance. Her family’s disapproval was the number one reason she refused to act on her more serious flirtations with her. Q knew it too.
The Dom with a Safeword Page 3