by Stacey Lynn
I barely hide a choking sound. Eloise at forty teaching Jude anything isn’t an image I want in my brain, especially not after the thing or two he’s taught me recently. Like how incredible it feels when he yanked my hips down on top of his face last night and devoured me until I was pulling on his hair, fighting my thighs from closing on his face, and screaming his name so loud the walls had to be in danger of falling down in his high-rise.
He’s absolutely unbelievable at everything he does and more than once, I’ve now done my own share of complaining about his injured leg. If he’s this incredible in bed while being forced on his back or only sitting, what in the hell is he going to do to me when he can fully be in charge?
I tremble at the thought and know I’m not hiding a damn thing when Logan greets Jude at the entrance and guides him toward the back. It means he has to walk right by me and I can not pull my eyes off him.
It’s only a good thing Avery is always the same because I don’t look like the only fool in the place.
As he passes, he reaches out and brushes his fingertips along my thigh and his touch jolts me.
I whip my head back toward Eloise, but she hasn’t noticed. She’s grinning and focused on Jude’s ass.
It’s Meghan’s gaze I notice as I swing back to my patient. Full of fire and fury narrowed on me and her lips twisted in an ugly scowl.
“Shit,” I mutter and bend down to grab the exercise bands Eloise needs for her next rotation.
“What dear?”
“Nothing, Eloise. How about we step down and do the side lifts on the stairs, okay? Can you hold on to this bar for me?”
I wait until she gets into position, but my body feels electrified for completely unpleasant reasons. If Meghan saw him touch me, if she suspects anything, I can be royally screwed. And if I can’t start treating Jude like any other normal patient when he’s in the office, I have no one to blame for the fucking Meghan can give me than myself.
I need to be smarter.
Hopefully I’ll soon have three weeks where I won’t have to worry about it at all, and decisions can be made afterward.
17
Jude
It’s incredible how quickly things can change.
Every moment I spend with Katie, I realize how much I’m falling head over heels in love with her. Every day I learn we’re more compatible not only together but also in bed—and the couch and kitchen island—than I could have ever imagined.
However, something else has changed with Katie over the last couple of days and it’s not a change for the better.
She’s antsy and jumpy. She seems uncertain and several times I’ve gone to touch her, just a brush of a finger when we’re near, and she visibly flinches.
It all started after work the other day. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have met her gaze and gave her a look that told her I remember exactly what I did to her the night before. Or the way my fingers had worked her that morning before she left my apartment. But I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I saw her, the memories barreled into the front part of my brain, traveled south, and for a moment, my sex drive overpowered my brain. I even apologized for it afterward when she kept a distance from me when she came over, but she assured me that wasn’t a problem.
Except it is. I know it. I need to remember to keep things professional when I see her. It will only be a couple more weeks until I head back to Charlotte. If she chooses to stay here, she’ll still have a life and a career she needs.
“Katie.” I call her name once from where I’m sitting at the kitchen counter.
Her back is to me as she mixes up a meatloaf for dinner. Not the most gourmet thing in the world, but when she offered to cook, I wasn’t going to tell her no. I’ve been eating my fair share of takeout and prepared meals for so long, the thought of having her cook for me is glorious. But not if she’s going to ignore me the whole night.
“Hey. Kate.”
I say her real name. I’ve never used it. When we met in college, she insisted only her friends called her Katie. I ignored the implication we weren’t and weren’t ever going to become friends and decided she better get used to it.
It’s the name that must do it or the clipped tone in my voice. I don’t bother shielding her from it. She looks at me over her shoulder, hands covered in meat goo in a metal bowl, brows furrowed.
“Yes?”
“Wash your hands and come here.” I toss her a towel.
“Can I get dinner in the oven first? It takes a while to cook and I still need to do the potatoes.”
“Wash your hands and come to me, or I’m coming to you.”
And she already knows my knee is hurting because I actually answered the door tonight using crutches. Logan pushed me hard at therapy yesterday and I might have overdone my home workouts today. Plus, I went to the building’s gym to do additional walking on the treadmill and threw in an upper body workout.
I’m tired and sore. And I’m grouchy because she’s not acting like my Katie these last couple of days. Now isn’t the time I need or want anything separating us.
When she doesn’t listen, I gather my crutches to make good on my threat. She grabs the towel and heads to the kitchen sink across from me at the island.
“Okay. Okay. Keep off your knee.”
I settle back into my stool and turn as she curves around the island so she can settle between my spread legs. I pull her to me, clasp my hands at her lower back and hold her close, but with space.
“What’s going on? You’re jumpy and distant. You nervous about Christmas or something?”
I mentioned Mom and Dad wanting to come over to watch Carolina’s game tomorrow night before everyone shows up in town and she went quiet on me, muttering, “Okay Jude. That sounds nice.” But she also sounded like she was only halfway in the room… or the city at all.
“Christmas? Why would I be nervous?”
She’s so adorably confused, I bring her hand between us and kiss the back of it. She smells like soap and my nose wrinkles.
“Because you’re meeting my family. My brothers. Their wives. My dad.”
They’re not scary people. They’re all pretty damn cool if not crazy and loud. They’ll love her as much as I do. The thought jumps so unbidden into my mind, the fact I feel it and haven’t told her that, another scary thought creeps into my mind.
What if she doesn’t feel the same?
She pulls her hand out of my frozen grip and settles it on my shoulder, brushing it down my bicep until she reaches my elbow and comes back up. “I’m not scared or nervous at meeting your family. Or I wasn’t until you started looking at me like I’m getting ready for a meeting with the Gestapo.”
The what? She’s as crazy as my mom sometimes.
“No Gestapo,” I assure her, fighting a grin.
“I’m excited about meeting them and seeing your parents tomorrow will make it even easier to spend time with them first.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She glances at the dinner she left and avoids my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong.”
“Is it work?” I’m not letting her out of this. “I already apologized, but if it caused problems…”
“It’s not work, Jude.”
“Katie—”
She blows out a breath and I can tell she’s frustrated with me. Maybe I shouldn’t push. But we’ve had enough miscommunications in our past I’m not willing to repeat any of them. I’d be an idiot for not making it clear what she means to me. But right now, when she’s more focused on a clump of ground beef, doesn’t feel like the right time either.
She grins down at me, finally, and some of my frustration melts. Her hand comes to my cheek and she kisses me softly, lingering and then flicking my mouth with her tongue until I open. If it’s a distraction technique, it’s working. I lose all train of thought and enjoy the taste of her, all sweet and soft against me.
Katie pulls back and her hand stays at my cheek. “I’m not nervous about anything.
And it is work, a little, but it’s not about the other day.” Her nose scrunches and then her hands fall. “Not entirely. It’s just an issue with my boss. I asked for time off over Christmas and she’s being difficult about letting me have it.”
“Time off? Like vacation time?”
“Yeah. I have a bunch of time saved. I thought I’d use some of it.”
Oh. That’s it? There isn’t deception in her eyes, so I’m inclined to believe her. At least, I can tell she’s not outright lying to me. “What do you plan on doing with it?”
Is she going somewhere? She hasn’t mentioned her mom and I already know from what she’s said she won’t fly to California to hunt her down.
“What?” She laughs and shakes her head. “I thought I’d spend it with you, your family when they’re here.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but it is.
She’s giving me the best and only gift I want with her. Time.
Maybe I’m looking into something that’s not there, creating problems where there doesn’t need to be any, so I tug her closer to me and wrap my arms tight around her. “Then I hope your boss gets her head out of her ass and lets you have it because I want all the time with you I can get.”
“Me too.”
I kiss her then and take my time, snaking my hands into her hair and holding her head, adjusting her so I can go deeper. We’re both breathless when I pull back and whatever jumpiness was in her eyes before is gone.
Yeah. It’s probably shit in my own head. Perhaps the fact I’m hiding from her that I’m headed back to Charlotte and for not bringing it up yet is what I’m seeing… my own damn guilt reflected back at me. But I want us to have Christmas first. Then I’ll tell her.
“This is pretty damn good.”
It’s the best meatloaf I’ve probably ever had. And the rest of the full meal she made with baked potatoes and a salad and garlic bread she baked herself makes me look even more forward to Christmas and home-cooked meals from my mom. It gives me the idea of actually learning to cook when I get back to Charlotte. This shit is so much better than any prepped meal my delivery service brings. But who am I kidding?
I can barely scramble an egg for fuck’s sake.
“I know your parents are coming here for the game tomorrow, but is there any chance we can spend Christmas Eve at my place?”
“I don’t care where we spend it as long as you’re with me.”
It’s the honest truth, but the way her eyes widen tells me I’ve surprised her.
“Yeah?” She clears her throat and takes a drink of her water. “That’s good, because I feel the same, Jude.”
It’s the closest declaration we’ve come to sharing our feelings, but I’m selfish for more. I don’t want anything more hidden between us than there needs to be.
I hold out my hand for her to take and pull her onto my lap. She settles carefully, smiling down at me, one hand scraping through my hair and sliding to the back of my neck.
“What’s this?” she asks and runs a finger along my lips. I nip at her fingertip. “What’s going on?”
“I want you to know something and it’s important.”
Her lips pull down and she tilts her head. “Okay…”
God. There’s so much shit I never even told her in college. We never had the time. “You know the first time I ever saw you?”
“At the party.” She laughs. “Why the trip down my memory lane?”
“Because that wasn’t the first time I saw you. Or wanted to talk to you.”
I’ve surprised her again because she jerks back straight, eyes widening and a goofy, confused smile stretches across her face. “What?”
“It was on campus the first time. Slammed my face right into Dubiak’s backpack because I tripped over the sidewalk when you cut in front of us.” She laughs but I’m not joking. “The second time was in the physical therapy room. At first I saw your ass when you were bent over doing something—” She snorts and rolls her eyes. I totally deserve that, but I continue. “—Then you stood and I had to duck into the bathroom stall so no one on my team saw my dick go hard with only a towel wrapped around me.”
She’s laughing now ridiculously, and I am too at the memory, but I run my hand up her back and curl it around her neck. I hold her close, bringing her down to my mouth until we’re close enough to kiss, but I don’t do it.
Not yet.
“The third time, I actually was going to approach you. You were in front of me, walking down the hallway in McClintockson Hall, talking to some guy you came out of class with. You smiled up at him and patted his shoulder and said, 'Don’t worry about it, Colt. All football players are assholes, most all of the guy athletes are.’”
Her smile dies immediately and she whispers my name. “That was Colt Traynor. He’s gay, Jude, and the guys on the team… they were giving him shit about his name, the fact he was out… that wasn’t… that wasn’t about you…”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to shoot my shot then either. So imagine my luck when you flew into my arms outside my damn house.”
She collapses against my shoulder and her smile is so beautiful, so damn everything to me, I squeeze her tight. “That was why you called me beautiful and refused to put me down.”
“I figured I finally had a chance to get your attention and I wasn’t letting you go.”
My smile dims as I look at her. Her eyes have a soft sheen to them, and somehow I’ve missed it over the last week or so, but her fear is gone. That worry she used to hold when she was with me, that tremor of terror that simmered close to the surface is gone.
“I don’t ever want to let you go, Katie. Regardless of where I end up, in Charlotte, off a team… wherever I am, I want you with me. I’ve loved you since college and I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.”
“Jude.” My name comes out in four syllables as she stammers over every letter. “I…”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She’s turned a shade of white I’ve only seen on paper. My stomach clenches with worry I’ve gone too far. But tears fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks with a slow blink.
“I… it’s crazy, right? That you love me? That it’s so soon?”
“It’s been five years. More.”
“I know… but…”
I told her she didn’t have to say anything, but I tense on the but. Nothing good ever comes after that.
“I said you don’t need to say anything.” I kiss her. I don’t want to hear what she has to say now, especially if it’s not the same thing.
“Well,” she mumbles against my mouth. I’m holding her tight to me, not giving her space to pull back. “What if I want to tell you I love you too.”
It comes out all jumbled together since her lips are on mine, but holy shit. She said it.
Didn’t she? “What?”
I pull back and she follows, kissing me, laughing, wetting my lips with her tears. “I love you, too, Jude. I realized it last week. I fell for you back then and was only scared to lose you, but I love—”
It’s all I let her get out before I slam my mouth to hers and kiss her until I’m hard, grinding against her on the chair and she’s throwing her legs over mine and straddling me, rocking against me. This is not how I want to make love to her. I’m trying to imagine what else we can do… bend her over my kitchen table should work fine. But then she shifts her weight and a bolt of white hot pain courses through my leg.
“Shit.” I practically scream. It hurts so damn bad and she scrambles off my lap like I’ve burned her through our clothes.
“Oh no. Are you… did I hurt you?”
“It’s fine.” I grimace as I rub my leg, inhaling long, slow breaths until the stabbing pain fades. “I overworked my leg today, worked out upstairs. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll be fine once you rest it.”
She helps me to the couch and comes back with the stupid ice machine I hate using and rarely need to anymore.
“I don’t need that. A
regular ice pack should work.”
Katie stands above me on the couch, holding the machine in full-on work mode. “Take off your pants, Jude.”
“Well, how in the hell am I going to argue with that?” I tease, easing the tension lining her face. She’s afraid for me, possibly more than I am. I probably moved it the wrong way, overdid it, took too much weight when I was already sore.
“Shut up.”
She straps me in and turns everything on and then she stands next to me with her hands on her hips and grins. “This is probably the weirdest ending and never one I imagined when I thought of telling you I loved you.”
She looks so damn frustrated. Cheeks still flushed from making out and tears drying on her cheeks, I can’t help it.
I burst out in a laugh, throw my head back on the couch and grab her hand to pull her down next to me.
“We’ll get it right next time,” I assure her.
She grins back and kisses my cheek. “Yeah, we will.”
18
Jude
“Are you freaking kidding me! That does not—did you see—well holy shit… this fucking game!”
“Dad—” I call his name, but there’s no stopping the guy when he gets riled up. He’s currently pacing a path through the floor in my apartment. If he falls through and lands in someone else’s living room, I won’t be the least bit surprised. “Dad!”
“What?” He whips around and shouts at me. I laugh at the idiot. “You honestly think your brother deserved that penalty? Those damn refs have it out for your team tonight. They need to open their damn eyes!”
“John,” my mom calls his name, but she’s almost bent over laughing.
We all are except for Katie who looks frightened at his outburst. It’s the third period of the game. She’s just been baptized into a hockey night with the Taylors and she’s only with my parents right now. If she’s this scared now, I can only imagine what Christmas Day will be like for her once we’re all together.