by R. C. Martin
“Yes,” I reply without a moment’s hesitation. The truth is, I haven’t seen him since Sunday, and hearing his voice only reminds me of how much I miss him.
“What time should I meet you?”
I smile and then lift my shoulders in a shrug as I try and think of a time that would work for all of us. “Eight?” I ask, the question directed to both the man in my ear and the man beside me. Geoff nods and winks at me just as Judah agrees as well. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”
“You’ll see me tonight.”
“Okay. See you later, then.”
“Goodbye, Teddy.”
“That’s my girl,” says Geoffrey, handing me my book as I set aside my phone. “And I promise—I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I’m not even really sure what that means, and before I can ask, a customer walks into the gallery, stealing his attention away from me. Since I’ve known Geoff and Andy, I haven’t had anyone to introduce them to. Until a few weeks ago, all I’d ever heard from them were reasons why I should be dating. Now that I am, I’m not sure what to expect tonight. As backwards as it may seem, I’m not at all worried about Judah being able to hold his own. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Me, on the other hand—Jude has a way of turning me into a hot mess. I just hope I don’t make a fool of myself in front of my friends.
After work, I head home for a bite to eat and a change of clothes. I think about shaving away my five o’clock shadow, but then decide against it. At a quarter to eight, I’m on my way out. By the time I find parking in Old Town, it’s eight o’clock. The Tap Room is busy with activity when I enter, but it doesn’t take me long to find my redhead.
Her back is to me and, much like the last time I spotted her in here, her long, wavy mane is pulled up into a ponytail. My dick twitches as I imagine wrapping the thick strands around my wrist, pulling her head back to expose the bare flesh of her neck. I think of the sound of her whimper, and suddenly I wish I was at home reading. I need to get my hands on her. Soon. At least one of us needs to be getting off, or I’ll lose my mind.
I clear my throat and stretch my neck from side to side before discreetly adjusting myself. As I make my way toward the table she occupies with her friends, I don’t take my eyes off of her. She’s in a loose fitting, teal, short sleeved top that hangs a little off her right shoulder, and a pair of jeans. The closer I get, the more tempted I become to nibble and lick my way from the tip of her shoulder all the way to her ear. If we weren’t in a bar full of people, nothing would stop me. I haven’t touched her in four days.
Unfortunately for me, we are in a bar full of people. So, instead of devouring her as I approach, I slide my hands around her waist. She jumps, but then leans back ever so slightly when she feels my lips grazing her ear.
“Hello, Teddy.”
“Hi,” she replies shyly.
Fuck—I want this woman.
“You’ll never guess what I heard today,” I say, a sly smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.
“What?” she asks, turning to look up into my eyes.
“I fear Lydia Bennet has run off with that fool, Mr. Wickham. It’s quite the scandal.”
When she grins and giggles at me, I can no longer restrain myself. I press my lips to hers, needing just a taste. She hums against my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my dick. I don’t linger long. When I pull away, the smile she gives me leaves me placated for the moment, assuring me that when the time comes, she’ll have been well worth the wait.
My whole body tingles even after he pulls away from me. I don’t even think about introducing him until Geoff extends a hand from across the round table we’re seated at. My eyes meet Carrie’s, who is sitting opposite me, as Andy introduces himself. Carrie smiles at me, as if she’s in on some secret I don’t know about, and then extends her hand to Jude, as well. Then, before I know it, the feel of his hand on my waist is gone and he’s off to the bar to grab a drink.
“So this is what smitten Teddy looks like,” says Carrie, propping her chin on her folded hands. “I approve.” I look at the woman I’m privileged to call my friend, her chestnut hair falling to her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes alight with mischief as she smiles at me. “Also—he’s hot!”
“Hey,” Andy grunts, playfully glaring at his wife.
“You know I love you, my incredibly handsome husband,” she says before kissing his cheek. “But even you can’t deny—that man is hot.”
“Preach,” says Geoff, holding up his hand. Carrie and I both laugh as she reaches over and gives him a high five. Andy rolls his eyes at us and then takes a swig of his beer. Geoffrey leans toward me, wiggling his eyebrows. “What was he whispering that had you giggling like a school girl?”
“Inside joke,” I murmur, my eyes drifting in Jude’s direction as he stands waiting at the bar.
“Oh, baby girl,” Geoffrey sighs, recapturing my attention.
“What?”
“You’re falling for him.” I start to shake my head, but then he reaches underneath the table and affectionately grabs hold of my knee. “It’s okay. Let it be, baby.”
I open my mouth to protest, and then my mind takes me back to Saturday night. I remember the way it felt when he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close in bed. I remember waking up to the smell of coffee Sunday morning, opening my eyes to see a steaming cup waiting for me on the night stand, Judah sitting up beside me, reading the morning paper on his tablet. I remember Tuesday and how excited I was when we started reading each other’s favorite books. And just now, when he came up behind me and put his hands on my waist, it made me feel like he was staking his claim—like I belong to him—and it felt good.
When I look back over at Judah, he’s making his way through the crowd back to our table. His eyes find mine and I realize that Geoff is right. I like Judah. I’ve known that for a while. But now, I can admit that I don’t want this to end any time soon. Whatever it is that we’re doing—I want to keep doing it.
Geoff keeps his promise, and he’s on his best behavior. Neither him, nor Andy, grill Judah with a bunch of questions. We keep the conversation light and fun, and I’m actually impressed with how well Jude manages to fit in with my friends. Though, I suppose, I have no reason to be surprised. He’s brilliant at what he does, which goes beyond interior design and into the realm of business development and customer service. Of course he can handle drinks with my friends.
“So, Judah, will you be joining us for dinner on Theodora Day?” asks Carrie when there is a lull in conversation.
I shrink in my seat when Judah looks at me, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow. “Theodora Day? I’ve heard nothing of this.”
“Teddy! You didn’t tell him it was your birthday next Thursday?” asks Geoffrey.
I shrug my shoulders, not really sure how to explain. “No. It never came up. I’m sorry—you’re welcome to come if you want.”
“Oh, fuck—don’t listen to her,” Geoff says, pointing at Jude. “She’s just being shy. She loves birthdays. We all have a day, and hers is a week from today. It’s a huge fucking deal. Every year, Harper takes off work and they spend the whole day together. Then we all go to dinner and Harper keeps her out for the rest of the night. If you give two shits about this girl, you should definitely be there.”
“Geoff!” I gasp, appalled that he’s just guilt tripped Judah into coming out with us. He shrugs and tips back his drink. I groan and turn toward Jude. “It’s okay if you’re busy. Really—it’s really okay.”
“I’ll check my calendar and I’ll let you know,” he assures me before looking at his watch. “For now, I’ve got to go. You’re good to get home?”
“Yeah. I’m good,” I say, sad to see him go.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod as he stands and closes the distance between us. He grips the side of my neck, caressing my nape with his fingertips as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “You have no idea how hard it’s going to be for me to walk out of here having not tasted the inside of
your mouth. You owe me.”
“Okay,” I breathe. He’s wrong, though. When he presses his lips against mine, I feel his pain. I want more, too.
He pulls away before I’m ready and then offers a blanket goodbye before he’s gone.
“I think it’s safe to say we’ll see him next Thursday,” says Carrie with a grin.
I frown at her and then glare and Geoff. “He’s probably not going to come. I can’t believe you made such a big deal about it.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t! And he’ll be there. I’ll bet my right testicle that he’ll be there.”
I hold my hand out, ready and willing to take that bet. “You’re on—you totally owe me at least one ball after that.”
“Bitch, please,” he says, shaking my hand. “I don’t owe you a thing. He’ll be there. You’re welcome.”
The next morning, an hour into my work day, I receive a vase full of gorgeous teal gerbera daisies. My jaw falls open as soon as the delivery man walks through the door, and it remains that way until Geoff taps my chin. I snap my mouth closed and then a second later, it’s open again—only this time in a giddy grin.
“I told him my favorite color was teal on our first date. He remembered!”
“I think I’m finally ready to forgive him for making you cry. What does the note say?” he asks, nodding toward the card sticking out from the top.
I reach for it, quickly pulling it from out of the envelope.
My cheeks grow warm as I read his words again and again. When Geoffrey reaches over to snatch the card out of my hands, I clap it under my hands against my chest, shaking my head at him emphatically.
“No. Not this one. Sorry.”
“Well, well, well—is Judah being naughty?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, averting my gaze from his before I quickly shove my note into my purse. “I should call him,” I mutter, grabbing my phone. When I look at Geoff once more, the mischievous smile on his face makes me blush again. “I’m just going to step outside for a minute. I swear, I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time, baby girl.”
I hurry out of the gallery, the echo of my heels against the hardwood floors following me as I make my exit. September is a couple weeks away, but the weather is still spectacularly warm, the morning accompanied by a nice, cool breeze. It feels good against my skin, which seems to be heating up as I scroll through my contacts to find Jude. The words in his note circle their way around my mind, and my body buzzes with anxious anticipation.
I’m not stupid. I have a really good idea where Jude’s hands might go the next time I’m with him. And while I won’t lie to myself and say that I’m not a little scared, I also won’t deny that I feel excited. I want him to touch me. I want more than what he’s given me already. I want him.
I tap on his name and take a deep breath before pressing my phone against my ear. The line rings five times, and just when I think I’m about to be tossed into his voicemail, his deep, smooth voice fills my ear.
“Good morning.”
“Hi—good morning,” I say through my smile.
“I assume you received my message.”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Have you finished?”
“Yes. The next time I see you, I will come bearing my camera.”
“Tonight? My place?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good. Have a good day, Teddy.”
“You, too.”
As we disconnect from the call, I grip both of my hands around the phone and tuck it underneath my chin. It’s entirely possible that I just agreed to far more than I can imagine—but I don’t care. It’s a dangerous mantra that I’m learning when it comes to taking risks where Judah is concerned. I don’t care. For the first time in a long time, I don’t want to over think; I don’t want to be scared; I don’t want to deny myself. I just want to live in the moment—and I want to live in the moment with Jude. So, as I make my way back into the gallery, I shove all my nervous thoughts aside and make a mental note to drop into The Smitten Kitten over my lunch break.
Tonight definitely calls for some new underwear.
As soon as I get home from work, I throw my hair up and hop in the shower for quick rinse and shave. After I’m finished, I wrap myself in a towel and set about gathering a few things for the night. I toss my purse on the bed along with my camera bag. Then, just in case, I decide to throw a few extra supplies into my purse. Toothbrush. Phone charger. A pair of panties.
For a fraction of a second, I wonder if I’m really ready for this—but I refuse to overthink it. I then turn toward my closet in search of something to wear. I pick out my white t-shirt dress with navy blue stripes, not worried that it only falls mid-thigh. Jude is quite familiar with my leg tattoos, so there really is no point in hiding them.
After I slip into my new lavender, lacey boy shorts and matching sheer bra, I pull the dress over my head and let my hair down. I hurry into the bathroom—fully aware that if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late—and I put on a little makeup. A smidge of mascara and a bit of lip gloss suits me just fine. When I’m finished, I tuck my feet into my navy Toms, grab my bags, and head out for the night.
It’s just a couple minutes past the top of the hour when I knock on his front door. When he doesn’t answer after a minute, I try the handle. It’s unlocked, so I peek my head inside.
“Jude?” I call out, hesitantly stepping over the threshold.
He walks out of his office, his phone pressed against his ear, and holds up a finger. I mouth sorry, but he only shakes his head at me and waves me over. I shut the door behind me and make my way down the hall, setting my things at the bottom of the steps as I pass them. As soon as I’m in reaching distance, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. He mutters something in agreement to whomever is speaking to him on the phone, and then he drops the device to his side before capturing my lips in a kiss.
I circle my arms around his neck, needing to hold onto him as I get lost in his affection. When he parts his lips, my tongue naturally slips between them. He grunts, and I respond with a whimper that won’t be silenced as he kisses me deeper. Then, just as quickly as it began, it’s over. He tears his mouth from mine and brings his phone back to his ear. I stand speechless, still wrapped around him as he hums his agreement—as if he’s been listening to the caller on the other line this whole time.
“Look, Brittany, I have to go. Just go over the numbers one more time and call it a night. We’ll deal with it on Monday.”
Brittany says something else, which I hope is a goodbye because Jude hangs up without another word, pocketing his phone before looking down at me.
“I could have waited. I mean, if that was important, you didn’t have to—”
I’m interrupted with a kiss. “Not that important,” he mutters against my lips. He then bends down and locks both arms around me, lifting me from my feet as he continues to greet me with his wonderfully friendly tongue. I feel trapped against his hard, warm chest, and I’m sure I’ve never been anywhere safer.
By the time he pulls away from me, we’re both short of breath. My stomach growls and a small smile crosses his lips before he asks, “How does salmon sound? Dinner’s done upstairs.”
I think about teasing him and telling him that I’m allergic, but I’m sure I’d never be able to convince him with a straight face. Not after that kiss. Not so long as he’s still holding me.
Instead, I tell him, “Salmon sounds great.”
I set her back on her feet and let her walk ahead of me down the hallway toward the stairs. Before she ascends, she reaches for the bags she came in with. I recognize one as her purse and assume the other is stuffed with the camera she promised she’d bring. Though, I can hardly worry about the possessions she carries so long as her fine-ass legs are on display in front of me. As she hurries her way up the steps, I take my time, admir
ing the view.
Her dress is shorter than any I’ve ever seen her wear, showing off the bottom half of her dreamcatcher tattoo on her right leg. My hands are already itching to touch her, ready to ease my way underneath that fabric that hides what I’m so fucking hungry for. I restrain myself, knowing that I can’t attack her—for both of our sakes.
Tonight will be the ultimate test of self-control. I’ve been playing her game long enough to be well acquainted with the rules. She has no issue telling me no, which is how I ended up in this dating situation in the first place. Nevertheless, while I grow hungrier and hungrier with every passing day, she grows weaker and weaker. I can feel it in her touch, taste it in her kiss, see it in her eyes. Her pussy will be mine. Soon. But I can’t force my way in. She’d never have me then—and I refuse to claim defeat.
I refuse.
“I can set the table, if you want,” she offers, pulling me from my thoughts.
Her words hit me like a reality check. It’s not the first time she’s been in my kitchen. Not the first. Not the last. She’s becoming familiar with my house—a place no woman has ever felt at home. I find it odd, but it also has a sense of normalcy to it. She doesn’t even wait for me to respond before she washes her hands at the sink and then gathers the necessary place settings for dinner.
“I was thinking—it’ll be too dark by the time we’re done eating, but you would look fantastic at dusk. Maybe if I impress you with my skills today, you’ll let me capture you again, later.”
She smiles back at me just as I enter the kitchen, and I wonder how it is that I’m so captivated by that twenty-two-year-old woman.
“Perhaps,” I answer, pulling the salmon and cubed roasted potatoes from the oven. “What got you into photography, anyway?”
“My sophomore year of college, I took a photography class as an elective. I love art. Obviously. But I’m not an artist. At least, that’s what I used to think before I started taking pictures. I’m not saying that I think my work is good enough to hang on anyone’s wall as art—but it’s art to me.”