by R. C. Martin
“You are not without fire, sweetheart—you posses a dose of wild, and it’s just what I crave.”
His words spur me on, increasing my desire, and I grind against his hand with a moan.
“Judah…”
When he kisses me, I cling to him, needing everything he has to give. He continues to work his fingers in and out of me, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need him. All of him, filling me up—binding us together.
He grazes my clit with his thumb, and I sever our kiss, short of breath.
“Make love to me,” I plead.
Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls his fingers out of me, wrapping an arm around my back to keep me close as he uses the other to help him stand. He steps out of the tub, not even bothering to drain it as he heads for the towels. He taps my backside, signaling for me to let him go, and he lowers me to my feet before drying me off. He does the same for himself before discarding the towel and scooping me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face even if I tried.
“I love you,” I whisper as he carries me to the bed.
He looks at me, his eyes roaming my face before he kisses my lips.
“Say it again.”
“I love you,” I repeat as he lays me down.
“Again,” he insists, settling himself between my legs.
“I love—” He eases himself inside of me, momentarily stealing my words. When I find my voice again, the sentiment comes out on a moan. “Judah, I love you so much.”
“Tell me again tomorrow,” he mutters before sealing his mouth over mine.
He glides in and out of me leisurely, creating a slow burn between us. I never want it to end—and for a while, it doesn’t. I love every minute—every touch, every kiss, every stroke, every sigh passed between us. When my orgasm blossoms, I can’t stop it, and I pull him over the edge with me. As I tremble beneath him, he roars above me, and I fall in love with him a little bit more.
He doesn’t pull out of me right away. Instead, he kisses me until my lips are swollen and on the verge of going numb—he kisses me until he grows hard inside of me, and then he makes love to me all over again.
We didn’t leave the suite all night. We fell asleep together after I’d made her come twice post-bath, sleeping until after the dinner hour. I don’t remember the last time I napped, and I found it surprisingly refreshing. Not surprisingly, I woke before she did, and I took the liberty of ordering us dinner, waking her upon its arrival. We ate at the dining room table, and when we were finished, I fucked her there, too. We then showered, ordered dessert upon her request, and spent a couple hours eating and kissing in the sitting room before I took her back to bed, where I had my way with her one last time before sleep overtook us both.
Now, as I lay awake, the overcast sky hiding the dawn of a new day, I look down on my woman. Her cheek is pressed against my chest, her arm draped across my waist, and one of her legs is hooked over mine, but not a single part of me objects. I would blame it on the sated bliss of this weekend, but it’s not that. At least, not entirely. She’s not a leech I wish to shake off of me. She’s a woman I wish to keep. She’s the woman I choose. Day after day, I shall choose to be her fool—so long as she loves me; so long as she chooses me right back.
I know there will come a day when she does not choose me. I’m not stupid enough to believe in forever, regardless of how much I may feel for her. Though, as I look at her now, I hope her time comes before mine. I hope that the repetitious act of her choosing me will end, that she will change her mind, that her desire to speak of her love tomorrow will fade before my choice to choose her tomorrow dissipates. I don’t want to hurt her—my shy girl who believes in love; who believes in always, in spite of the pain she’s endured. I’m not a monster, like the boy who claimed to love her before. I will not promise her love. I am not a changed man. I am still the man who seeks pleasure above all else. Right now, she’s the pleasure I seek. But I cannot deny that she means enough to me that I wish to spare her feelings.
My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I reach to grab it from where it sits on the bedside table. I have every intention of silencing it, until I see that it’s Benjamin on the line. I look down at Teddy, resting my free hand on her bare hip as I answer the call.
“Hello?” I mumble softly.
“Beaver Creek, huh?”
An irritated frown pulls at my eyebrows before I reply. “It’s a little early to be calling to give me shit, isn’t it?”
“And The Ritz? I mean, come on, Jude—you’re making my girl jealous, over here,” he continues, completely ignoring my question.
“Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
He chuckles, but my irritation remains firmly intact. He’s yet to announce the reason for his call, and I don’t wish to take the risk of waking Teddy for a pointless chit-chat.
“My big brother is in love.”
“I don’t fall in love,” I tell him, looking down at the woman who owns me. For today, at least. “Ben, is there a reason why you’re calling? She’s still sleeping.”
“Bullshit, you don’t fall in love.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, knowing good and well that he can’t see me do it, and stay silent.
“You’ve gone above and beyond for that girl. An entire weekend away? No work? One woman? Not to mention the last couple of months? And you’re introducing her to mom and dad? Wake up, brother—you’re in love.”
“Who told you I was introducing her to mom and Joe?”
“Harper. That’s why I’m calling. She wants to crash your party. Something about Teddy being nervous and sisterly obligations. I don’t know—but I called mom yesterday. She said she was just waiting on confirmation from you. I’m calling for said confirmation.”
“We’ll be down for dinner on Saturday.”
“Then I suppose I’ll see you Saturday.” He pauses for a moment, then asks, “You do realize that for a man who doesn’t fall in love, your actions scream of commitment, don’t you? I mean, you’ve met her parents. She’s about to meet ours. I’m not afraid to admit that I’m in love with Harper, and she’s only meeting mom because apparently we have to keep up with you and Teddy.”
“You seem to put a lot of weight on the significance of meeting the parents. Weight that seems entirely unnecessary.”
“Says the man who has never brought a woman home before.”
“Benjamin, if I brought home every woman who has ever shared my bed, our mother might disown me.”
“Touché,” he says with a laugh. “Still—sounds to me like you’re suffering from a classic case of denial, Jude. If Teddy is as nervous as Harper says, even she considers this to be a big deal.”
I draw in a deep breath, watching as Teddy’s head rises and falls with the act. I then reach up and brush a little of her dark red hair out of her face, revealing more of her profile.
“I can’t control how she feels. All I can do is wait for the other shoe to drop. It will. And when it does, none of these milestones, or whatever you’d like to call them, will make a difference.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The nature of people. We all change, Ben. I do not expect Teddy to be an exception.”
“Dude—you’re talking in riddles. I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Nothing. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
He sighs, and I can practically hear the contemplative expression on his face.
“Look, I know you’re older and wiser, or whatever—but I know a thing or two about love. I know that it’s precious. I know that the love of a woman who will share your bed is not something to scoff at—it’s not something to take for granted—and it’s certainly not something to resist.
“I know you. I know you have some sort of aversion to attachment, but there’s only one Teddy. You can fuck around as much as you want, but you’ll never be able to find another like her. And say what you will, but your actio
ns speak louder than your words. You want her. You want her more than anyone else. So, if I were you, I’d stop waiting for this other shoe to drop, and admit how you feel. In my experience, if you don’t own up—you’ll lose her.”
Benjamin. My brother. The romantic. He’s a fool if he thinks that his advice is worth a damn. He himself has fallen in and out of love, proving that Eros love is simply a season in which one is happy with someone else. The moment that changes, the moment that feeling fades, that love is gone—as if it never existed. I will not allow myself to fall victim to that emotional trap.
What Teddy and I have is as real as it will ever be. She’s mine now—and I am hers. That much I will admit to; that much cannot be denied; that much has been promised. I am nothing if not a man of my word. I will stay faithful to Teddy, so long as she stays faithful to me. But I must also stay faithful to myself.
My shy girl inhales deeply, her arm tightening around me before her eyes flutter open. A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as she looks up at me sleepily. When she smiles at me, I know that Benjamin is right about one thing. Her love is not something to take for granted. And as our weekend seems to be slipping away faster and faster with every passing moment, I know I don’t wish to spend another second of it on the phone with my brother—not when I can be buried inside of my woman.
“I’ve got to go, Ben.”
“She’s awake, isn’t she?”
“I’ll see you Saturday,” I reply, hanging up without another word.
“Morning,” Teddy murmurs, reaching up to kiss my stubbled jaw.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I say, bringing my lips to hers.
She hums into my mouth as I flick my tongue into hers, and I know immediately how we’ll be spending our last morning here in Beaver Creek.
It’s been a busy week. To say that I’m distracted as of late would be putting it mildly. My dick has been getting a lot of my attention, and I’ve been paying for it the last few days. I haven’t seen Teddy since Monday. Late nights at the office, followed by catch up work at home, has left me little time for pleasure. This weekend, I intend to change that. I want her in my bed. I even managed to squeeze in a little extra work last night to make sure that I get what I want.
On my way back from the worksite in Windsor, where I dropped by to check in on the progress of construction, I decided to run a quick errand. It’s nearly eleven by the time I return to the office. Just as I’m walking into the building, I spot Logan as she is making her way to the entrance from her car. I wait, holding the door open for her when she catches up to me.
“Thank you,” she says, beaming at me.
“Where are you coming from?” I ask, curious about her mood.
“Doctor’s appointment, remember? I was scheduled for another ultrasound this morning.”
I respond with only a nod. I didn’t remember—but I don’t make it my business to remember such things.
“We found out the sex of our baby,” she gushes.
“Ah,” I mutter, suddenly understanding her good mood. “And?”
“We’re having a boy,” she replies, her hand finding its way to her growing belly—a new habit of hers.
“And you’re pleased, I presume?”
“I wouldn’t have minded either way,” she says with a little shrug. “But this just means we can finally narrow down our name choices. Oh! And I can start planning the nursery.”
“Blue?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her.
“You know, I think I might try green. Not pastel green, though—more of a forest green? I’ll have to look into it.”
“Well, I applaud your decision to stray away from the cliché.”
I offer her one more nod before turning to my office, but she stops me.
“I’ve kept my silence all week, but I can’t any longer; and since we’re speaking on personal matters, I have to ask you a question.”
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I look down at her before I reply, “My answer is not guaranteed, but I know you’ll ask anyway. So?”
“The facial hair, it’s been quite the topic of conversation amongst the ladies the last few days. Inquiring minds want to know—did you lose a bet? Are you switching things up? Just trying it out?”
Extracting one hand from my pocket, I reach up and rub at the scruff that covers my jaw. I haven’t been clean shaven for a week. My morning routine now consists of a trim, keeping the look of a couple days’ growth at most. It’s taken some getting used to, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it when I see the look of surprise on Teddy’s face tonight. She doesn’t know that I’ve decided to keep it.
“Don’t you all have better things to talk about than my personal hygiene preferences?” I ask, returning my hand to my pocket.
“Not this week, we don’t,” she says, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Besides, I kind of just want to hear you say it.”
“Here me say what, exactly?”
“The real reason you decided to sport the scruffy debonair look.” I frown at her, confused by what she’s getting at and impatient to be finished with this conversation. “Oh, come on,” she continues. “There’s only one real reason why you—Judah St. Michaels—would decide to change your look.”
“Logan—”
“Just say it. I’m dying to hear you admit it. Cut the pregnant, hormonal woman some slack and indulge me.”
“I really don’t know what you want me to say,” I reply with a shrug.
She scoffs, rolling her eyes before she says, “Teddy asked you to keep it. I mean, that’s got to be the reason, right?”
I offer her no more than a small smile and a shake of my head as I begin to back away from her.
“I think it’s time you get back to work, Logan.”
She laughs as I turn my back on her, and my own smile can’t be helped.
“Well, she’s a smart woman, that Teddy—impeccable taste, too!” she calls out.
That, I won’t deny. Every impeccable woman comes equipped with impeccable taste—and mine is no exception to the rule.
My stomach tingles as I admire my bouquet of flowers, the arrangement filled with the dark colors of autumn, reminding me of our weekend spent in Beaver Creek. I’ll never forget it. Not just because of the opulence of it all, not even because of the marvelous photos I was able to take, but because it was exactly what Harper said it would be—the most romantic weekend of my life.
The memory of it has kept me warm the last few nights. I haven’t seen Judah in four days. I know he’s been working a lot, probably paying for all that he didn’t do over the weekend, on top of his usual work-week load. Yet, regardless of why I haven’t seen him, it doesn’t change the fact that I miss him like mad. I’ve tried to stay busy to distract myself—dinner with Geoffrey on Tuesday; dinner at Andy and Carrie’s house on Wednesday; phone date with Harper last night—but none of them are Judah. None of them can truly fill the void that is left when we’re apart. And while I have had the pleasure of hearing his voice every day, I can hardly wait to feel his touch tonight. In just a couple of hours, I’ll be at his doorstep, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t counting down the minutes.
“You know, you can stare at that thing as long as you want, it’s not going to make him materialize on your desk,” says Geoffrey, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I can dream, can’t I?” I tease, turning to look at him as he props himself up against the desk beside me.
“Seriously, though—are you feeling any better about tomorrow?”
I spent most of Tuesday night gushing to Geoff about how much Judah spoiled me over the weekend; but I didn’t neglect to inform him that we had also made plans to go down to meet his mom and stepdad. After hearing the news that Harper and Ben will be joining us, I was relieved, to say the least—but I’m still a nervous wreck.
“I know I’ve met, like, half of his family already, but meeting his mom feels different. Way different. What if she doesn’t like me?”
“Every
body likes you.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. “Everybody does not like me. Besides, she’s not everybody and I’m the first woman he’s ever felt the desire to introduce to the woman. I’m sure she’s got these great expectations. I’m just afraid I’ll fall short. I’m not nearly as established as he is, which he doesn’t seem to mind, but what if she does?”
“Baby girl, I wish you saw in you what the rest of us do.” He reaches toward me, running the back of his fingers down my cheek. “You’re a catch. She’ll see.”
“I hope so.”
“Teddy?” Both Geoff and I turn at the sound of Andy’s voice as he calls from the mouth of the hallway across the room. “Could I get your help with something?” He turns and heads back to his office before I can respond, and I chuckle as I stand to my feet.
“Three more weeks,” I sigh. “Three more weeks and the exhibition will be a grand success we can put behind us, and we’ll have our old Andy back.”
“And we’ll all rejoice,” Geoff replies with a smirk. “Hey,” he stops me, grabbing my hand before I can get too far. “I meant what I said. You’re a catch, and don’t you dare forget it. You’ll be fine. Just be yourself, okay?”
“I hear you,” I say softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Love you, Freckles,” he calls out as I make my way to Andy.
I look over my shoulder and offer him a wink. “Love you, too, babe.”
Saturday morning, when I wake up in bed alone, I’m quick to make myself at least somewhat presentable before I go hunting for my man. I grab the polo shirt he left on the floor last night and pull it over my head on my way to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth and pull my hair back into a high ponytail. Without further ado, I head to look for him in his office, first.
When I spot him behind his desk, concentration etched on his brow, his dark hair disheveled from sleep, his face still covered in that unbelievably sexy scruff, I can’t help but stop and stare. He’s gorgeous. When I showed up last night and he opened the door, I almost jumped him after I saw he still hadn’t shaved. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, being able to call him mine.