Quite naturally, she landed tucked against my side with my arm curled around her shoulder. Her head fit perfectly into the crook of my neck, and I inhaled a deep lungful of her clean, wonderful scent. There was no change to Lia's body, it was far too early for that, and maybe this type of thing was the worst bloody idea I'd ever had, but it felt right.
"We went from hypothetical flirty eyes to cuddling very quickly," she said, finger tracing circles on my chest.
"That we did." I closed my eyes. When was the last time I'd felt this bone-deep sense of rightness anywhere other than the pitch? I was always moving, always going, always driving myself forward to fix or do or work.
Rarely did I get quiet moments of peace. The thought of ending this particular one seemed like a crime.
I barely knew her. She didn't know me any better. Yet we'd agreed we could make our own rules. And why shouldn't we?
I wasn't going to ignore how singularly perfect it felt, doing something as simple as lying on the couch with her. Admitting that, though, seemed too fast. Like she could travel along with the strange thread of my thoughts, Lia set her chin on my chest and pinned me with those eyes. Did she even realize what a weapon they were? What damage they were capable of?
My free hand traced the line of her jaw, the edge of my thumb lightly glancing along the bottom edge of her lip. What would she do if I tugged her closer and sipped at those perfectly soft, perfectly pink lips? In the growing warmth I could see on her cheeks, I had my answer. In the reaction of my body, I had clear proof of my desire. And it would be easy, wouldn't it?
But this ... I'd let her edge her toe over the line if she wanted to cross it.
That was when she inhaled shakily and set her face back down on my chest.
Right then.
I closed my eyes and willed the lower half of my body to get the fuck on board.
Voice light and easy, I tried my very best to play it off. "My body is far too tired to move you off me, though, if that's all right with you."
She sighed, her rib cage expanding underneath my palm and spread fingers.
In that sigh, I felt her hesitation to ask any further questions, and truth be told, I wasn't sure I'd know how to answer.
"I could take a nap." With that, her finger stopped its movement, and when I glanced down, I saw the fan of her long, black lashes fall closed.
Settling further into that sense of rightness, paired with a refusal to look too far into what we were doing, I allowed myself to do the same.
Chapter Twelve
Lia
Have you ever woken up with deja vu?
I've done this before.
Not the sleeping on Jude's couch part. My back ached, and his couldn't be any better, but there we were.
Sprawled on top of his insane body, as the sun crept into the sky, I once again woke up with all my important bits touching all of his.
My leg hitched up over the top of his thigh, like I’d unconsciously tried to hump him in my sleep.
My hand had crept underneath the hem of his shirt, and I couldn't help but smile at the placement of my fingers. Apparently, embedded underneath the skin of my fingertips was a homing beacon for his happy trail because that line of hair and the soft, warm, heavily muscled skin around it had my toes curling from how badly I wanted to explore.
All of him, from the top of his dark-haired head down to his very big and very proportionate feet, was like a freaking jungle gym, and it was hard not to want to play on all the parts when I woke up like this.
Making tiny movements so as not to wake him, I turned my nose further into his chest and inhaled deeply. Was it a pregnancy hormone thing? That he smelled like crack and Christmas and cinnamon rolls and everything good that I wanted to hoard to my greedy little chest. The feeling that came with his scent, clean and masculine, was something I wanted to cling to with both hands.
It made me realize just how much I missed the easy affection of my family. The hugs. The playful shoving. Wrestling with Emmett. Someone sitting behind me and braiding my hair while we talked in Logan and Paige's kitchen. There had never been a time in my life when I'd gone so long without someone to clutch me tight in a hug or rub my back while I talked.
Just as I had the night before, I set my chin on his chest and studied his face.
It was stupid how handsome he was.
It was also stupid how much I wanted to wake him up and ride him until his eyes rolled back in his head. Maybe not stupid because we'd said we'd make our own rules for how this was going to play out, but the impulse certainly came with complications.
A subpar, clinical word for that little, teeny baby inside me (roughly the size of a raspberry, according to Sir Google). Sometimes, if my brain started racing too far ahead into the future—to all the unanswered questions waiting patiently for me to answer—my hands started shaking, and I felt very much like I was standing over a dark pit where I couldn't see what waited for me at the bottom.
It might've been a feather bed made of unicorns and sparkles, and I'd land with a gentle bounce.
Or it was something scarier, something bigger that I didn't want to face, and every single time, I backed away from the edge of that pit with a speed that should've scared me.
What if I wasn't good at this?
Oh, that whispered thought was enough to send a slow trickle of ice down my spine.
Would the slight vibration in my limbs wake him?
Could I distract him if it did?
Lurid images danced behind my closed eyes of all the ways I could do that, but I shoved them back. In my clearer moments, when I didn't feel like I was avoiding some big shadowy unknown, I knew better than to dive headfirst into the physical chemistry I felt with Jude. Like the night before when all he did was touch the lower edge of my lips.
Had that reduced me to a throbbing, achy mess? Yes.
Did it solve any of our problems? Nope. (My inner hormone queen who wanted to climb him like a tree pouted very much at that.)
With a resolve I didn't know I had, I carefully extracted my hand out from underneath his shirt, bidding a fond farewell to his happy trail. Jude didn't stir, which was a good thing. If he'd woken, voice all low and rough and calling me love, I would've stripped in five seconds flat.
But he was out.
As I eased my way toward the other side of the couch so I could get up, I remembered Logan being the same way after game day. Especially a loss.
The mental toll was massive on my brother, and I wondered if Jude was the same way. Not all athletes were. They could leave their wins and losses and mistakes on the confines of the field. The leaders weren't like that, though.
As I tiptoed into the kitchen, Logan weighing on my brain, I realized how much of my discomfort stemmed from not just missing family but something else entirely. I was withholding the truth from them because it was easier. Somehow, without all their eyes on me, I felt I could skate seamlessly through the hard.
I found my phone in my purse, battery dangerously low considering I hadn't plugged it in the night before, and I saw a text from Claire that had me smiling.
Claire: If you think I didn't notice that your Find my Friends location stayed in Shepperton last night, you're friggin’ crazy. ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HIM AGAIN? The stupid happy in love side of me is dying for details.
Claire: Also, I'm gonna give you a deadline for telling everyone because I saw Finn and almost slipped again and HAVE I MENTIONED I'M BAD AT LYING.
Me: Not sleeping with him, though we did sleep last night. Just sleep. They lost their match and he had that "I'm a big tough athlete and I bear the mental burden of the team's poor performance" face (you know the one) and the cuddling that happened after was not planned, trust me. He made me a french fry sandwich, and it just ... happened.
Claire: I do know that face. Good morning.
Me: It's late there, why are you up??? Good morning. I miss you.
Claire: I miss you too. Working on some curriculum stuff for a
new reading program at the youth center, and I didn't want to stop. I'm off tomorrow and can sleep. Did you really just sleep? (I'm giving you the serious eyes)
Me: Yes. Fully clothed cuddling. He wanted to kiss me, though.
Claire: And you resisted? I'm impressed. I DO know that face, and it's potent. Bauer had that face after he fell in one of his last competitions. I shocked myself a bit with what I was willing to do to make it go away when we got home. There were props involved.
Me: OMG STOP. Don't want to know.
Claire: Lia, seriously, when are you going to tell them? You've known you're pregnant for weeks. Don't be afraid of their reactions, okay? They love you. Everyone here just wants what's best for you. And don't be afraid of what comes next. That's what family is for. We'll help you.
Sitting at Jude's table, I stared at my phone and marveled over the fact that she could see through me, even this far away. There was comfort in that consistency, even if it still terrified me to try to figure out what came next.
"Good morning," Jude grumbled, walking into the kitchen with a slight smile on his face. "Coffee? Tea?"
"Coffee would be great."
He paused in the act of opening a cupboard. "You're okay to drink it?"
I nodded. "A cup or two won't hurt anything."
"Right."
He measured the grounds and added water to a very normal-looking coffee maker, the kind I used in my apartment back in Seattle.
My old apartment, I mentally corrected. The one that wasn't waiting for me when I came back. That pit opened up again, and I kicked it closed in my mind.
"You were smiling awfully big for someone who hasn't had caffeine yet," he said.
"I was texting Claire."
"That's your twin sister, right?" he asked.
"Yeah." When I sighed, he chuckled under his breath. "I miss her," I admitted.
"That'll happen."
While I watched him move around his kitchen with such ease, I tucked my knees up against my chest and thought of all the things I didn't know about Jude.
"I haven't even told my family yet."
Jude gave me a surprised look. "Why not?"
"Claire knows," I amended. "But I think I'm running out of time on the rest of them."
Before he said anything, he reached into a small cupboard and took out a small container, then two white plates. On the plate, he put a scone and set it on the table in front of me. Out of the fridge, he produced a container of jam, then clotted cream.
"They'll want to know everything," I explained. "How I feel and what I want and what's going to happen ..." My voice trailed off.
"What happens next is on you and me, yeah?" He took a seat across from me, sliding the cream and jam in my direction. "If we're making our own rules and all."
"Yeah."
His eyebrows lifted. "You don't sound sure of that."
"I am." I inhaled. "But a big family that's also an opinionated family, and not just big and opinionated, but we've always walked through big life stuff together, you know? They'll have thoughts. And I'll know all of them in less than five minutes of dropping the proverbial bomb."
"Ahh," he answered carefully.
For a moment, I waited to see if he'd elaborate, but he simply stayed quiet.
"Is your family like that?" I asked casually.
"No." He nudged the plate closer, my cue to stuff my face with more carbs. Like I needed encouragement there. "Compliments of Mrs. Atkinson," he explained. "I try not to eat too many of them during the season, but I figure this is a good morning to indulge a bit."
There was an undercurrent to his words, and a warmth in his tone as he said them, but in the wake of my messages from Claire, I wasn't sure I was ready to explore what that was. Making our own rules was great and all, but I still didn't know what the hell Jude and I really were. And for now, I was okay with that. So was he.
But even knowing that, Claire was right. I was afraid to tell my family because it meant I had to face all the questions when none of the questions had answers.
About me, me and the baby, me and Jude and the baby, and me and Jude. Separate categories with lots and lots of unanswered questions.
As I broke open the scone and spread the cream over the surface, followed by the jam, I thought about how rarely I needed to explain the dynamic of my family to someone who had no backstory.
"I'm going to tell them today."
He watched me carefully. "All right."
"Have you told your family yet?"
"No."
I waited for him to elaborate. But again, it was just ... that one word. There was no emotion in it, just like there was no change in his eyes or mouth. Huh.
The bite I took of the scone was indecently big, as was the moan that came out of my mouth as I chewed. His crooked grin in response was a whole lot of things. Endearing. Human. Sexy AF. I managed to swallow. "Holy shit, did she bake these?"
"I reckon she did, but she'll never admit it if she didn't."
"If I could bake a scone like this, I'd tell everyone I've ever met in my entire life. Don't ever fire her."
Jude was so amused, eyes warm and dancing like I'd not seen them since that first night.
"Whu?" I asked, mouth full of happiness. His gaze, well ... it was more loaded than my scone. And I had a lot of cream on that baby.
"I can't remember the last time I gained so much pleasure from something so small."
As I swallowed, I imagined that my cheeks were bright ass red. This guy had me flustered and quite easily. Normally, I was the fluster-er. With men. Or maybe, compared to Jude, they'd all been boys. There was no way for me to run circles around this man or outmaneuver him to get what I wanted.
And honestly, all I wanted was more stretches of time like the one we'd just had—uncomplicated snuggling, a little flirting, and a side of baked goods. I broke off a corner of the scone and held it out to him, pulling my fingers back when he tried to reach for it.
Feeding him something delicious when I felt like it. That was one of my new rules.
Understanding lit his eyes with something steamy that I felt right between my thighs.
Jude opened his mouth, and I set the scone in. Before I could retract my hand, he gripped my wrist and held it in place, sucking lightly at the tips of my fingers.
Now that I felt in entirely different areas of my body. If I wasn't nipping out through my shirt, it would be a freaking miracle.
"Delicious," he murmured.
The way he licked his lips as we both settled back in our seats had me feeling all squirmy and restless, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knew it.
"I have to go to the facility in a bit," he told me.
I nodded. I knew the drill, so it wasn't surprising. "Meetings?"
"Not today. I need some work done on my hamstring, and I'm sure my manager wants to make my ears bleed, reminding me why I'm old and slow and can't score goals anymore."
He sounded so deliciously grumpy when he said it that I smiled.
"Oh, that's funny?" he asked.
I swear, I tried to wipe the grin off my face. It was so tempting to climb on his lap and show him exactly how not-old and not-slow he was, and all the different ways he could score, but I also knew this was a bruise for every elite athlete.
"No." I wiped scone crumbs off the side of my mouth. "Should I clear out when you do?"
Jude shrugged. "No rush on my end, unless you need to get your friend's car back to Oxford."
I shook my head. "She doesn't need it until this weekend. I may work here while you're gone, if that's okay with you? Maybe get the phone call out of the way too."
What a seemingly insignificant thing I was asking. But it wasn't, and I think we both knew it. Allowing me into his space with no supervision was a big freaking deal.
He stood, taking a moment to tower over where I sat in that chair. Jude lifted his hand, brushing an errant crumb from the corner of my lips. "Whatever you need, it's yours."
&
nbsp; Well, okay then. If he was trying to make me want to mount him like a bucking bronco, he was doing an excellent job.
That smirk, that warmth, it returned, and I think he knew exactly what was going on in my head.
Maybe we had a thousand unanswered questions between us, but whether we wanted each other was not one of them.
"I need to change and go," he said.
I nodded. Good. I needed him to change and go too because now that my belly was full of carbs and coffee was hitting my system, I was feeling all sorts of feelings that I shouldn't be feeling.
All of them complicated.
And I think he knew that too. He asked quietly, "Do you want me to be a part of the call with your family?"
Did I? Let me contemplate that for all of about one one-hundredth of a second ...
Absolutely not.
Logan would have a heart attack on the spot. Paige would find a way to become the first human to physically burst through a FaceTime call and appear next to me, simply so she could castrate Jude. Just ... nope.
And he did not need to know any of that yet. I didn't need any of that yet.
"No, that's okay. I think it'll be easier if I do it myself."
"Are you sure?"
"No," I answered.
Jude smiled. "You have ten minutes to change your mind because after that, I'll likely be gone until around four."
"I won't change my mind."
Having him there would definitely make it harder. And telling them was already going to be hard enough.
Chapter Thirteen
Lia
Any strong offensive scheme had certain key components, and when it came to me telling my family the news, I was going to approach this exactly like it was coming straight out of a football playbook.
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