by R. C. Martin
“So, this is what smitten Teddy looks like,” cooed Carrie. She propped her chin on her folded hands and smiled at me with her dark brown eyes as she added, “I approve. Also—he’s hot!”
“Hey,” grunted Andrew with a playful glare.
“You know how much I love you,” she replied, nudging her shoulder against his. “But even you can’t deny that man is hot.”
“She makes a valid point,” said Geoffrey.
Andrew shook his head but conceded to the majority. This made both Carrie and I laugh.
Leaning toward me, Geoffrey waggled his eyebrows and queried, “What was he whispering that had you giggling like a school girl?”
I shifted my gaze in Judah’s direction. “Inside joke.”
“Oh, baby girl,” sighed Geoffrey. I looked at him then, and he said, “You’re falling for him.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but there were no words to give him. Not yet. Not in that moment. I couldn’t lie to my best friend. I wouldn’t. And yet, I wasn’t ready to wrap words around what I felt for Judah. It didn’t feel safe. Not because I couldn’t trust the people at the table with me, but because what Judah and I had still felt so undefined—and undefined felt the same as fragile. Sure, he’d just kissed me in public, which was something he had never done, but I wanted only to relish in that, not squander it.
Fortunately, before Geoffrey could press the issue, Judah occupied the seat beside me. Even more, Geoffrey kept his promise and was on his best behavior. Neither him, nor Andrew, grilled Judah with a bunch of questions. We kept the conversation light and fun, and I found myself easing into the comfortable vibe the five of us created.
At one point, the topic of discussion left room for Carrie to ask, “So, Judah, will you be joining us for dinner on Theodora Day?”
Judah looked at me with a raised, inquisitive eyebrow. “Theodora Day? I’ve heard nothing of this.”
“Teddy! You didn’t tell him it was your birthday next Thursday?” Geoffrey reprimanded.
I shrank into myself a little, shrugging my shoulders as I tried to find the words to explain.
“No. It’s never—I mean, it’s never come up. I’m sorry. You’re welcome to come, if you want,” I muttered. After the invitation was extended, I was aware of how pathetic it sounded.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t listen to her,” Geoffrey insisted. “She’s being shy. She loves birthdays. We all have a day, and hers is a week from today. It’s a huge deal. Every year, Harper takes off work and they spend the whole day together. At nightfall is when the rest of us tagalongs get to join in on the festivities, and we go to dinner and wherever else Harper can think of to keep Teddy out the rest of the night. If you give two shits about this girl, you’ll definitely be there.”
“Oh, my god—Geoff!” I gasped, feeling slightly embarrassed. My Viking did little more than wink at me before he lifted his beer to his lips. I stifled a groan as I turned to address Judah. “It’s okay if you’re busy. Really. It’s really okay.”
“I’ll check my calendar and let you know.” After the words were out of his mouth, he was checking the time on his watch. “For now, I’ve got to go. Are you good to get home?”
I glanced at my second glass of cider, which I hardly touched, and then offered him a nod. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He stood and I nodded, a little sad to see him go. Then he gripped the side of my neck, grazing the hairs beneath my ponytail at my nape, and we were transported into another isolated moment I couldn’t escape.
Leaning down to whisper in my ear, he said, “You have no idea how hard it’s going to be for me to walk away from you without having tasted the inside of your mouth. You owe me.”
He kissed me then. It was chaste, but it was hard, and I leaned into it. When he started to pull away, I realized how wrong he was. I had more than an idea of how hard it was for him to leave after such a short exchange.
I wanted more, too.
He offered everyone a blanket farewell, and then I watched him leave. It was when Carrie spoke that I brought my attention back to the table.
“I think it’s safe to say we’ll be seeing him next Thursday.”
I cut my eyes at Geoffrey and shook my head. “He probably won’t come. I can’t believe you made such a big deal about it.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t believe he didn’t know.” He reached for my face and pretended to study me, as if he was truly stumped about something. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Freckles?”
Batting his hand away, I muttered, “Come on. I told you. He’s not my boyfriend. I can’t pressure him like that. You shouldn’t either.”
I didn’t want to admit I wanted him to come. I hadn’t invited him because the last thing I wanted was to scare him away. My birthday was a big deal. Everyone’s birthday was a big deal to me. I didn’t want to spoil mine by pretending he and I were in a place we weren’t. I was afraid of disappointment, so I left him out of it. If he didn’t have the opportunity to tell me no, I wouldn’t have to bear the sting of his rejection.
“He’ll be there,” Geoffrey stated confidently. “I’ll bet my right testicle that he’ll be there.”
I scoffed and held out my hand. “You’re on. You totally owe me one of your balls after that.”
“Please,” he replied with an arched brow. Taking hold of my hand, we shook as he said, “I don’t owe you a thing. He’ll be there. You’re welcome.”
Chapter Forty
I let myself into my apartment and shut the door with my stiletto heel. Heading straight for my coffee table, I set down the vase of flowers Judah sent me earlier in the day. Kicking my feet out of my shoes, I tossed my purse onto my couch and plucked the note he’d written out of the arrangement full of orange and yellow gerbera daisies, red roses, and sunflowers. I’d read it half a dozen times already, but that hardly mattered. I let my eyes scan over his neat print once more as I slowly made my way toward my room.
JANE AUSTIN REQUIRES NO BRIBE.
STILL, I PLAN ON TOUCHING YOU
WHEREVER I WANT.
JUDE
As soon as I’d received the gift, I was quick to send him a text. Our short exchange ended with an invitation. I was going to his house for dinner. And while he had earned the right to touch me—wherever he wanted—I had also won a prize. Upon entering my room, I set aside his note and reached for my Nikon. With every intention of capturing the man from behind my lens, I found my camera bag and stowed my prized possession. Then it hit me anew.
I’m going to do this.
I was able to think practically for all of ten minutes. Setting my stowed camera on my bed, I began to pile other necessities I thought might be appropriate for the night. While I wasn’t sure whether or not Judah’s invitation would extend until morning, it didn’t hurt to arrive prepared. With that in mind, I grabbed my travel toothbrush, my phone charger, and an extra pair of panties. After I dropped my overnight supplies into my purse, I started to freak out a little.
I wasn’t afraid of Judah. Remarkable as it was, considering how we’d first met, I trusted him. For weeks, he had respected my boundaries. Never once did he push them. Of course, he wasn’t shy about his desire for more, and I knew his light was always green if ever I was to change my mind, but that was all it was—a possibility. That night would be different. That night, we were going to cross a line.
He was going to cross a line, and I was going to let him.
I wasn’t even sure I remembered what it was like to be touched. What I did know was the way Judah made me feel. I knew the way my body responded to his. There was no denying how much I was attracted to him. But, more than that, I couldn’t pretend he wasn’t capable of leaving me sexually charged in a way no man ever had before.
I was excited. The two chaste kisses he gave me the night prior left me hungry for more. It had been nearly a week since we were alone together, and I was anxious to be with him. I longed to
have him to myself; to occupy his private space, and to be welcomed in a way I felt sure he hadn’t allowed another woman in a very long time. Yet, at the same time, I was so incredibly nervous. Our histories were very different, and it seemed as though they were going to be on a collision course that night.
Combatting my nerves was what I tried to do as I knotted my hair into a bun on top of my head and hopped in the shower. I tried not to think about why I thought a quick shave was necessary. I didn’t give any special reason to why I lathered my skin with lotion after I’d dried my body. I told myself it was habitual to put a little makeup on—even if we were staying in. And as I stared into my underwear drawer, trying to decide what I wanted to wear, I convinced myself my choice in undergarments had nothing to do with the ways in which I knew Judah would touch me later.
At least—I tried to convince myself.
By the time I was half dressed, I knew I needed to just get out of my head and be on my way. Standing in front of my closet, I decided on my white and navy striped t-shirt dress within seconds. The hem stopped at the middle of my thigh, but I wasn’t worried about hiding my tattoos. Not from Judah. I paired the dress with my matching, navy Toms, grabbed my bags, and headed out for the night.
It was a few minutes after eight when I arrived at Judah’s place. I knocked on his front door, but when he didn’t answer after a minute, I tried the handle. One push, and the door was eased open.
“Judah?” I called out, hesitantly stepping inside.
He stepped out of his office as I closed the door behind me. His phone was pressed against his ear, and he held up a finger. Understanding I had interrupted him, I mouthed sorry and waved an apology. My response earned me a frown, and he shook his head before waving me over. I obeyed, setting my things at the base of the stairs as I made my way toward him. The moment I was in reaching distance, he bent just enough to wrap his free arm around my waist. He pulled me against him snuggly as he muttered some sort of agreement to whomever was on the other end of his phone.
With his eyes staring straight at me, he listened for only another second, and then both of his arms were around me and his lips were on mine. My body responded without hesitation, and I circled my arms around his shoulders. I held onto him and was soon lost in his affection. He parted my lips with his tongue, and I pressed up onto my tiptoes so as to invite him to kiss me deeper. He hummed into my mouth, and my belly tingled in excitement.
Then, just as abruptly as it began, it was over. Judah tore his mouth from mine and brought his phone back up to his ear. Breathless, I stood with my body still wrapped around his. He offered another distracted agreement, as if he’d been listening to the person on the other end of his call the whole time.
“Look, Brittany, I have to go. Go home. We’ll deal with it on Monday.”
Brittany said something else, but the conversation was clearly over. At least, I hoped it was—because the next thing Judah did was hang up before he pocketed his phone.
“I could have waited. If that was important, I could have—”
He cut me off with a kiss. His lips still grazing mine, he muttered, “Not that important.”
Again, he circled both arms around me. Only this time, as he held me tight, he lifted me from my feet before he swept his tongue through my mouth. I felt trapped against his hard, warm chest, and I was certain there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
He kissed me until my stomach interrupted us with a growl, and then he set me down so we could head upstairs. He’d made us salmon for dinner, and we ate at his dining room table. Just like the previous weekend, he wouldn’t hear of me doing the dishes, but I didn’t put up a fight. With my belly full, and a glass of wine in my system, I was ready to take out my Nikon and play a little.
“What got you into photography?” Judah asked as he brought the remainder of our wine and our glasses into the living room.
Attaching my lens to the camera, I told him, “My sophomore year in college, I took a photography class as an elective. I love art—obviously—but I’ve never considered myself an artist. At least, that’s what I used to think before I started taking photos. Not that I think my work is good enough to hang on anyone’s wall as art, but it’s art to me.”
“And people are your usual subjects?”
He sat on the couch, and I perched myself on the corner of the coffee table. “Yeah. I mean, if I’m out on a hike, I’ll take some nature shots; but I like capturing a moment in someone’s life that they’ll never get back. That, in and of itself, is art in my opinion.”
Judah studied me for a moment, as if he was absorbing my words, and then inquired, “So how does this work?”
Smiling, I instructed, “I don’t want you to think about it.”
He lifted a single eyebrow dubiously.
“You’re hanging out with me.” I slipped my feet out of my Toms and stood. “Just act natural. Talk to me.”
“And, what, pretend you don’t have a camera aimed at my face?”
“Exactly,” I replied, amused.
He squinted at me playfully and then began to relax. Lifting his right leg, he rested his ankle across his knee and asked, “What would you like me to talk about?”
“How about—Pride and Prejudice.”
A sly smile crept its way across his face, and I was quick to capture the moment.
Click.
I didn’t bother to glance at the digital image as it appeared on the preview screen. He moved, and I was too busy looking for my next shot.
“What is it about Darcy you like so much?”
He tugged at the sleeves of his cream colored, long-sleeved t-shirt, exposing his forearms and his beautiful timepiece. It took me a moment to process his question, my mind occupied with trying to figure out how to capture the ways in which Judah could be casual, sophisticated, and classy all at once.
Click.
Pausing, I held my camera close to my chest and replied, “Well, I like how frustrating he is—the way he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings. He wants Elizabeth long before he’s willing to admit it. He puts on this façade that’s cold and rude, but that’s not who he is at all. He’s an asshole because he’s experienced pain and betrayal—both of which he felt in reaction to his sister’s pain. It’s just—he’s loyal and—I don’t know. Complicated. Extravagantly complicated. And classic. Honestly, I could go on and on.”
“I suppose he was all right,” said Judah, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair.
Click.
“He’s no Tyler Durden.”
“Oh, my gosh,” I gushed, plopping onto the cushion beside Judah. “Such good writing. I’ve seen the movie. I knew what was going on, but it still blew my mind. You were right. The book was brilliant in its own right.”
He chuckled, and the sight brought a smile to my face as I lifted my camera.
Click.
“Poor Marla, though,” I murmured in remembrance. “Talk about playing a girl hot and cold.”
Again, Judah grew silent, a contemplative expression shaping the features of his face. When I thought I couldn’t handle another second of silence, he gently reached for my camera. Surrendering it, I muttered, “Wh—what are you doing?”
“I don’t really want to talk about Marla,” he said, setting my Nikon on the coffee table. “I don’t want to talk about Tyler or how he played her hot and cold.” When his hands were free, he reached for my waist and said, “There’s someone I’d like to play with. Come ‘ere.”
I sucked in a breath, my brain’s way of giving voice to the jumbled emotions I felt at his invitation. Though, my body seemed not to object to his advances. Before I knew it, I was sitting astride his lap. My breaths grew shallow as he skimmed his hands up my bare thighs and beneath the hem of my hiked-up dress.
“Remember our deal, Teddy,” he started to say, his voice low and soft. Softer than I’d ever heard it. His fingertips grazed the skin just below my underwear as he murmured, “Anywhere I want.”
> My hands gripped the seam of his shirt at his shoulders as my belly twirled inside of me. I was off-kilter, nervous, and unsure; except, it wasn’t his actions that made me unsure—it was whether or not he would enjoy what I felt ready to offer him.
“Teddy?”
I wasn’t aware I hadn’t responded to him until he repeated my name. As he skimmed his hands further up my dress and around my hips, I still couldn’t find my words.
“I’m going to put my fingers inside of you.” He leaned closer, so his nose was grazing mine—his lips a mere breath away. “I want to feel you come.” He squeezed my hips and my heart leapt as he whispered, “I need to fuck you. I’ve waited too long.”
With one of his hands, he skimmed his fingertips beneath the front waistband of my panties, and I thought I’d never be able to take a deep breath again.
Panting, I pulled at his shirt and muttered, “Wait.” He paused, and a small wave of relief gave me the courage to lean back enough to see into his eyes. “You’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”
“You’re not going to tell me to stop,” he snickered.
“But—but you will?”
He pressed his lips to mine, then eased his hand into my panties and over my sex. “You’re not going to tell me to stop,” he repeated.
I was trembling before he slipped a finger between my folds—then he grazed over my entrance, and I felt boneless. With his other hand still under my dress, he felt his way up my back and splayed his fingers open wide as he held me close. His mouth sealed with mine, and muscle memory made me kiss him back as he coaxed my arousal.
When his finger was soaked, he dragged it up to my clit and circled my bundle of nerves once. I whimpered into his mouth and wrapped my arms around him, instinctively aware that I needed him closer. This elicited a moan from him—and I felt it as it rumbled through his chest. No sooner had the noise escaped him, than he shoved his hand further into my panties and inserted his finger inside of me.