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And something else that is entirely all Jude.
And I think I might be thoroughly and completely out of my mind, to just be straight-up sniffing him without restraint. The vibration of his chuckle against my cheek would confirm it so. The sound rains down my back, sending goosebumps up my spine.
When his arms finally fall down around me, too—softly, cautiously—the goosebumps spread…everywhere.Lighting a path down every possible surface of my skin.
But then I remember.I remember—the party, and the girl, and her hands all over him, one sliding up his chest. I remember that Jude doesn’t like to be touched.
Pulling away abruptly, my gaze crashes into his with an apology already on my lips. “I am so sorry. I’ve obviously lost my mind and am not thinking properly. But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have done that; I shouldn’t have…” My words trail off when I realize Jude is still holding me against him, his arms wrapped firmly around me, confusion sweeping through his features.
He doesn’t look the least bit bothered.
“It’s just—I thought,” I stumble over my words, my heart racing.
He tuts his head back and forth. “It’s all good, Little D. It’s just a hug.”Just a hug,he says, but it feels like something infinitely more. Like I was just given a gift not easily bestowed. Like I still am, with his arms still wrapped around me, myhands still planted at his sides, sandwiched between his ribs and elbows, my fingers drowning in the fabric of his black sweatshirt.
It's only now that I notice the smoke curling from his mouth, rolling upward toward the sky. It’s the only thing providing a barrier between me and his intense stare, and my gaze oscillates between it and his mouth. Two full, slightly parted lips. A sharply pointed cupid’s bow. And that stare.Up and back down, back up and down again,mesmerized.
But then he’s moving backward, breaking every point of our contact.
Pinched between his fingers, held up between us, he offers me his joint. And for a moment, I think about it. Taking it from his hand, inhaling the soothing drug into my lungs and letting it melt away the rest of my lingering anxiety—pressing myself closer and returning the favor from all these weeks ago, exhaling the smoke directly into his mouth from mine.
But I shake my head, knowing it’s the last thing my already murky brain needs.
I feel a small pang of loss at the missed opportunity, though.
Iwantto press closer.
Wantto kiss him.
Wantto feel his mouth on mine.
I continue to stare up at him, my body going completely still. My heart stalls inside my chest, and my breaths catch in my throat, because…Am I about to? Yeah, I think I am…I move closer, stepping into him until our chests are touching, my feet sandwiched between his, and lift up onto my toes.
His stare heats immediately, like a lit match thrown to gasoline, and my heart stutters back to life. It races so fast its beats are a steady earthquake rumbling through my veins as he tips his head lower, his forehead falling against my own.
A violent storm rages in his gaze, battling against something unknown. Something I can’t quite understand.
And yet still, I move closer.
Close enough to feel the tempo of his heart thrashing against my own.
Close enough to feel his sharp, harsh breath fan across my lips.
Close enough to watch the embers in his stare burn that much brighter.
“Kiss me. Please.” I don’t know where the words come from, but I’m glad I dug them up and said them out loud. It feels like they’ve been buried for weeks and weeks on end.
His tattooed fingers meet my chin, tipping my head backward. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Little D,” he grits out. “What you’re asking of me. Because I’d want that and a lot fucking more, and I’m not sure either of us are equipped to—”
“I’m just asking you to kiss me,” I interrupt, because it feels that simple—even though, logically, I know he’s right and it’s not. But all I can think about are the mere inches of space separating his mouth from mine. The way the sharp curve of his lips would feel against mine. “I want you to kiss me, Jude,” I whisper, quietly, “really fucking badly.”
He groans—a deep, guttural, throaty sound—and then his lips land harshly against my own.
I melt into him immediately, liquifying beneath his touch.
His firm grasp on my jaw, his fingers splayed against my throat; his other inked hand pressed into the base of my spine, dragging me into him—it makes me feel like my feet are drifting from the floor. Like I’m levitating, floating, and his hands are the only reason I’m still anchored to the ground.
He moves his mouth over mine slowly, exploring with intention, pressing and sliding against my own like he’s mapping the shape of my lips.