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Then he stops and all his anger is suddenly directed at me. “What the fuck was that?” he yells, throwing a deranged arm out toward the steam room door. “Are you purposely trying to send me over the edge?”
“What?” My shock is leaving, and coming fast up the back is anger. “Do you think I skulk around local steam rooms jumping men?”
He huffs and turns his back on me. “I know what I fucking saw, Amelia.”
“I thought it was you!” I shout, outraged. “And don’t turn your back on me.”
He swings around, his jaw tense, his eyes dark, dark blue. “Well, it wasn’t me!”
“I know!” I snap my mouth shut when Anouska walks into the spa, her heels skidding to a stop when she sees us.
“How dare you let another man taste you, Amelia. How dare you!”
I blink as Anouska slowly backs out, wary and shocked. Good, I’m glad, because his reaction to this is shocking. “How dare I?” I ask. Who the hell does he think he is? “You don’t own me. I’m not yours.”
“Wrong,” he hisses, crowding me. “You are so fucking wrong.”
What?God, my head feels like it could fall off. This is crazy. I sag where I stand. In my fucking bikini.
“It was an honest mistake,” I say calmly, hoping he feeds off me because this is getting us nowhere, and my head is hurting now more than ever before.Are you purposely trying to send me over the edge?
I’m on the edge with him.
“And how many ‘honest mistakes’ can I expect you to make going forward?” he asks.
Going forward? Where the hell are we going?Someone please tell me!“Are you hearing yourself, Jude?”
“Yes, I’m fucking hearing myself.” He slips an arm around my lower back and hauls me into his body. My palms find his shoulders, my bare front compressed to his. “I don’t want anyone else touching what’s mine.” His face softens as he gazes at me. I don’t bother telling him I’m not his again. It would be fucking pointless, because when he has his hands on me, his mouth on me, his eyes on me, God damn me, I am.
“I thought it was you.”
“No, Amelia, this is me.” He sweeps in and swallows me whole with a kiss, making it hard, passionate, and urgent. His tongue lashes through my mouth, and mine has no choice but to follow, accepting the force. I’m a slave to his demand. Once again, lost. Once again, at his mercy. Once again, consumed by him.
Jude gasps when he breaks our kiss, pushing his forehead into mine firmly; then he pulls away, not looking me in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, taking a few deep breaths, looking troubled. Then he turns on his bare feet and walks away, leaving me in a riot of confusion.
“Jude,” I call. “Jude, stop.”
He doesn’t.
My heart races, my lips sore from his forceful kiss. He’s sorry? The door closes behind him, and I glance around the empty space, lost. What now? Does he want me to leave? Stay? And does it matter? What doIwant to do?
I want to go after him and nail him down, press him to kill this curiosity inside, answer all my questions, tell me where this is going.
But that would be dumb. After all, we’re nothing, just two people with an inexorable chemistry who are exploring it.
Right?
I don’t know!
I snatch my robe down and cover myself, leaving the spa and making my way through the glass corridor, stopping when I pass the gym. I see him lying on a bench at the far end, away from everyone else, doing chest presses, his pace rapid and smooth. Exorcising his anger.My God, Jude Harrison, what is going on in that head of yours?
I carry on to the changing rooms and get my phone, calling Abbie and Charley. The moment they both see my face, they start firing questions, none of which I can or want to answer. Which begs the question of why I called them.
“It’s been ... intense,” I say, feeling so pathetic. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what he wants, what he expects.” I laugh. “I don’t even know whatIwant or expect.”
“Oh dear,” Charley breathes.
“Then talk to him,” Abbie blurts.