Page 24

Chapter 23

Jude

M ila was propped up against the throne of pillows I’d constructed, her hair wild and her face flushed.

I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“You really know how to blow a girl’s mind, Lumbersnack.”

I couldn’t hide my massive grin if I tried. This woman had one hell of a mouth. I lay beside her, one arm behind my head, and stared at the ceiling fan, giving myself a moment to just be. My life had gone off the rails recently, but this was a very welcome development.

Now, the question was, when could we do it again? And could this become an indefinite arrangement?

I opened my mouth to suggest that very thing, but she spoke first.

“I want to level set,” she said slowly. “This was a danger bang.”

My stomach sank. “Sorry, what?”

“I’ve been in this situation before. Adrenaline is high, and we’re stuck together, running from bad guys. It’s a cocktail for wild sex. Trust me, people in war zones fuck like bunnies.”

I sat up, straightening my glasses. Talk about adrenaline. I was hit with a new rush of it.

“How many?” I blurted out. Bile rose up my throat. Calling what we had just done banging really stung my ego. “You know, uh”—fuck, I didn’t want to use the term, but I didn’t want to scare her off either—“danger bangs? Is this a regular thing for you?”

She sat up too, her breasts bouncing in a way that made my brain go blank.

“Don’t you dare slut shame me.” She poked me in the chest, her lip curling. “Like you should talk, Mr. Musician with soulful eyes and poetic tattoos.”

Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t a possessive caveman. I didn’t judge people and I certainly hadn’t meant to imply that she’d done something wrong. But the mention of other men had made me see red.

“You,” she continued poking my bare chest, “are sluttier than a pair of gray sweatpants, so you do not get to judge me.”

I held my hands up. “I wasn’t judging. I promise. I only got a little possessive.” Grasping at straws, desperate to placate her, I kissed her neck. “Forgive me, Trouble. I’m drunk on you. The smell of you, the taste of your skin. Don’t blame me for things I say while under the influence.”

My hands had a mind of their own, already cupping her breasts.

She let out a sigh, head dropped back against the headboard. “You really know how to apologize to a girl.”

With a grin, I cuffed her neck and captured her mouth. “You can’t blame a guy for wanting more than one night.”

She shifted beside me, giving me more access to her body. “I don’t make long-term promises, Jude. Life is too volatile. Especially now.”

With a noncommittal hum, I captured one of her perfect nipples in my mouth, sucking and lathing and nipping.

She was right, this probably was a danger bang. And yes, our entire world could come crashing down tomorrow. But that only made me want her more. A real connection. Something to hang on to when times were tough.

“The only promise I’m offering is to make you come as many times as I can.” I kissed her sternum, then gave the other nipple attention.

She cried out and gripped my cock, which was hard and desperate for her.

“I like that idea.”

* * *

It was after midnight when I let Ripley out for the last time and emptied the dishwasher. Mila was out cold, but I couldn’t sleep. My body was vibrating, itching to move.

I could only watch her sleep for so long. I’d already felt like a creeper. Any longer, and I didn’t think I could live with myself.

Plus, I had to do something with my hands so I could process what we’d done.

I’d been impulsive. I’d followed my gut and not my brain.

Fuck. I couldn’t even blame it on my gut. No, I’d followed my dick. And it had led to spectacular results. Even so, I was second-guessing myself. One night with Mila would never be enough.

I knew that from experience. I’d had one night more than a year ago and hadn’t stopped thinking about her since.

How the hell had I ever thought I could get her out of my system?

Especially now that I knew her, now that I’d held her?

Her words chafed. What we were doing felt like a hell of a lot more than a hookup. It felt real and scary and beautiful.

But the moment those thoughts had formed in my mind, she’d brought me right back down to earth.

Though she’d fallen asleep in my bed, I had to assume I should sleep on the couch. So I gulped down a glass of water and looked out at the moonlight, grateful she hadn’t bothered trying to move to the couch.

We had an established routine. She’d fall asleep out here, insisting that was where she preferred to sleep. Then, when she was out cold, I’d pick her up and carry her to my bed, arranging the pillows to support her shoulder.

My old routine consisted of work, running with Ripley, spending quiet evenings at home reading, and playing guitar.

This new life I’d fallen into was wild.

All day, I found myself itching to go home to her.

It had become second nature to pick up small things—food, necessities, books—for her from town.

And my typical evening routine had gone out the window. Thankfully Ripley wasn’t afraid to alert me when she had a need, because I was distracted.

It was bizarre. I thrived on routine. I loved the simplicity of knowing what I’d be doing and when I’d be doing it.

But Mila had changed all that. She wasn’t a hurricane or a tornado. No, she was her own weather system: volatile, constantly changing, and requiring constant monitoring for surprise danger.

And I was beginning to think that was what my life had been missing. Why, though I fought against the thought, it had felt flat, empty.

I let Ripley inside, still lost in my thoughts. As I set my glass in the dishwasher, Mila let out a blood-curdling scream.

Heart in my throat, I darted to the bedroom. I pushed open the door, and as Ripley slipped past me, I found Mila still in bed, eyes closed, crying and thrashing.

Ripley spun in a circle, whining.

I kneeled beside the bed and cupped Mila’s face. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

She continued to whimper, saying “please, please” over and over again.

Gently, I shook her good shoulder and called her name again.

Finally, her eyes popped open. She sat up straight, immediately crying out and grabbing her injured arm. “What happened?” she gasped.

“I think you were having a nightmare.”

She nodded. “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

I rubbed circles on her back, noting the damp fabric. The dream had to have been intense. She was covered in sweat. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Try to breathe.”

When I returned, I sat on the edge of the mattress. My hands shook as I held the cup out to her. The thought that she was in danger, no matter how fleeting it had been, had completely fried my nervous system.

“They found me,” she whispered as she wiped at her mouth. “Here. I dreamed that they found me. And you.” She shook her head. “It was bad.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of that possibility settling in the air.

Eventually, though, I couldn’t stand the ache that had overtaken me, knowing she was so frightened. “They’re not going to find you,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. “As far as they know, you’re in another country by now.”

“Sure.” She sniffed back tears. “But what about my mom? And Hugo? And you and your family? This is bigger than just me now.”

A chill ran through me. She was right. We couldn’t remain in this protective bubble forever.

“I know you’re scared. We’ll get through it—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I should go. Being here puts you in danger. And I care about you too much—”

“I can handle myself,” I assured her, gently taking the glass from her hand. “I want you here.”

Her breath hitched. “You do?”

In the dim light of the moon, eyes still wet with tears, she looked so innocent. So fragile. “Yes, Mila. I want you here. We’re so close to figuring this out. And until then, I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

She rested her head on my shoulder and let out a heavy breath.

“When I was a little girl and I’d have nightmares,” she said, “my dad would take me outside to look at the stars. It was a reminder that all our problems were small compared to the vastness of the universe. It was comforting, you know? That realization. The perspective it gave.”

“Then put your shoes on.”

It was below freezing, but I’d do anything to take away the fear still gripping her.

We bundled up, and I eased into one of the Adirondack chairs in the backyard and pulled her into my lap. Together we stared out at the vast sky, drinking in the glow of the stars and the waning moon above our heads.

“I’d do this when I was on assignment overseas. I’d go out and take in the night sky. It made me feel connected to home. To my family.”

We sat, curled up, for a while, keeping each other warm.

When a big yawn escaped me before I could stop it, she stood. “Thank you. Now let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

I hauled myself up and stretched, then shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat, wishing I’d thought to wear gloves.

As I balled them into fists, one hand wrapped around a cool metal object.

Shit.

I pulled the thumb drive out of my coat pocket.

“What’s that?”

“I’d forgotten. Noah gave this to me earlier. He wouldn’t tell me what it contains, but he said it would help us.”

Her eyes widened as I handed it to her. “Evidence?”

“I hope so.”

She punched my shoulder, her face scrunching. “You had critical evidence and forgot to tell me?”

“I’m sorry.” I cringed, holding my hands up in defense. “I rushed home to tell you, but then I got distracted.”

She let out a giggle and patted my chest. “It’s okay. I forgive you. And for the record, the fastest way to earn forgiveness is with orgasms.”

Hope bloomed in my chest. “Noted.”

“Now let’s go to sleep. We can look at this first thing tomorrow.”

Once we were settled, her surrounded by pillows and me lying on my side, keeping my hands to myself for fear that I’d hurt her in my sleep, she eyed Ripley, who was standing sentry between us and the door, and patted the mattress.

“Come here, girl,”

Ripley cocked her head and looked at me. I’d trained her not to jump on the bed. She spent most of her days in the woods, and though I bathed her regularly, it was impossible to always keep her paws dirt-free. This was my sanctuary. Hers was the very expensive L.L. Bean orthopedic dog bed on the other side of the room.

“It’s okay, girl,” Mila cooed. “He’s a big softie. He won’t deny you. Up.”

Ripley didn’t need another invitation. In one smooth move, she hopped onto the bed, and after circling twice, she curled up by Mila’s feet.

“Good girl. Love you, Ripley.” Mila stroked her fur and smiled back at me. “She’s the best dog.”

I squinted at her. This was a onetime deal, and Ripley knew it. “She’s all right.”

“Thank you both. For making me feel less alone.”

After she coaxed me closer and draped my arm over her torso, I held her as she drifted off. Damn, this felt good. Her in my bed, in my arms. But I knew better than to let myself think it would happen again.