Page 15 of Feels Like Forever (Undercover Lovers #6)

RONNIE

“ Y ou should have gone home last night, Foxy. You’re gonna be so damn tired tonight.

” I’m hugging Jude at my car the Monday following Rock the Nation.

We’ve done it all, seen everyone we wanted to see, and even spent time with Steve-O, Jude’s friend.

The shitty part of that situation is that Steve-O and his wife got into an argument in front of us, and while it became quite uncomfortable, it was more so for the kids.

Jude and I made the best of it, scooting them away from their setup and taking them to our place.

We played video games with them, fed them dinner, and were about to figure out the sleeping situation when their dad appeared, a look of utter defeat written on his face.

Jude texted him earlier of our whereabouts, his response was one word.

The worst part is, it seemed like the kids and Steve-O were used to these types of scenarios.

I’m unsure of the outcome, so is Jude, but he said he’d check on him when the dust settles.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” Dad called earlier today sounding like absolute shit, and I told him without any hesitation to keep his ass at home, and I’d take care of the bar.

Jude looked at me like I had three heads until I explained what happened.

Dad tried to find someone to fill in, but Zane’s tattoo shop is open, so he’s out.

The other bartender is a single mom, and her schedule is super strict since tending bar is her second job.

“Still, go back to your place and sleep. You don’t have to help me unload the van.

” He kisses the side of my neck and presses his body into mine further.

A lot of the concert goers left last night.

This morning cleared out pretty fast as well, and since the two of us didn’t have much in the way of plans, we took our time.

Until the call came in, then Jude spurred into action, taking down all the outside stuff to be stored while I worked on the inside of his van.

“Or I can help you and take a nap with you when everything’s done.” I’m not ready for our bubble to pop.

Jude’s body freezes. My arms are looped behind his back, and he’s so much taller than me that he has bent at the waist. I’m not worried about the offer I made being the reason he’s staying still.

We’ve been glued to one another all weekend.

Where he goes, I go, and vice versa. The tattoos we got inked on one another say it all.

Even before I knew Jude would be getting a fox on his heart, I had Toula draw mine out.

Jude doesn’t exactly know what it means, and when the time is right, I’ll tell him .

“Fuck yeah, I’d love that. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He lifts his head, and I’m tempted to laugh at his word of honor.

“I hope your fingers are crossed because I’m not giving you the same guarantee.

” I tease the edge of his shorts with my fingers.

We took care of each other numerous times since the first time, both of us using our hands and mouths, and another time, our bodies.

We were completely bare, and I was so close to begging him to slide inside me but held back.

I’m not exactly sure why that is, and since Jude didn’t bring it up, neither did I.

“Foxy,” he grunts, fake admonishment in his tone.

“Jude,” I reply, mimicking him.

“What time do you need to be at the bar?”

“Six. We open later Monday through Wednesday and close at midnight.” I could have sworn I told Jude this before.

Maybe I didn’t. The weekends are our busiest times, especially with Zane’s tattoo shop next door.

While he won’t tattoo anyone remotely inebriated, that doesn’t stop them from having a strong drink afterwards.

“What about the rest of the week?” Obviously, I haven’t told him my schedule, and he’s probably used to the time I get back home instead of the exact time we close.

“Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, it’s four in the afternoon until two in the morning. Sundays, we’re closed, thankfully.” Usually, between Dad, Janelle, and myself, we can tackle it without being dragged through the mud.

“Sunday, I want you all to myself. The rest of the week, we’ll figure out once you know your hours.” He doesn’t ask, he states. And I really like it. He’s taking the guessing game out of the equation, allowing me not to make decisions, and damn, if that isn’t amazing.

“Sunday is yours. It’s usually really late because we’re doing end-of-the-week inventory and all the other shit that gets tossed by the wayside in the middle of the week.

” Dad is in his semi-retirement state, and while he could tend bar while I do the monotonous shit or vice versa, he doesn’t.

I’m going to have to eventually talk to him because doing it all while exploring the relationship that’s building with Jude means working to live, not living to work.

“Got no problem with that. Now, kiss your man, Foxy, and then we’ll head out of here.

” His van is idling near my car. We’ve kept both running with the air conditioning on full blast, and I have a feeling we’re both going to need it to cool down after my lips meet his.

There’s no such thing as a quick kiss when it comes to the two of us, it’s more along the lines of a hot and heavy make-out session where we both become lost in the other, and I freaking love every minute of it.

--

“Time for bed for you,” Jude tells me a couple of hours later after we arrive back at his place.

We worked together seamlessly. When I packed up the inside earlier today, I was smart and placed things together to make it easier to grab and go.

The laundry got started right away, our clothes mixed together, and Jude made no qualms about it.

Then it was transferring all the cold stuff from one fridge to the other.

Once that was done, Jude wrapped everything up with the outside of the van while I did a clean sweep of the floors, wiped down every surface, and called it good to go.

“I’m going to switch the laundry over, and then I will.” I let out a yawn, realizing I’m more tired than I initially thought. I’d already ducked into his bathroom to take a quick shower, and now it’s his turn.

“Meet you in bed.” He’s shirtless, much like he’s been most of the weekend. His tattoo is out in the open, healing exactly like mine.

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing a wave of desire when he shoots me a wink.

I got a quick tour when Jude showed me where the kitchen, laundry room, and pantry were.

From there, I was on my own. Which meant I snooped.

At first, I almost didn’t, worried he’d be upset, but it’s not like we haven’t invaded each other’s space all weekend.

I finish moving the towels from the washer to the dryer.

I already finished our darks and whites, hung up what needed to be line dried and folded what was dry.

Then I turn off the light to walk toward Jude’s bedroom.

As I do, I catalogue the living room. It’s big and full of lush furniture, including dark brown leather couches and knotty pine coffee end tables, plus a console table, which has a massive-as-hell television mounted to the wall above.

There’s a pool in the backyard, surrounded by a massive outdoor space, and I immediately clocked the ashtray on the table he has out there.

Most people would find a man smoking repulsive.

I don’t. And while it’s bad for his health, and there is cause to worry, everyone has a vice they should probably kick.

It’s up to the individual to do the heavy lifting.

I move through the rest of the house. It’s clean, kind of on the sparse side in the form of décor, and mainly has the needs and not the wants.

Unlike mine, where it’s the more the merrier.

My brother and father like to make fun of me because there isn’t a garage sale I could walk past, never mind being unable to pass up buying some little trinket.

Where most new houses are open floor plans, Jude’s isn’t.

His home is also in an older subdivision.

Big oak trees canopy a lot of the sidewalks and streets, giving it that old world feel.

He even has a big front porch, though I can’t imagine him sitting out there while smoking a cigarette, especially in nothing but a towel or pair of shorts.

The hallway houses all three bedrooms along with a bathroom.

I took a quick peek earlier and noticed Jude has a massive home office.

Computer screens littered one side of the walls, while the other areas hold the machines, I think.

I’m not exactly sure. I don’t even have a desktop, preferring to use my trusty laptop I’ve had for years.

I did notice the air conditioning coming out of that room had me shivering.

The other room has a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand.

The two rooms are sandwiched between a bathroom, one that’s bigger than I expected it to be.

A stand-up shower to one side and a clawfoot tub on the other with a full double vanity.

Opulence and luxury are the only way I can describe it.

The shower has two rain showerheads coming from the ceiling and a few on the walls, then there’s a bench the length of one wall.

My mind went wild thinking about so many ways to make use of it.

Jude sitting on the tile bump-out, me on my knees between his spread thighs as he feeds me his cock.

We could always reverse rolls. It could be him in front of me as he eats me like his last meal.

Then there’s my favorite: I’d be completely spread open, my feet on the tile, ass at the ledge, and Jude would fuck me raw while he's on his knees.

A tingle races up my spine, my core aches, and I’m already contemplating ways to deviate him from sleeping or at least to have a little fun before I drift off to sleep.

I make my way into his bedroom and head to the stack of folded clothes in search for one of Jude’s shirts.

It doesn’t take very long for me to strip out of my clothes and slip his on.

While the van didn’t have a designated area of where he sleeps, his bedroom does.

I pull the covers back and move to the right side of the bed, away from the door.

I’m settling in when the door to the bathroom opens. Jude is in nothing but a towel again, and since the covers aren’t over my bare thighs, he can see the way my body reacts to his.

“Fuck me. Resisting you is impossible, Foxy.” He whips the towel off, allowing it to drop to the floor, then his fist wraps around his cock, and I really wish it were my hand slowly stroking him as he makes his way toward me.

“Then don’t resist me, Jude.” I spread my legs, lift them up, and slowly trail a finger from the outside of my thigh inward.

“Oh, I’m not.” The deep timbre of his voice sets me off.

I strum my clit as he takes each step slower than I thought possible.

“I’m going to watch you come while I make myself come, then want you beneath me as you fall asleep.

” He sits between my spread thighs, where we both have a clear view of what the other is doing to their body.

“Yes, please.” He clasps the back of my leg and lifts it to my shoulder, inadvertently opening me up further, and we take matters into our own hands while keeping our gaze locked on one another.