Page 14 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)
What can I do? Lie? “I get that impression, yes.” What a cop-out. “I’ve made it clear to him there’s no going back for me, and he just doesn’t seem to be listening. Not even when he knew I was seeing someone.”
He looks plain horrified. I don’t suppose I can expect anything less. Jude doesn’t mix well with other men he deems a threat. “You told him you were seeing me?”
“Not exactly.” I feel myself wilting. “He saw the flowers you sent me before we ... I don’t know, before we broke up.” Did we break up? Were we even together enough to classify it a breakup? Fuck, my head.
“How did he see the flowers I sent you?”
Oh crap. I need to shut the hell up; I’m just making this worse. “Just leave it, Jude.”
“No, I won’t leave it. How did he see the flowers I sent you?”
“Because he stopped by my parents’ when I was there.”
His head slowly tilts. “Why would he stop by your parents’?”
Oh God, I don’t like the obvious tensing of his entire frame as he stands at the end of the bed, heaving a little too much. He’s holding back his anger. Or trying to. Not doing a very good job.
“My parents wanted me to try and work things out with him.” I withdraw, holding my breath, watching as Jude continues his battle not to lose his shit. I should shut up now.
“But you don’t?”
“Of course I don’t.” What kind of stupid question is that?
“You said he’s out of the picture.”
“He is.”
“But he still pops in to visit your family? Sends you flowers?”
And attends my brother’s wedding. “Jude, I can’t con—”
“Why the hell is he sending you flowers?” he barks, his handsome face twisting as he begins a dogged march around the bedroom.
I breathe out tiredly and follow his path, remaining quiet, since I seem to poke the bear harder each time I open my mouth. “Calm down.” And I say that?
“So you think it’s okay that he’s still sending you flowers?” he asks, his dark eyes landing on me with a bang. The wrong kind of bang. He’s fuming.
“Did you hear me say it’s okay?” Do not roll your eyes, Amelia. “And you think it’s okay to react like this ?”
“How the fuck do you want me to react, Amelia? You’ve just told me your ex is sending you flowers, and your parents want you to rekindle whatever the fuck it was you had with him.”
I stare at him, flummoxed. After Katherine’s performances, trying to stake a claim on Jude, he has the nerve to behave like an ape? And yet I hold my tongue because tit for tat will get us nowhere.
“He knew you were seeing someone else, and now he’s sending you flowers?”
“He doesn’t think I’m seeing you anymore.”
“What?”
“My father told him I wasn’t seeing you anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t, Jude,” I say, exasperated.
“You ordered flowers at Abbie’s with my mother, she brought them home, my father saw them, so I told them I was seeing someone, and then Nick walked in and overheard.
Then I found out that I was a bet, and surprisingly, it kind of hurt, so I was a little bit off sorts and my family noticed.
I told them things didn’t work out between us, and my dad must have told Nick at the wedding. ”
“He was at your brother’s wedding?” he practically shrieks, recoiling.
Fuck. “He was an usher.” I flop back to the bed, waiting for more eruptions. “I asked my brother to uninvite him, but he didn’t.”
“Great. So you spent a lovely romantic day with your ex while I was tearing myself apart with guilt and regret, trying to figure out how I could show you that I lo—”
“Are you actually making yourself the victim right now?” I sit up, outraged.
His lips twist, his nostrils flaring. “Does he know you left halfway through the day to fuck me in the back of my car?”
Fuck this. I get up and gather my things. “Okay, I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this bullshit.” He’s like two people, my perfect man and an absolute possessive nightmare.
“Bullshit?” he asks, laughing. “This is bullshit?”
“Yes! It’s fucking bullshit.” I ram my laptop in my bag and swing it onto my shoulder, stuffing my feet into my heels. “Like how you’ve behaved each and every time you’ve seen me talking to a man is utter bullshit.”
“Or kissing them in steam rooms.”
Laughing under my breath, I don’t bother reminding him that it was a mistake.
He’s being ridiculous. Is he ever going to let that go?
“Fuck off, Jude.” A man has never drawn such reactions from me.
I huff to myself as I storm out of the bedroom.
Well, the honeymoon period was short-lived.
And his performance is a stark reminder that Jude Harrison has some chinks in his armour. What the hell is wrong with him?
“Do I need to remind you about your reactions to Katherine?” His voice is getting louder. Of course he’s following me. And how fucking dare he!
“She comes here to have sex with you!” I yell. Fuck. Keep it together. “I’m going.” I feel like I could pop. Or slap him. He’s so fucking wonderful, and then completely unbearable. I yank the door open.
And gasp when it’s slammed shut again, my arm nearly wrenched from the socket.
I stare at his palm on the wood in front of me, his arm stretching over my shoulder.
His breathing is loud in my ear. “I’m sorry.
” The words are spat out, clearly an effort.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he repeats, this time softer. “I ... shit, I don’t know.”
I remain where I am, questioning whether to just leave anyway. I don’t like this side of him. He seems so volatile. And then I remember what his brother said. Jesus, Jude, what the hell have you got yourself into? You’re the eldest. You’re supposed to be the most stable.
Is Jude taking the pills? I feel like I should ask. I also don’t want him to think I’ve been snooping.
“I don’t like the thought of you with another man,” he goes on. “In fact, it sends me wild.”
And what can I say, really? I was feral over Katherine. I’m blaming Jude.
“Please stay,” he whispers, taking the strap of my bag on my shoulder and easing it off. I turn my eyes onto him, seeing an entirely different man to a few minutes ago. A softer man. Sheepish. Sorry.
He lowers my bag to the floor, never taking his eyes off me, and turns me by my shoulders into him. “I’m sorry.”
My body deflates from my supressed sigh. “I don’t want him back,” I say, for the sake of clarity. “I’m not particularly loving the fact that I’m hurting someone, and that’s why I didn’t want Nick to know I was seeing someone else. But then he did know. And now he doesn’t again.”
He frowns. “So Nick doesn’t know you’re back with me?”
I shake my head. “And neither do my parents. Or my brother. Only the girls. And they’re not happy.”
“You told them about the bet.”
“I didn’t have much choice, Jude.” One minute I was coming to tell him I was falling for him, the next I was a soaked, barefoot wreck on Abbie’s doorstep. “I was kind of a mess.”
Slipping his finger under my chin, he lifts my face. “I’m sorry.”
“I know Nick has to know about you eventually, but I can’t deal with that right now. I have so much going on at work.” I raise my brows. “And with you.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
Jude quickly covers my mouth with his, swallowing me up and blanking my mind. The hum that rumbles up from his belly is carnal and content. “You’re staying the night.”
“As long as you stop being a bull.”
“I will. I’m sorry. We both need to let off some steam.”
“I’m fine,” I say around his lips, hooking my arms over his shoulders, giving in to the spark that leads me back to Jude every time. “It’s you who needs to let off some steam.”
“You can help me.” He starts guiding my backwards steps to the kitchen.
“But first we fix your hand.” He lifts me onto the counter and dumps my bag next to me.
“I’ll get some antiseptic.” Going to the cupboard, he pulls down a small bag and brings it over as I start peeling the edges of the bandage again. “Sore?”
“A little,” I admit, easing back the dressing, my teeth clenched. The cut is jagged, Z-shaped, and it creeps from the side of my hand onto my palm. It’s ugly but, thank God, in a discreet place.
I hold it out to Jude and watch him closely as he concentrates on cleaning the fresh and dried blood away, dabbing carefully, checking my face for discomfort. “Okay?” he asks every so often. I nod each time, quiet. That changes when he sprays the antiseptic.
“Fuck!” I tense from top to toe, bringing my hand to my chest protectively. “Oh God, that stings.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, wincing with me. “You’ve got to keep it clean.”
“I know,” I grate, breathing through the pain until I’m ready to let him dress it again.
“How did you shower this morning without getting it wet?”
“With great difficulty,” I admit, reliving the whole awkward scene. “I tried a plastic bag over it, but I couldn’t tie it up well enough to keep the water out, so I ended up holding my hand outside the cubicle while I did everything with one hand.”
Jude chuckles, finishing up with a little extra tape. “So you know the solution to that, don’t you?”
I grin as he lifts me down. “I have to shower with you, so I have three hands.”
He peeks at the motif on my hoodie with a cocked brow. “Give me a hug that’ll lead to sex.”
I walk straight into his open arms and let him cuddle me half to death, feeling his remorse. I relax into it for a while, eventually breaking away and looking up at him. “My friends hate you,” I whisper. He definitely flinches. “I don’t want them to hate you.”
“So I need to prove myself.” He seals our mouths and walks me back to the bedroom, kissing me all the way there, releasing me only to lift the hoodie over my head.
Then he kisses me down to the mattress. “And I will.” He starts at my neck and works his way over my dress to my thighs, and I melt into the sheets on an exhale as he hitches the material up and brushes his finger across the lace of my knickers, biting at the insides of my thighs. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
He comes back up and pulls his trousers open, freeing himself.
“Get your knickers off,” he orders, prompting me to wriggle out of them as he holds himself up, getting his trousers and boxers down just enough.
One swivel and he’s inside, and we both groan at the inexplicable rightness of our bodies coming together.
His head hangs as we adjust, before he looks at me, resting on his elbows and framing my face with his hands.
He’s still and silent for a few moments before he eventually speaks quietly.
“I feel like you’ve got an arrow aimed at my heart, Amelia. ”
I breathe in my surprise. Then we’re on the same page. Except Jude has fired and hit his target already. Should I confirm that?
He retreats and advances on an exhale, our breathing heavy.
My hands stroke through his hair as he gazes down at me, his eyes green and soft.
I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for this feeling.
For him. And yet it’s happened so fast and been so tumultuous, I’m struggling to grab hold of my thoughts and make any sense of them.
How fast can love happen? What dictates it?
Chemistry, lust, banter? My heart beats harder with him. It hurts when we fight.
“What are you thinking?” he asks softly.
The words hang on the end of my tongue, but I quickly remind myself that this is still very early days, and I don’t mean since we got back together. I can’t show my hand, expose myself. “Nothing.”
Jesus Christ, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Jude is comfort but unpredictable. Patience but frustration. I want to keep him at arm’s length and be sensible, but my plan goes to shit each time, because when I look at him, something inside kicks, and I love the feeling, but fear it.
He starts grinding slowly, the intensity of his lazy eyes on me unmoving. I shake my head, unable to articulate how I’m feeling while also trying to deal with the sensations being inflicted on my body.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, throwing it back at him.
He stills for a moment, throbbing inside me, his eyes darting across my face.
“Nothing,” he whispers back. And he kisses me, rolling his hips and sending me out of my mind on Jude Harrison.
He groans and starts moving faster, firmer, kissing me to match our new pace.
“We’re fucking idiots,” he mumbles, biting my lip and pulling out, wrestling me out of my dress, then stripping himself.
He turns me onto my side, curling his body around mine, guiding himself to me.
Slipping in smoothly from behind, he slides his hand over my thigh, using it to pull me back onto him, yelling, sounding angry, and I cry out, closing my eyes, knowing soft and slow has left the building.
And more frustration has joined us.
Jude subjects me to a brutal pounding, his shouts loud, his force merciless, and I take it all, wishing I were brave enough to speak my truth.
I love him.
And to Jude’s point, am I an idiot?