Page 15 of The Surrender (Arlington Hall #2)

The flesh around his nipple puckers as I circle it with my fingertip, my head in utter chaos despite my body feeling sated and calm.

Jude hasn’t murmured another word since he bellowed a few curses on his release, digging his fingers into my arse after he got me on my hands and knees and hammered into me to finish us both off.

I look up at him from where I’m sprawled across his chest, seeing his eyes closed. My mind races some more. It feels like there’s something hanging between us, something awkward.

I’m worried we’re not aligned to what that something is.

I love him and I don’t know if I should.

And, worse, I’m worried Jude hasn’t entertained that possibility.

The possibility to love. Loving being inside someone isn’t the same as loving someone.

Missing them isn’t the same as loving them.

My head starts to ache with the weight of my thoughts as I gently peel my body off his and get out of bed, padding on bare feet to the bathroom.

I use the toilet, my eyes fixed on the cupboard as I pee.

I hate myself for it, but as soon as I’m done, I find the box and check.

I don’t know what to think when I see no more pills are missing.

I put them back and rest my arse on the edge of the tub, my mind spinning.

The answer for his erratic moods could be in that box.

Allowing myself to conclude his irrationality and possessiveness are simply Jude being Jude isn’t something I want to do.

Or could the answer to his quirks be something else?

I bite my lip, remembering his face when I told him I was falling for him.

He looked shocked. No, he looked worried.

We’re both idiots.

Am I wrong? Has he entertained the possibility?

I bury my face in my palms, my overthinking head hurting some more.

God damn it. I have to talk to him. I feel like I’m going insane, wondering if I’m wasting my time and love on a man who is incapable of feeling the same.

Wondering if he’s a man who thrives on the chemistry, but that’s all it is. Good sex.

Possessive.

“Fuck,” I whisper. He’s so possessive. Is that what I want?

A man who flies off the handle if another man so much as enters a five-mile radius of me?

A man who sees me as a possession? A domineering, arguably volatile man who could have me walking on eggshells around him?

Supressing myself? Being wary of every move I make?

Jude’s words to his brother come back to me, and I once again wonder what he was talking about.

Well, I feel fucked, to be honest.

The bet? It would make sense, but I just feel like there’s more to it. He feels fucked.

“You and me both,” I whisper. Ask him about the pills? Don’t? Stick around to be hurt? Don’t? Go back to my original plan of focusing on work and wine for a while? Don’t? But the universe is telling me this is the one. Flaws and clashes aside, he’s the one.

The pressure of my nonstop racing thoughts makes my head feel like it could explode.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and on a sigh weighed down with hopelessness, I pull my hair into a ponytail.

I need to talk to him. Have it out. Tell him how I really feel about him and see where that takes us.

If he withdraws, my questions are answered.

I’m wasting my time. So much for taking it slowly.

I head back into the bedroom.

And jar to a shocked halt on the threshold. “What the hell?” I blurt.

Jude catapults up in bed, startled, his sleepy eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to figure out what’s wrong with me. “Katherine?” He grabs a pillow and pulls it over his groin. His move reminds me that I’m standing here completely naked.

“Is this a joke?” I spot one of Jude’s T-shirts hanging over the back of a chair and quickly get into it.

“What the fuck?” Jude gets off the bed, pillow in place.

“Oh, she’s here,” Katherine says, casual.

My mouth falls open and Jude winces. “Get out, Katherine.”

“I’ll come back when she’s gone.” She turns and struts out, and my mouth falls open a little bit more. I can’t believe this. She’s still here, still sniffing around and spitting her venom.

“Isn’t it about time you told her we were a thing?” she calls over her shoulder.

“What?” I gasp, looking at Jude to tell me she’s talking out of her arse. A thing? What’s a thing ?

“It’s complicated,” Jude says, cursing and throwing the pillow down on the bed.

“Complicated how?”

He supresses a sigh. Oh, he’s exasperated? “We have a history.” His reluctance is clear. It’s also worrying me, and my withdrawal spells that out.

“A history?”

“We were together.”

I blink.

“Many years ago.” It’s him withdrawing now, backing away, putting space between us.

“She’s your ex?” I ask, my voice high. Jude deflates, his eyes dropping. “Oh my God.”

“I wanted to tell you myself, but, well”—he laughs under his breath—“Katherine fixed that.”

“Oh, like you were going to tell me about the bet?”

His face is a landscape of impassiveness. “Yes.”

“You said there was nothing significant to share when I asked you about your previous relationships.” After I told him about Nick on our first date . Nick, who I wasn’t still fucking. I can’t believe this.

Tearing his T-shirt off, I go to my dress on the floor by the bed and snatch it up, starting to fight my way into it.

Jude tenses as a result, looking like he’s getting ready to stop me from walking out.

“You have the audacity to make a fuss over some poxy flowers, and you’re fucking your ex? Who, by the way, is fucking married!”

“It’s fucked up, I know. And I was fucking her, Amelia. Was. ”

I wrestle with the zip on the back of my dress, struggling with my stupid, lame hand.

“Fuck!” Getting involved with a man quick off the heels of a breakup has already made a mockery of my plan.

But getting myself caught up in a love triangle would be monumentally foolish.

This was old news. Katherine was old news.

But she’s just made it very much new news, and somehow now it all feels so much more serious. She’s his ex? Which means he has loved.

Incensed, and feeling so fucking stupid, especially after my tidal wave of thoughts in the bathroom, I leave my dress hanging open. “You’re just one big bag of surprises, aren’t you?”

Jude huffs a breath of unamused laughter. “You’re the biggest surprise in this situation, Amelia, believe me.” He grabs some boxers and yanks them on. “I’ve told you before, I’m fucked up. Leave. Save yourself.”

Save myself? Too fucking late! “You should have told me. I should have known who she was so I could manage how I deal with the situation.”

He keeps his eyes on me as he pulls his trousers up and his shirt on. “You managed just fine when you were trying to claw her eyes out a few weeks ago.”

Is he going to continue with the proverbial slaps? “I think we’re done.”

“We are so far from done.” He looks at the ceiling, exasperated, and I freeze, not liking his persona. “We were engaged.”

My jaw goes lax, my eyes like saucers. Engaged?

“Briefly,” he adds, as if that takes the sting out of this new bombshell. “Before I ended things.” He blows his cheeks out, starting to pace up and down, fidgety. “I called it off, she met Rob, and that was that.”

“That was that?” I ask in disbelief. “You still fuck her!”

“Not since I met you!”

“Oh, how admirable of you.” Emotion is sneaking up on me, my voice becoming wobbly, my throat tight. What the hell have I got myself into? And how many times will I ask myself that stupid fucking question before I, in Jude’s words, save myself?

I pull the hoodie on to cover the gaping back of my dress and collect my things.

“You’re leaving,” he says on a sigh. “Of course you are.”

I turn and face him, resolute. “I’m taking your advice and saving myself.” I walk out, knowing he’s following me but keeping his distance. He was engaged to be married? Somehow, stupidly, that hurts way more than knowing he fucked her.

He must have loved her. The sting is real. I’ve never loved anyone like I love Jude, and I currently hate that. Hate it.

I sniff and roughly wipe at my face, and when I reach the lobby, Katherine is in the doorway to the bar, a gin glass in her hand. A smug smile on her face. And here I am, a mess.

I don’t have the energy for her, and what would be the point anyway? She keeps firing her bullets, and they keep fucking hitting.

“Amelia,” Jude calls after me, surprisingly calmly.

I step outside and feel untold relief when I see Humphrey beside one of the cars.

“Can you take me back to London, Humphrey?” I ask, seeing him look past me.

I peek over my shoulder and find Jude outside the doors.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, studying me, his jaw twitching with how tense it is.

He eventually tears his eyes away from me. “Take her,” he says.

And then he turns and walks back into Arlington Hall.

And I feel like all my limbs have been cut off.