Page 111 of The Surrender

Exhausted, I lower my front to the wood again, my body rolling as Jude peels his fingertips from my hips, letting blood flow there. I wince.

“Sorry,” he whispers, reaching for my zip and pulling it down, exposing my back. His lips meet my nape and kiss their way down my spine. “I love you, Amelia,” he says quietly. “It’s as hard for me to deal with as it is for you.”

I don’t reply; I’m unable to muster the words.

And not because I’m out of breath.

So I reach back and slip my hand in his hair as he kisses my ear.

“Let’s go away tomorrow.”

I shake my head. I have my meeting with Tilda Spector, he knows this.

“Please,” he says, nuzzling my face. “We need some time to ourselves.”

Is he saying all these triggers will be eliminated if we leave England? “I can’t just up and leave.”

“It’s important.”

“So’s my career.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” he whispers in my ear. “Wednesday, then. I’m just asking for a few days. We can leave after your meeting.”

Something isn’t right.Judeisn’t right. Every word he roared as he fucked me in ownership is circling my mind on a loop.

My unease is rapidly growing.

And the question remains: What was Nick going to say before Jude hauled me out of that pub?

He’s not . . .

What?

And why the urgency to get me out of the country?

Chapter 22

He’s asleep, on his back, but his head on the pillow is facing my way, giving me the wonderful view of his peaceful beauty. Except I sense the turmoil inside him. Feel it in myself. The uncertainty is messing with my head. My emotions feel like a yo-yo, up and down, high and low. He’s euphoric. He’s disastrous. I’m so torn, unsure if I can sustain the force of Jude’s swinging moods.

Slipping out of bed quietly, I pull on his shirt and pad on bare feet to the lounge to find my bag, expecting to see endless missed calls from Nick. There are none. It only fuels the mayhem inside. Increases the questions.

In despair, I call the girls, tucking myself in the corner of the couch. “Hey,” I say quietly when they both answer, Abbie on her sofa, Charley in darkness.

“I’m in bed,” Charley whispers. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I admit, trying so hard to stop my voice from cracking. “Nick was at the pub Jude and I ate at this evening.”

“Oh no,” Abbie breathes.

“He turned up at my office today too. He’s applied for a job at the company.”

“What the fuck?”

“He knew what pub I was in because he got into my phone and shared my location.”

“Wait.” A load of rustles and knocks come from Charley before a light pops on. She’s in her kitchen now, her wild hair wilder. “Are you serious?”

I nod. “Jude completely lost his shit.”