…
Something was different about Jude tonight. He took his time, drawing every kiss, every caress out until every inch of her skin flushed hot and every breath came out as a sigh or a moan. This wasn’t the fast, hard, bed-rocking sex she’d had with him in the past, but something else entirely. Something gentle and pure and genuine.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was making love to her.
With a sigh, she opened herself to him, taking him deep into her body—and, she feared, her heart. But she wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t let herself feel anything but the pleasure of this moment. She shut her eyes, focused only on the sensations of their joining, but he stopped moving, and his fingers trailed along her cheek. He cupped a hand around the back of her neck and lifted her toward him, his lips sealing over hers with such possessiveness that her eyes popped open in surprise. He stared right back at her, every wild, passionate, insane emotion she was trying so hard not to feel reflected in his gaze.
Heart in her throat, she tightened her legs around his hips and pushed herself up with her arms. He relented easily, laying back and letting her take control. His hands slid upward from her waist, released the clasp of her bra, and skimmed the straps off her shoulders. He traced the fullness of each breast as the bra fell away, then smoothed his fingers down her arms until they found her hands. He pressed their palms together, his fingers twice as big and deeply tanned, hers smaller and only a few sun-kissed shades lighter. Smiling slightly, he twined their fingers together. Somehow, that tender joining was even more intimate than the one at their hips, and emotion thickened in her throat.
Did she dare take the risk of loving him again?
Really, did she even have a choice?
She wouldn’t think about it. Not tonight. She’d just feel. Enjoy. And pretend he didn’t already hold her still-fragile heart in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jude half woke to the sound of his phone bzz-bzz-bzzing on the nightstand and slapped at it to shut it up. It stopped. Satisfied, he rolled toward Libby and nuzzled the back of her neck. She gave a contented sigh, but otherwise didn’t stir.
They’d wiped each other out last night, making love until he barely had enough energy left to drag the blankets off the floor and cover them before sleep overtook him. He, for one, was one hundred thousand percent okay with that. He wasn’t hearing any complaints from her, either, and he thought he might even be ready to do it all over again.
Make love.
That was exactly what they had done last night. It transcended sex and had proved more satisfying—and more exhausting—than anything else he’d ever experienced in a bed. His cock couldn’t wait for more and stood at rigid attention, prodding at the cleft of Libby’s lovely ass, ready for action as a good soldier should be. But the rest of his body was so not on board, still too physically exhausted to act on the urge. Another hour of zzzs, he told his lower half, and then all bets were off because he definitely needed to be making love to Libby again soon.
He nuzzled his face in the long silk of her unbound hair, inhaled her scent, and drifted toward sleep with a smile—until the phone started ringing again.
“Goddammit.” He reached for it and rubbed his eyes before checking the screen. Camden. Grumbling, he answered. “Someone had better be dead.”
“Someone is,” Camden said, and he sounded exhausted. “K-Bar.”
Jude blinked, his mind running sluggishly, still fuzzy with sleep, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “Wait, what?”
“He’s dead. As in he’s no longer living. Decapitated and hacked into pieces dead.”
“Okay, okay, I got it.” Wide awake now, Jude glanced over at Libby and told himself to man up as a heaviness centered in his chest. It was over. All of it, including their affair. Goddammit. “Hey, that’s great news.”
“Not even close,” Cam said. “He’s been dead a while. At least a week, probably ever since he went missing. There’s no way he could have flown to Key West and followed you two.”
Slowly, so as not to wake Libby, Jude slid his arm out from underneath her and sat up on the edge of the bed. He kept his voice low. “What happened?”
“Kenneth Burke killed him.”
“GQ? Pruitt’s lawyer? What makes you think that?”
“The blue car that almost ran you and Libby over? The pregnant woman it was stolen from lives in the apartment complex behind Burke’s condo.”