I really didn’t need to see that. Tearing my eyes from him, I pause and hold it out to him.
“I was kidding, Sunshine.” He takes it from me and puts it back on the counter. Neutral territory.
“Don’t you want it?” I manage to ask.
I see the slide of his throat as if he’s swallowing my question whole. The tension in his arms moves across his body until he’s poised to strike.
Maybe he was already as tightly wound as me, but I can’t help but squirm under his possessive stare. I ignite that ferocity. I’m the storm that unsettles the peaceful blue pools of his irises. And realizing that vanquishes my fear.
Because I’ve undone this man.
I want to say something but my mouth is empty. Before I can find words his lips find mine instead. He crashes against me, and I’m powerless against his force. He’s washing me out into the unknown and I don’t care if I drown.
My body shapes to his as his hand slides under my ass, lifting me from my feet. I coil around him, instinctively pressing the core of my want against his groin. A low growl vibrates through him and his arms bind me closer.
I want as much of him as he’ll give me. It’s the only need I’m capable of processing and I open to him, allowing his tongue to stroke across my teeth and then massage over mine. It’s an invitation and I RSVP by tangling my fingers into his hair. I grip it tightly, desperate to possess him as fully as he has me.
When he backs into the kitchen table, we both spring into action, unbuttoning and unbuckling as quickly as our impatient fingers allow. Wiggling off my jeans, I return my attention to his body. I trail my palm over the swirling black ink and then I lunge forward and sink my teeth into his skin.
“Christ, Sunshine,” he grunts, but before I can register it as a complaint, he’s pushed me flat against the table and unsnapped my bra. I move to slide it off and my wrist knocks over a box of crayons.
Our eyes lock as they scatter to the floor and before I can raise the white flag, I’m back in his arms. Jude kicks open the door leading to the garage.
“I’ll fix it later,” he promises, sweeping me out the door. Twirling me around, he barricades it with our bodies. “Hold on.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cling to him as he frees his dick. I feel its heat prod against my belly. His whiskers scratch against my cheek as his mouth slants toward my neck. “I can’t be patient,” he warns me.
“Don’t be,” I beg.
He doesn’t need coaxing. His hand slips between my thighs and shoves my panties to the side. My bare back smacks against the wood as he thrusts into me. Jude’s chest smashes against my breasts as his weight overwhelms me. I lose myself to the rhythm. To the crash and the ebb. There is only each stroke, and the glorious, violent inevitability of being abandoned and filled.
I am whole in his arms. He completes me, and this terrifying revelation overloads my nerves. The wave building inside me breaks and I shatter over him.
Jude catches me as I break and captures my lips. He anchors me, holding me firmly to him; firmly to this moment.
He kisses me as he finds his own release. Reassuring kisses. Promising kisses. Desperate kisses. I want to taste all of them. When I feel his warmth spill inside me, our mouths break apart even as we stay joined together. His breath is hot on my face as his forehead rests against mine.
I don’t speak. Instead I savor the pulse of him inside me and the sweet taste of him lingering on my tongue.
When he finally breaks the silence, it does nothing to undermine the magic. “God, I want to stay, beautiful. I want to carry you to bed and make love to you all night.”
I allow myself to imagine it: that impossible life he keeps dangling out on a string. I want to go to bed with Jude and I want to wake up to him.
“We can’t.” I don’t hide the regret from my words. It’s not a feeling I indulge often, and its bitterness settles in my heart.
“I know, but it doesn’t mean I can’t wish,” he murmurs, nuzzling against my ear. “I won’t sleep tonight without you. I’m too wired. So let me pretend for a minute that I don’t have to put you down, get dressed, and go home to an empty bed that doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore.”
“You’ve never even been in my bed,” I whisper and I can barely hear it over the pounding of my heart.
He pulls back to look me dead in the eye. “It’s where I belong, because I belong to you.”
The hammering in my chest begins to hurt and I avert my gaze.
“And in the morning, when I can’t drag my ass out of bed, you’ll change your mind,” I joke weakly. I can’t let myself turn my game of make-believe into reality.
“Don’t do that,” he stops me. “Don’t assume that I don’t know exactly what I’m asking you for, Faith. I know and I understand what it means.”