Heroic measures, p.19
Heroic Measures, page 19
I’m just done. Done avoiding her. Done keeping distance. Done not giving into base needs even though I know it’s all I’ll ever get from her.
I deepen the kiss, my fingers tangling in her hair as I angle her head to the perfect position. I grip her ass, my fingers clenching the silk of her bridesmaid dress soft against my palm.
Her fingers tug up the hem of my t-shirt, trailing down my quivering abdomen in search of the zipper on my jeans. I release her, taking a step back and watch her shaking hands work. I don’t know if they tremble because she’s still scared or eager to get me naked, but I don’t stop long enough to ask. I rip my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor as the rasp of my zipper fills the heated air around us.
I kick off my shoes just in time for her to shove my jeans down, and those disappear along with my boxers. I’m left standing in the middle of her apartment completely naked with her breathing heavily in front of me still in her dress from the wedding. Her own breathing has changed as well, her breasts swelling and falling with each inhale, and watching her for a few minutes is all the restraint I can manage.
I rip at her dress, snapping the thin straps at her shoulders before tearing the bodice down the middle. It’s an absolute disparity of how she makes me feel, split right down the middle, a constant battle in my head where she’s concerned, the imbalance now leaning toward making the wrong decision in this moment.
“So fucking pretty,” I say as my finger trails over her naked breast, teasing at the furled nipple. She gasps, leaning into my touch, and another war wages inside of me. Do I make love to her like I’ve been longing to do, or do I punish her for breaking my fucking heart?
When I lift her and carry her to her bedroom, I still haven’t made up my mind.
When I lie her back on her sheets, watching her gorgeous blonde hair fan out like a halo around her head, I’m still struggling with the choice.
She looks like an angel, but I know better. She’s the devil, a little minx batting me around like a mouse she hasn’t put out of its misery yet.
I know where I land in her life, and I know nothing of us exists outside of this bedroom. Not that she’s all that I see or all that I want, but that sex is all it ever was and all it will ever be.
“Condom?” I ask because I’m torn between making the right decision, not a stupid one.
She points to her bedside table, and I hate that she even has rubbers in there. I don’t let my mind wander. I refuse to think about the men she’s possibly had in the bed since I was here last, and the men that came before me.
I’m here. Me. This is my night, not anyone else’s.
“Don’t,” I tell her when she lifts her hips to slide her panties down her thin thighs. Just like the last time we were together; I don’t want to see all of her if I can’t get all of her.
She doesn’t listen. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she sheds the lace, and I make quick work of the condom.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, as I cover her with my body.
I clench my eyes closed, hating that she has the ability to make me want to press my mouth to hers and spit fire at the same damn time.
“Are you wet?” I ask as I reach down to find out for myself.
I bite my lower lip to keep from groaning when I find her as slick as I always do.
I should engage in foreplay, make her come on my tongue before entering her, but I don’t. I can’t give that much of myself to her ever again. It hurts too much.
I line up and press forward, loving the feel of her fingers digging into my shoulders.
And like magic, I forget everything.
I forget that we’re not together.
I forget her telling me she just wants sex.
I forget the sound of my door closing the last time she left.
I forget to breathe.
All that exists is her and me and the perfect moment when I press all the way inside and she whimpers like I’m the only one who has ever been there.
“Jude,” she pants. “God.”
I grip her, hands under her back and clamped on her shoulders. It draws us close together, my pelvis scraping against her clit with every thrust, and it’s utter perfection, complete serenity. I’ll never have anything better.
The only sounds we make are grunts and groans, whimpers and moans. It’s utterly perfect. Better than I remember. Something I’ll never be able to forget.
I hold off, sliding into shear perfection over and over and over. My muscles tense when she starts to beg, but I continue to hold off, watching her face as her eyes widen, knowing that she’s so fucking close.
I resituate, cupping her jaw when she tries to look away, forcing her to look me in the eye, needing to see her crest and fall, but she’s the one with the winning hand, closing her eyes to block me out when she comes.
I said it before. I believed it when the words left my mouth, but it isn’t until this very moment, the second before my nuts tighten with impending orgasm that I know it for sure.
This is the last time.
I breathe her in once again, pressing my lips to her damp neck when my release washes over me, and somehow, it’s absolute perfection, the letting go.
Chapter 34
Parker
I’ve never felt a greater sense of loss than waking up this morning alone.
It leaves me acutely livid.
Not at Jude. The man could only be pushed so far before I finally broke him.
I’m mad at myself.
Angry I didn’t speak up last night. I chickened out, wanted to tell him with my body how I felt because words were just too hard. I don’t know if he read me wrong or just didn’t care, but the result is the same. I’m alone.
As I climb out of bed and step into the shower, that anger morphs into rage, and this time I’m not internalizing.
Why didn’t he stick around? Why didn’t he fight for me?
Am I so easy to walk away from?
Last night I told him to leave me alone when really, I just wanted him to grip the back of my neck and tell me there was no chance at getting rid of him. I wanted him to claim me and make me his, but he didn’t chase after me, didn’t spin around in front of everyone and press his mouth to mine. He stayed in the far corner chatting with friends until Deacon’s wife went into labor.
Even after Weston was dragged away in cuffs and he showed up, he didn’t go all alpha male and demand I stick to his side for the rest of his life. No, he fucked me and left before the sun came up.
I should feel used, but I can’t let that emotion sink in with all the rage flowing through my veins.
My shower is quick, the cold water feeling like it’s scorching my skin. I don’t even bother to blow-dry my hair, instead coiling it up on the top of my head in a mess.
The drive to his apartment is spent with a million words running through my mind, all the names I’m going to call him, all the accusations I’m going to leave at his feet.
But when I knock on his door, he doesn’t answer, and I don’t think it’s like the other times I’ve shown up and can feel him nearby. He’s not ignoring me. He’s just not home. That leaves one other place I know to look for him and as I ride the elevator down and climb back into my car, I try to talk myself out of going to his office. Personal drama at work is horrible. Answering questions and getting stared at while someone goes a little crazy has never been a situation I wanted to be in, much less one I wanted to instigate.
But I can’t not confront him. I can’t let him get away with walking out of my apartment last night without saying a word. He took a part of me last night. If I’m being completely honest with myself, he’s been chipping away pieces of me for months.
The thing that slaps me in the face as I park in the garage beneath his office building is that I don’t want them back. I just want him to take what I’ve given him and treasure those tiny, fucked-up pieces. I want them to be valued. I want them to be stored for safekeeping until I’m able to give him a bigger piece, until he owns every part of me.
But he snuck out, stole those pieces, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tossed them into the dumpster before even climbing into his truck. Why would he value them or hold them dear? I haven’t really valued myself and it’s a little hypocritical to expect that of him.
My anger is damn near bubbling over when I step off the elevator into the office. Thankfully, Pam isn’t at the front desk. She was so nice to me the last time I was here, and I don’t want to disrespect her.
The breakroom is full when I walk in, my eyes searching over every face there until they land on my target.
“Parker!” Brooks says with a wide smile on his face before I can open my mouth and spit venom at Jude. He rushes to greet me, but the look on my face makes him take pause.
He holds his hands up by his ears and backs away as if I’m armed with more than just a sharp tongue and raging attitude.
I knew the first time I met him he was the type of man I would normally go after. He’s handsome and charming. He’s got that arrogance to him that says he’d be an amazing time in bed. I also know I wouldn’t be here right now if it had been me and him. He wouldn’t have been able to sink inside of me so deep that I get confused every time I blink my eyes.
He’s nothing like the man standing from the couch with confusion putting wrinkles between his brows. Jude swallows as he looks at me, and I don’t know if it’s guilt or what in his face, but this isn’t the time to worry about it. I came here to say a few things, and even the group of men sitting around staring at me like they bought tickets to this show months ago and are glad the day has finally arrived won’t make me back down. I won’t tuck my tail between my legs and leave. Hell, I won’t even give Jude the satisfaction of asking if there is somewhere we can chat privately.
I’m flayed open, and if I even take a moment to breathe, to focus my thoughts, I may change my mind.
Jude’s cheeks turn pink as he approaches. “Are you here to speak with Deacon?”
I scoff.
Are you kidding me?
Those are the first words that come to his mind? I take a step back, actually paying attention to what’s happening right in front of my face, and it makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
Are you ashamed of me?
I want you to acknowledge me in front of our friends instead of acting as if I don’t exist.
Those were the words he said last night, and I ignored them. He was vulnerable, and in the moment, all I could think about was myself. I’m the asshole here, not him.
I’ve been the one creating distance, making him feel unvalued. His actions are just the consequences of my own.
I see it in his eyes, the pain, the need, the demand for validation, and it makes every ounce of rage in my body fade away.
“Parker?”
“I missed you this morning,” I tell him, making sure my voice isn’t a whisper. I’m not screaming it or putting on a show, but I need him to know I heard him last night.
I press my palm to his chest when he gets close enough to touch, and I want to weep at the stuttering breath he takes at my admission.
My fingers curl, gripping the front of his shirt, but he doesn’t resist when I tug. In a blink, his body is against mine, head pointed down as he scans my face for understanding.
You could hear a pin drop in the room when I stand on the tips of my toes and press my mouth to his. A gasp rushes through his nose, and like I prayed he’d do, his arms circle my waist, pulling my body flush against his. His tongue slips past my lips, and I’m fucking lost to him. I know with this one kiss that he does value the pieces he stole from me while I wasn’t looking. He does care. His show of apathy was just that, a show.
His huge hand cups my jaw when I pull back licking my lips. His eyes focus there for a long moment, and I can feel his response to me against my belly.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bi—”
He kisses me again, one hand still on my face, the other low on my back, dangerously close to my ass.
What started as a way for me to get things off my chest has turned into some form of forgiveness, but it’s quickly going to turn pornographic with an audience if we don’t pump the brakes.
“Jude,” I moan against his mouth. “I—”
He shuts me up with another kiss, refusing to stop even when a throat clears behind him. I know my cheeks have got to be flaming red, but the man is relentless, and I’ve denied him so much in the past, there’s no way I can be the one to pull away right now.
“Grab her pussy!”
My eyes widen, even though my mouth is pressed hard against his. Jude takes mercy on me, pulling his head back and brushing his thumb over my bottom lip.
“I’ve missed you.” He whispers the words back to me.
I blink up at him, the threat of tears soon to become a real issue for me, and that’s where I draw the line. I can kiss this man in front of the world but crying in front of his friends isn’t something I can manage.
“Can we find—”
“My dick is hard!”
I gasp.
“Come to Daddy, baby girl. I’ll show you what a real man can do.” The squawk forces me to look around him, but instead of a bird, all I find are a handful of guys staring at us like they can’t believe their eyes.
“That’s Puff Daddy,” Jude explains, his finger pointing to a grey bird across the room. When my eyes find it, the thing is crouched low and vibrating.
The thing starts making kissing noises, but all the guys in the room seem more entertained watching us than the obscene things the bird is saying.
“Is he—”
“Masturbating? Yes,” Jude confirms. “Let’s go to my office. You guys get back to work.”
Laughter follows us down the hallway.
“Get that disgusting bird out of here,” someone snaps.
“Masturbation is common for many species, asshole,” some other guy hisses before Jude opens the door to a room that looks more like a doctor’s office than a business office.
Chapter 35
Jude
Parker’s lips are back on mine the second the door closes, and fuck me if I’m strong enough to take a step back and evaluate the situation. I give as good as I’m getting from her, my hands having a mind of their own. I want to cling to her, touch her everywhere. I want to live in this moment even though I know it can’t last.
She showed up pissed. It was clear in her eyes when she walked into the room, but something happened. Something changed to make her change her mind. I’m not saying I’m upset even though I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do when she leaves.
“Stop,” I manage when her hands start fumbling for the zipper of my jeans.
“Last night, I was scared,” she whispers.
I cup her cheek and make her look up into my eyes. “I know. What happened with Lewis was—”
“That was terrifying,” she interrupts. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’ve been scared to tell you how I feel. I’m scared of what I feel, honestly, and each time I garnered the courage you wouldn’t answer the door.”
“Parker—”
“No, please let me get this out while I can. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, things I never wanted to feel, and I can admit that it makes me want to run. Even standing here with you this close with the taste of your mouth on mine, I want to run. I never wanted to fall—I never wanted to feel this way about anyone. Feelings get people hurt. Feelings are complicated and painful, and until recently, I thought they were just stupid.” She chuckles, a self-deprecating sound I hate coming from her pretty mouth. “My mother was obsessed with a man who didn’t care for her, who only used her. She was a slave to those emotions, and I never wanted anything to do with them. They ruined her. I didn’t want to be ruined, Jude.”
A sob escapes her throat, and as much as I want to pull her against my chest and tell her everything is going to be okay; I wipe away her tears, urging her to go on. I know she has to get all of this out. Even if I’m not going to like the outcome, I know it needs to be said.
“I texted you. I came by your house because I wanted you to understand.”
“You wanted what I had to offer, and I know you weren’t looking for my heart, Parker. I can’t take anything less. It hurts me too much.”
Her red-rimmed eyes search mine, but I don’t see the resolution there that I expect.
“That’s not all I want from you, Jude. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know what it feels like to be hurt, because I felt that way when I woke up alone this morning when all I wanted was—”
“Sex,” I finish for her. “You wanted me to fuck you before I left.”
She growls, literally growls at me before pulling away and running her hands over the messy bun on the top of her head.
“You can’t possibly be this stubborn, Jude. That’s not what I’m saying at all!”
“So, what?” It’s my turn to scrape my hands over my head. “You showed up today and kissed me in front of my friends, and now you’re going to tell me it’s all a bad idea. You regret—”
“Shut up!”
My jaw slams closed, and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a knock on the door soon from one of the guys wanting to know what the hell is going on in here.
I cross my arms over my chest. I’ve gone from ecstatic at seeing her here today to wondering if ever meeting her in the first place was a good thing. I’m so knotted up over this woman.
“I knew better,” I mutter. “I knew I shouldn’t have let my heart get involved. I get that it was just physical for you, but that just isn’t going to cut it for me any longer.”
“Because I’m your first,” she says, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m sure that’s going to change for you. Opening my heart up to a man would be hard enough, but doing it knowing it’s not going to end well would be stupid.”
I can’t stop the hurt laugh that bubbles out of my throat. “Are you really questioning how I feel about you? Blaming the fact that I was a virgin?”
“What else then?”
