Page 35 of Secret Seduction
“Jude and Luke are the last two standing. I think we’ll have to bring our men here again,” Maci says, teasing Tysen. He places his hands on his hips, shakes his head, and smirks at her.
“I want a rematch,” Jagger states.
“Do it with your woman on your own time, man. It’s not like she doesn’t work here,” Crew guffaws.
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry about that.” Lyric wraps her arms around Jag.
“Girls officially rule!” Lennie raises her arms over her head and does a small dance.
“Told you, baby girl.” Luke comes up behind me, whispering in my ear as he pulls me into the front of his body.
“We really should do this again. I mean, everyone seemed to have fun, plus the studio can hold all of us. The only downfall is the kids aren’t here with us.” Luke’s hand slides lower until it’s resting on my lower stomach. We have news of our own to share, only not yet. It’s still really early, and, well, we’re enjoying ourselves before the cat is out of the bag.
“There’s always Lyric’s room. We can keep the door open. Briar and Sebastian can entertain themselves, and the twins are still in the eat, sleep, poop stage.”
“I’m out of here. We all know I won for the guys in our group. Luke, cheap shot seeing as how you’re here more than you are at the gym,” Jude says, tossing his hand over his shoulder and waving goodbye to everyone. Everyone else follows suit, except Luke and I. We hang back. We have some celebrating of our own to do.
I hope you enjoyed Luke and Shae’s story and will consider leaving a review.
Coming next is Feels Like Forever, Jude and Ronnie’s story is releasing September
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Prologue
Jude
One MonthEarlier
I wake up, my body catapults to a sitting position, gasps of air leave my lungs, rough and ragged. My hand clutches at my chest, trying to calm the beating of my heart. Sweat is pouring from every inch of my body, all of my senses go on high alert, and I can hear every noise in my otherwise quiet home. The only good part about waking up like this, is that I’m out of my nightmare.
For now.
You’d think almost twenty-seven years later I’d have overcome my past, except I’m haunted in my weakest hours.
When the world is dark.
When I’m the most vulnerable.
When I’m asleep.
I’m transported to the here and now, there’s no one here and there’s not one single fucking reason for my past to enter my future.
I toss the covers from my drenched body, throw my legs over the mattress, and take a deep breath. My elbows hit the tops of my thighs, head hanging down, the clenching and unclenching of my fingers help center me from spiraling to do something stupid. I leave my eyes open, trying to calmmyself down, and try to think about other shit, shit that doesn’t suck me into the vortex of my fucked up childhood.
“Get it together, man,” I run my fingers through my hair, look at the clock on the other side of my room, and seeing the time change from two-fifty-nine to three o’clock in the morning. There’s no going back to sleep, not after the nightmare I just had, one that still has me ready to crawl out of my skin.
“Cam, disable the alarm,” the software system I created is voice activated. It’s more detailed, capturing the unique tone of my voice, and I’m still ironing out the kinks before I make it available to my friends, their business fronts, or the public.
“Good morning, Jude. Alarm is deactivated,” the slightly less robotic female voice responds back through the speakers. I wince at even a piece of technology notating that it’s morning at this awful hour. The alarm chimes, a two-beat succession letting me know that a blaring horn won’t sound off and wake up the rest of my neighborhood when I open the French style patio doors.
I stand up, nab my phone from the nightstand and look to see what my notifications look like, trivial bullshit, e-mails, texts that can wait, and another alert about who’s currently online. I drop the phone back on the wood table, grab my smokes and light before walking toward the back door. A few seconds later the deadbolt is unlocked, the door is wide open, and I’m met with the stillness of the night.
The Florida humidity smacks you in the face, summer is thick in the air, and it’s not going anywhere. It’s never ending, clinging around for months on end, the rarer time it drops below fifty percent, and you’re left wondering if a coolfront moved in. Only to wake up the next day, shit goes back to normal, and you’re left thinking it was a fever dream. I walk further out on the deck, completely naked, and while my house may be in a neighborhood of sorts, similar to Asher’s minus the fact that my lot is a little over an acre. The privacy fence keeps it secluded and I’m able to use my backyard however I see fit. I drop the nasty habit near the edge of the pool. I picked up years ago and I’ve yet to kick it, probably because anytime I do the nicotine calms me down from days like these. I drop myself into the pool and I dunk my body below the surface, exhaling every last bit of oxygen, until I’m nearly to the bottom. I close my eyes for the first time since waking up and finally I’m not in a point in time that does not one bit of good. I flip to my back, slowly floating the surface. The feel of sweat is gone, and its place is chlorine. I’ve yet to convert the system to salt water, but it’s at the bottom of my list for now.
I swim until I’m near my cigarettes, my hand goes to the deck, and I use my upper body to propel myself out of pool. The only problem is I’ve made a rookie fucking mistake, “God damn it,” water spills over, ruining any chances of me having a smoke now. I stand up, bend down to snatch the ruined pack, crunching them in my hand, and abandon the idea of using the nicotine to calm my frayed edges. I walk back to my bedroom, the door is still open, letting the damn air condition out like a fucking idiot. I’m dripping wet when I move through the room, this time shutting the door behind me. I’m in and out of the bathroom without flipping on the switch, there’s no need to see the dark circles beneath my eyes at this time of day. Iwipe myself down with the towel and throw the pack of smokes in the trash, with any luck my Zippo lighter won’t be ruined.
The next order of business is shorts, swimming naked is fine, walking around my house naked, no problem. Sitting on my furniture without something on my body, not fucking happening. I open the drawer of my dresser, grab the first available pair and go through the process of slipping them on. I’m still disgruntled, more about my cigarettes than the nightmare at this point. My eyes are well adjusted to the darkness, and I navigate through the room to grab my phone, look at the bed, disgusted that I’ll have to strip the bed again for the third time this week.
