Page 29 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Iwoke up in Jude’s bed again. Propped up on a throne of pillows like a princess with my favorite blanket tucked around me.
Damn him.
Damn his lumberjack strength and gentle hands. I blamed the painkillers for sending me into a state of unconsciousness so deep I’d slept through being manhandled.
What good was being manhandled if I didn’t even remember it?
It had been a very long time since I’d had a good manhandling. And this man had been the one to do it.
I shook my head. There was no time for sexy flashbacks today. I swung my legs over the side of the mattress and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. From there, I’d brainstorm how to continue my mission despite the inconvenient setbacks.
While I’d love to hang around this cute house, playing Scrabble, snuggling with the world’s sweetest dog, and staring at Jude’s shoulders, I couldn’t afford to lose time. Especially if Razor and his crew were out there searching for me.
Getting dressed was almost impossible with the sling. But I’d be damned if I asked Jude for help again. The thought of the pity I was certain I’d see in his eyes as he touched me made me want to run screaming into the woods.
The last time I’d been here, he’d looked at me with pure lust. After we’d torn each other’s clothes off, he’d taken a step back, his eyes wide behind his thick-framed glasses, flexing his fists while he drank in the sight of my naked body spread out on his bed. I’d felt like a fucking goddess then, and again when he made every inch of me scream with pleasure.
Now? I was a skinny invalid fugitive he had to carry to bed every night. That truth was somehow more painful than any of my injuries.
Once I’d rinsed the toothpaste from my mouth, I assessed myself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises on my face had started to fade, turning a mottled yellow.
How did I end up here?
I splashed water on my face with my right hand, racking my brain for some kind of solution. I’d been so careful, with systems and procedures in place, and I’d gotten so close to the finish line. Yet I’d blown it. All that work, all that sacrifice, had been flushed down the drain. I could practically taste the justice I’d found for Hugo. And now I’d gone and fucked it all up.
I squeezed my eyes closed, fighting back the tears. I would not show Jude any more weakness. No matter how badly things hurt, I wouldn’t be that girl.
I’d managed to put on a tank top and sweats when a light knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“You need some help?”
I let out a sigh. No, I didn’t want any fucking help. But with one look at the sling that I’d shimmied off and dropped to the floor, I knew there was no way I’d get it back on myself.
I opened the door, finding a rumpled lumberjack who looked equal parts concerned and scrumptious.
Ripley pushed her head in too.
With a sigh, I nodded to the sling I’d left on the floor.
Wordlessly, he shuffled in and scooped it up. He kept his focus on his work as he eased my arm into it and slid the strap over my shoulder. When it was in place, he plucked my hairbrush from the counter and sidestepped me. While he worked, brushing my hair gently, we locked eyes in the mirror. He towered over me, his height and bulk surrounding me like a protective cocoon.
I averted my gaze, overcome with a self-consciousness that seemed to be seeping in more and more these days. I was pale and skinny and bruised. As terrible as I looked, it had nothing on how I felt. Even so, in such close proximity to him, my pulse fluttered.
God, what I’d give for the circumstances to be different. To not be so damn helpless. To stand on my own two feet, secure in my identity again, and offer myself up to this man.
He still hadn’t spoken when he leaned around me to grab the hair elastic I’d set on the counter, his arm brushing my hip.
Tingles spread through me from that point of contact, but his expression didn’t change and his movements remained easy. Carefully, he gathered my hair into a little ponytail at my nape, like he had before.
“I’ve got to head to work soon,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “But I got you something.”
He walked out, leaving me flushed and confused. Needing a moment, I pushed the door closed and leaned into it, letting my head gently thunk against the dark wood. What was it about Jude that made normal, run-of-the-mill things like what he’d just done seem so significant?
It was a ponytail. But my nervous system had turned it into so much more. In my mind, it had become a moment of intimacy. But I was alone in that feeling, clearly. And even if I weren’t, I didn’t have time for the emotions that sprang up when he was close. Not when the clock was ticking.
Eventually the smell of coffee dragged me out.
I found him standing in the kitchen, sipping from a mug, looking like a woodsy snack in a dark blue flannel shirt. It was open over a T-shirt that did nothing to hide his sculpted chest.
