Page 32 of The Surrender
And gasp when it’s slammed shut again, my arm nearly wrenched from the socket. I stare at his palm on the wood in front of me, his arm stretching over my shoulder. His breathing is loud in my ear. “I’m sorry.” The words are spat out, clearly an effort. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he repeats, this time softer. “I ... shit, I don’t know.”
I remain where I am, questioning whether to just leave anyway. I don’t like this side of him. He seems so volatile. And then I remember what his brother said.Jesus, Jude, what the hell have you got yourself into? You’re the eldest. You’re supposed to be the most stable.
Is Jude taking the pills? I feel like I should ask. I also don’t want him to think I’ve been snooping.
“I don’t like the thought of you with another man,” he goes on. “In fact, it sends me wild.”
And what can I say, really? I was feral over Katherine. I’m blaming Jude.
“Please stay,” he whispers, taking the strap of my bag on my shoulder and easing it off. I turn my eyes onto him, seeing an entirely different man to a few minutes ago. A softer man. Sheepish.Sorry.
He lowers my bag to the floor, never taking his eyes off me, and turns me by my shoulders into him. “I’m sorry.”
My body deflates from my supressed sigh. “I don’t want him back,” I say, for the sake of clarity. “I’m not particularly loving the fact that I’m hurting someone, and that’s why I didn’t want Nick to know I was seeing someone else. But then he did know. And now he doesn’t again.”
He frowns. “So Nick doesn’t know you’re back with me?”
I shake my head. “And neither do my parents. Or my brother. Only the girls. And they’re not happy.”
“You told them about the bet.”
“I didn’t have much choice, Jude.” One minute I was coming to tell him I was falling for him, the next I was a soaked, barefoot wreck on Abbie’s doorstep. “I was kind of a mess.”
Slipping his finger under my chin, he lifts my face. “I’m sorry.”
“I know Nick has to know about you eventually, but I can’t deal with that right now. I have so much going on at work.” I raise my brows. “And with you.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
Jude quickly covers my mouth with his, swallowing me up and blanking my mind. The hum that rumbles up from his belly is carnal and content. “You’re staying the night.”
“As long as you stop being a bull.”
“I will. I’m sorry. We both need to let off some steam.”
“I’m fine,” I say around his lips, hooking my arms over his shoulders, giving in to the spark that leads me back to Jude every time. “It’s you who needs to let off some steam.”
“You can help me.” He starts guiding my backwards steps to the kitchen. “But first we fix your hand.” He lifts me onto the counter and dumps my bag next to me. “I’ll get some antiseptic.” Going to the cupboard, he pulls down a small bag and brings it over as I start peeling the edges of the bandage again. “Sore?”
“A little,” I admit, easing back the dressing, my teeth clenched. The cut is jagged, Z-shaped, and it creeps from the side of my hand onto my palm. It’s ugly but, thank God, in a discreet place.
I hold it out to Jude and watch him closely as he concentrates on cleaning the fresh and dried blood away, dabbing carefully, checking my face for discomfort. “Okay?” he asks every so often. I nod each time, quiet. That changes when he sprays the antiseptic.
“Fuck!” I tense from top to toe, bringing my hand to my chest protectively. “Oh God, that stings.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, wincing with me. “You’ve got to keep it clean.”
“I know,” I grate, breathing through the pain until I’m ready to let him dress it again.
“How did you shower this morning without getting it wet?”
“With great difficulty,” I admit, reliving the whole awkward scene. “I tried a plastic bag over it, but I couldn’t tie it up well enough to keep the water out, so I ended up holding my hand outside the cubicle while I did everything with one hand.”
Jude chuckles, finishing up with a little extra tape. “So you know the solution to that, don’t you?”
I grin as he lifts me down. “I have to shower with you, so I have three hands.”
