Page 43 of The Surrender
My heart doesn’t crack. It melts. “You don’t always have to make love softly and slowly.”
Jude’s eyes shine so brightly, and he hauls me into his chest, his arm hooked around my neck holding me tightly to him. I close my eyes and hear his heart beating. “I love you too,” I whisper, diving in deep. The deepest. I lift my arms to his wide back and cling to him, feeling his torso deflate.
“Say it louder,” he demands, removing me from his chest and pushing my hair back so he can see the whole of my surely red and blotchy face. “And to my face.”
I don’t hesitate. “I love you.”
His smile is small but stunning. “Thank you.” He slowly lowers to his knees on the hard concrete. “I’m in love with you, Amelia Gracie Lazenby. I’m tired of all this ambiguity between us.”
“Me too.”
“So it’s official.”
“Our love?”
“And that I now have myself a girlfriend.”
I laugh over a strained sob, and he flashes an adorable, lopsided grin. “Jude—”
“Don’t you dare put an obstacle in my way.”
“I’m not. It’s just, you’ve not even met my parents.”
“Well, that’s not true.” He stands again. “I’ve met your mother.”
It’s not my mother I’m worried about. “You hardly know the girls, and they’re not exactly your biggest fans.”
“I’ll fix that. We’ll do dinner with your friends. And meet your parents.”
Christ. That fills me with all kinds of dread. “Let’s start with my friends.” I feel a lot less anxious about that.
“Anything else?” he asks.
I shake my head, because there is nothing else. I’m going with this. We can work through the rest. I trust him. The fighting and making up are part of who we are, because our feelings are so strong.
“Good.” He swoops in and kisses me slowly and softly. The impact, though? It hits me as fast and hard as it always does, and I breathe easy for the first time since I walked away from him last night.
“I’m staying the night,” I mumble around his lips.
And he smiles.
Chapter 11
Ambient light from the blue glass shades over the bar makes the Library Bar glow beautifully, as if it could be bathed in moonlight. Jude has a quiet word in Clinton’s ear, and he nods, tossing his cocktail shaker in the air and catching it expertly.
“Give me a moment,” Jude says, putting me on a stool.
There’s an older couple in the two chairs by the fireplace, and Jude approaches, crouching, talking quietly for a few moments. The couple get up, smiling, taking their drinks and leaving. Then he wanders over to a younger couple at the end of the bar, and after a few moments, they get up and leave too. My eyes follow as they pass me, and I smile mildly, uncertain, when they smile at me.
Next, Jude goes to a couple of women sitting by the bookcases. They listen, smile too, collect their drinks, and leave. Only the man on his own in the corner remains, but after a few seconds of Jude talking to him, he nods, snaps his laptop shut, and exits the Library Bar too.
And we’re alone.
“What are you doing?” I ask when Jude comes back to me.
“Buying us some privacy.”
“We could get that in your apartment.” And, frankly, we’d get a bed too. I was certain that was where he’d take me.
