Page 38 of Wicked Temptations
“He touched my arm, Jude. Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic.” Jude stepped closer, invading my space. I’ve always been a big guy, always the strongest and generally the tallest, but Jude used his height like a weapon. It made him seem larger than life and intimidating, even to me. “I’m being clear.”
“About what, exactly?” I kept my voice down but couldn’t keep the edge out of it.
Jude swallowed hard, his throat working through words I knew he’d never say.
Something inside me snapped.
I grabbed his shirt, twisting the fabric in my fist just like I had during the photoshoot. Then I moved, yanking him along behind me toward the back of the bar. He stumbled, caught off guard foronce, but didn’t resist as I shouldered past the crowd and shoved open the bathroom door.
***
The bathroom door cracked against the wall loud enough that it should’ve brought management running, but Murphy’s was too loud and the patrons too drunk to notice.
I shoved Jude into the cramped space, letting go of his shirt only when I knew he’d have to stumble to catch himself. Then I locked the door and grabbed him again.
“You don’t get to pull that possessive bullshit,” I growled, pushing him harder against the tile. “You don’t get to act like you own me.”
“Don’t I?” Jude’s breath came fast against my grip. His back was against the wall, but he wasn’t fighting me. He wasn’t even trying. “Then why’d you drag me in here, Ash? Why’d you get pissed when I scared that asshole off?”
Because I wanted him to.
The thought hit me like a fist to the gut. Some fucked-up part of me thrived on Jude’s jealousy, craved it like oxygen. It was twisted proof that whatever this was mattered to him beyond getting off in dark corners and parking lots.
“That’s what I thought.” Jude’s voice dropped lower, rougher.
“Fuck you,” I spat, but my hands were still fisted in his shirt. Still holding him against the wall when I should’ve been walking away. “You think I liked that? You chasing off guys like you have any claim?”
“You did like it.”
“I fucking hated it.”
Liar.
I hated that it wasn’t real. I hated that Jude could act possessive without actually possessing anything, that he couldscare off other guys while refusing to be mine. I wanted labels and promises and all the messy shit that terrified me. I wanted him to stop playing games and just fucking commit to whatever this chemical reaction between us was becoming.
Say it. Tell him you want more than parking lot fucks and hookups in dark places.
But admitting that? Saying it out loud?
That was how you got yourself destroyed.
My jaw clenched, and I deflected instinctively. It was easier to make him seem like the irrational one, especially when I knew it would at least get me one thing I craved. “You’re reading into things, Jude.”
“Bullshit.” Jude’s hand found my belt and tugged. “You’re practically begging me to claim you. If you didn’t want it, or you wanted that guy to fuck you, you would have stopped me.”
I hated that he was right and that my body didn’t fucking care. It betrayed me, and heat flooded through me at the challenge in Jude’s voice.
Jude’s fingers worked my buckle loose. “That’s what I thought.”
He shoved me backward, and I let him, let the momentum carry me until my spine hit the wall beside the sinks. Cold tile bit through my shirt, but then he was on me, all lean muscle and fury, his body pressed against mine and I lost all ability to care or think.
“I know you’re trying to play me,” he growled. “So, you think this is a game, huh?”
It was a good fucking question, and one I didn’t have an answer for. Not that wouldn’t rip my heart and soul open and bare too much. Iwasplaying him; even my rage was a cry for attention and a messed-up, desperate means of keeping myself in his orbit.
Instead of answering verbally, I reached out to grab his throat. Not hard enough to choke but enough to feel his pulse hammering under my palm.
