I couldn’t have a relationship with Jude. At least not one that was steady or unguarded. I told myself I’d be fine with one night, but feeling his lips and seeing his eyes and hearing his voice when he came . . . goddamn. I was already in deep with him and I needed to extract myself and go home.
I attempted to squirm my way out of his arms but he tightened his hold.
“Are you trying to leave me, Cory Easton?”
“We fell asleep and it’s late.”
“You’re right,” he murmured. “But it feels too good to move. Your bike is in my garage and I’ve armed the security system.”
“You have a security system on a rental?” I said, realizing that his situation was bigger than a damn alarm. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
I heard his soft chuckle and wished I could listen to it indefinitely.
“Not sure I’ll ever get the smell of you off of me,” I mumbled and snuggled further into his warmth. “Not sure I want to, either.”
“I knew one night with you would never feel like enough.” He reached down and kissed my throat. “If I could have one wish right now . . .”
“What would it be?” It was dark and I couldn’t even make out his expression but I could hear the tremble in his voice. The neediness.
“To be able to live out in the open . . . and try this, whatever this is, with you.”
My breath hitched and I turned to him, kissing his shoulder and his neck. “Me, too.”
As the light of dawn trickled through the window I said, “I need to let out my dogs and feed them.”
His arms stiffened and then he sighed. “They’ll be happy to see you.”
“Jude?” I said, knowing in the back of my brain what his real name was but tucking it in the safe pocket of my soul. I’d keep it there forever.
“You’re gearing up to ask me something,” he said. “So out with it.”
“The way you are with Chopper, it’s like . . .”
“You’re right. When we first moved to the States we had a dog.” There was a smile in his voice. “She somewhat resembled Chopper and was such a good girl. Mum had named her Queenie.”
“What happened to her?”
“Mum said she was run over by a car.” I felt him brace himself at the memory. “But I knew better.”
I raised my head. “What do you mean?”
“Elias had wanted me to do something for him that week and I refused,” he said. “I was like his little errand boy.”
“Fuck,” I said, as a bit more of his history fell into place.
“Mum and I tried to get out, to get away from that life,” he said. “But he wasn’t having it. She was just another possession to him.”
I couldn’t swallow past the boulder firmly lodged in my throat.
“The night he killed her was the last night I saw that bastard,” he said. “I knew he’d probably kill me, too, but I also knew I’d never do anything for him again.”
“I’m sorry,” I finally croaked out.
“Do you understand, Cory?” he said suddenly, his voice raised, his stiff muscles unyielding.
He grabbed my cheeks as he ground down on his jaw. “I need for you to understand.”
“I . . . y . . . yes.” I was at a loss for words as my mind fumbled through exactly what he was trying to tell me.
“No matter what happens, he will never hurt me again. Not like that,” he muttered. “I’d kill him first. Or kill myself trying.”
“Jude no,” I choked out, and then I captured his mouth in a reckless and desolate kiss. Because the only thing that was worse than not being able to be with him would be to know he was no longer on this earth.
When I pulled away, he held on to my face, our foreheads leaning together.
“Cory,” he said. “I wish with all my might that you could be mine.”
“I already am,” I whispered.
His lips crashed down as he pressed me solidly to the bed. His mouth was hot as a furnace and his kisses bruised. He nibbled his way down my body, where he proceeded to take me in his mouth and all the way back to his throat.
I whimpered and thrashed while he licked and sucked me into submission, giving me another mind-bending blow job.
After he swallowed every last drop, I lay practically lifeless, unable to move my limbs. He rested his head on my chest and then settled back into the warmth of the sheets.
“I’m yours, too, Cory Easton,” he whispered, before we drifted off again.
***
A couple of hours later, I arose from bed, needing to get to my dogs.
“I wanted to talk to you about Chopper,” he mumbled from the bed.
“What about him?” I asked, pulling on my jeans.
“I’d like to . . . I don’t know . . .” he said, opening one eye. “I haven’t had anything of my own in a long while.”
“What are you trying to say?” I said, sliding my shirt over my head.
“I want . . . how about if Chopper stays with me for a while?” he asked in a tentative voice. “That’ll free you up to adopt Patch.”
“I’m not grasping this,” I said, my pulse unsteady. “How can you—does this mean you plan on sticking around?”
It was the one question always in the back of my mind. He’d been on the run so much; what would make him stay in this town?