Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“They’re beautiful shoes,” I murmur, so disappointed in myself. “I’m sorry.”
“And that’s why my mother would love you.”
“Because we have similar taste?”
“No, because you can hold your hands up when you’ve fucked up.” He turns a sardonic smile my way. “You thought they were Katherine’s.”
I absolutely did, and I hate myself for that too, because thinking they were Katherine’s would put her in the same class bracket as Evelyn Harrison, and Katherine is miles off Jude’s mother’s league. “I’m not liking myself much at the moment.”
“Get over it. I feel like that most days.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
Oh no, he does not get to brush that statement aside. I stop him when we reach the top of the stairs and force him to face me. “What did that mean? Why don’t you like yourself most days?”
His shoulders drop. “Because I hurt you, Amelia. And I realise I don’t deserve a second chance, but by some miraculous act of God, you, you beautiful, graceful woman, have given me one.” He hooks his forearm around my waist and hauls me up his body so our eyes are level. “I won’t fuck this up.”
“This isn’t allowed.”
“Oh, sorry.” Much to my horror, and surprise, he puts me down and backs off. What the hell is he doing? I dive at him and wrap every limb around his hard body, clinging to him, burying my face in his neck and getting a needed hit of his manly scent. “So it’s one rule for you, another for me, is it?” he asks, holding me under my arse.
I open my mouth and suck the flesh of his neck, bobbing up and down as he walks on. “It’s just a hug,” I whisper in his ear.
“Tell that to my dick.”
I chuckle, finding his face as he walks. “So you found the shoe.”
“A dog found the shoe.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, the farmer’s collie down the road dropped it off on the steps a few years ago.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know. Do you know what else is insane?”
“What?”
“I’ll show you.” I’m put on my feet when we reach the dressing room, and Jude slides another door open. “He found your shoes too.”
My jaw drops when I’m faced with the heels I wore last week and lost in the brambles. “Jude, that’s spooky.” I reach in and pluck them out. They’re spotless. It was raining, muddy. Did he have them cleaned up?
“Why were your shoes in the bushes outside Arlington Hall?” he asks.
“I lost them the night I . . .” My lips twist, not wanting to relive that hideous scene. “The night I left.”
“I didn’t notice you were barefoot when you got in the car.”
I nearly crick my neck when I look at him. “You were there?”
“I needed to make sure you were safe. It was dark out there. Remote.”
He stood there in the rain watching me? Jesus, I was crying so hard.
“It shook me, Amelia,” he says quietly. “Seeing you like that, knowing I was responsible.” He turns into me and takes my hands, being careful of the dressing as he gently feels them. “I wanted to tell you about the stupid fucking bet. I had every intention of telling you, I just didn’t know how.”
“With words.”
“I’m not very good at talking.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
An adorable, lopsided grin adorns his face, and he nuzzles my cheek. “I underestimated you, actually.”
“This isn’t allowed.”
“Oh, sorry.” He drops me and moves back, and I grin, diving into his arms and smothering him with my mouth, kissing him deep and long, and with all the adoration I feel but can’t admit to him.
“You need to furnish me with the rules of this game,” he mumbles around our swirling tongues, “because I’m getting a bit confused with all these mixed messages.”
“Poor thing.”
“Hmm.” He carries me back to the kitchen and puts me on a stool, indulging my demand for his mouth. “Are you going to let me cook for you, or am I taking you straight to bed?”
“That’s not allowed.”
He chuckles and tears his mouth from mine, gazing at me as he braces his hands on my thighs. I pout and move in, wanting more. But he dodges my attempt to get another kiss. So I try again, scowling when he moves his head to the side to avoid my lips.
“That’s not allowed, Amelia,” he whispers, pushing off my legs and stepping back, unable to hide his smug smile.
So he wants to play that game? Fuck, I’ll lose. I already know Jude’s got some superpower that enables him to walk away from me during highly charged sexual moments.
He pulls his phone out and wanders around the counter, and I look up at the ceiling speakers when Lana Del Rey starts singing softly to Riopy playing the piano. I smile, turning myself on the stool. “What are you cooking?” My thighs tense and squeeze together in an attempt to stem the pulses.