Jude
“Jude! You have a puppy!” Rachel drops to her knees and discards her bags without care the second we step inside my condo. Walter trots right into her open arms.Lucky bastard.She scratches and pets the pint-sized Chihuahua, then scoops him up as she stands.
“Careful,” I grumble, hardly able to contain my jealously. “He’s an old man.” Fuck. What’s wrong with me? Is this what I’ve become? Resentful over my damn dog. The bastard nuzzles into her chest, right between her glorious breasts, his sneaking little licks causing her to giggle. I want to stick my face there as well. Only, if I’m ever given the opportunity, it won’t be to make her laugh.
Yep.I’m officially bitter.
“You had a puppy this entire time?” Rachel finally glances up from Walter. Her smile is open, unfiltered, and playful. “You could’ve had me in your apartment sooner.”
“Oh?” Her smile is contagious and I can’t help but flirt a little. “I’ll remember that. And it’s a luxury condominium. I own the entire floor.”
“That doesn’t impress me. Now this—” she crinkles her nose, bringing my dog up to lick her face. “This little guy is the most impressive thing about you.”
“Has a thing for ancient men. Got it.” I make a check through the air on an imaginary list.
She attempts a glare, but it’s spoiled by her smile. “He’s practically a puppy.”
“Walter is almost ten. Or maybe twelve.”
“You don’t remember how old your dog is?” She actually appears offended.
I don’t know why I care so much about what she thinks, but I find myself explaining anyway. “The pet rescue guessed, but really, he could be even older. Someone found him in a dumpster near Santa Monica, and he wasn’t chipped so we have no clue.” I drop my gaze to focus on Walter, because this is a piece of my life I don’t share with anyone. I should probably shut up before she suspects I’ve got a soft spot, but something in Rachel’s faint smile propels me to say it anyway. “I don’t know when you were born, right, buddy?” I reach out to scratch behind his ear, just the way he loves. I lift my gaze to Rachel’s. “So I celebrate his adoption day instead. Five years next month.”
Rachel stills. She doesn’t make a move to set Walter back on the floor, and like a coward I’m too nervous to hold her gaze. I drop mine as if stroking my dog’s fur takes all my concentration. I don’t know why I care so much about what this woman thinks of me. Why it even matters. I’m usually aHere I am, take it or leave itkinda guy, but with her . . . I want her to like me. I want her to see more than what I show everyone else. I want her to like what she sees. It’s unnerving.
Finally, I man up and lift my stare to hers. Sparks. Fireworks. A fucking grand finale. Like a charge in a wire connected for the first time, my heart bursts with the energy.
Does she feel it too?
Should I kiss her? God, I want to. Taste her. Press my mouth to hers. It’s her lips, lush and plump and currently painted in a shade of ruby red, that encourage a barrage of illicit ideas to rush my mind. They’re full of fire, like her spirit. They’re soft too, like her curves. And fuck if I don’t crave them on me, all over my body, wrapped around my cock. I can’t look away.
“Um, I—” She steps back and breaks the bond between us. She crouches and sets Walter down. He wanders away, looking as stunned as I feel. “Room.” She clears her throat and walks back over to retrieve the bags she ditched earlier. “Where’s my room?”
“Right.” I clear my throat, and subsequently adjust myself to hide my semi. “This way.”
The click of her heeled boots and the tap of Walter’s nails as they click across the marble flooring are my only indication she is in fact following me. I don’t dare look back. The thread of self-control I yield wavers in a way that makes me feel reckless and foolish all at once. Much like a hormonal teenager, and I can’t decide whether I hate or love the control she has over me.
“The kitchen’s through there. Living room. Help yourself to whatever.”
“Is there a grocery store nearby?”
“There’s a list in the kitchen. Just add whatever you need.”
“You don’t—” She sighs and shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.”
I can’t help but stop and turn at her incredulous tone. “What?”
“I can buy my own groceries, Jude.”
“So can I.” I roll my eyes. “I can also hire someone to do it for me, so I do. It’s silly for you to go out when I already have someone doing it, but if you insist . . . I can’t stop you.”
She bristles, but doesn’t say anything. Probably because she knows I’m right. I don’t flaunt my worth, but I don’t make excuses for it either. I don’t give a damn what most people think. But I feel the need for her to understand I’m not some pretentious dick. I’ve worked hard to earn this life. While she’s staying here, she’s my guest. I’ll treat her better than anyone who’s stayed here before. Because I can, and because I want to.
“This is the hall bathroom.” I flip on the light as I pass.
“And my room?”
“Depends.”
