“I need it and the laptop. Meet me in the living room,” she demanded before she headed to the bathroom.
He caught her hand as she tried to pass, and before she could blink, his lips were on hers.
“Open up to me,” he pleaded.
She did.
He moved so gently, his lips covering her in a whisper, his tongue tracing, licking. It was nothing like the kiss they’d shared in Moscow. That had been heat and need and anger. Desperation.
This one was soft, pleading, holding too much emotion for words. He sipped at her, careful of her bruised face, loving her lips even as his tongue requested permission to enter her mouth completely.
She gave it, sucking on him, tasting him. She heard herself moan, felt his body harden, and knew she was going to lose herself to him.
Wait, he demanded only truth, and that had to begin with herself. She had to acknowledge this truth—that she was already lost.
He pulled away slowly and made his way out of the room with a husky chuckle. Ella went into the bathroom, ran some cold water, and splashed her face. She needed to cool down, get her mind right. Eventually, she took the same path Jude had, still in the fog of the heat he built in her so effortlessly as she slowly descended the stairs.
She stopped on a step and watched him. He sat on one of the leather couches, and on the low coffee table in front of him sat a laptop and a Hershey bar. His big body leaned back against the leather as if he hadn’t a care in the world, and the vixen in her responded. Yes, she had responsibilities—Anna Beth Caine, finding out who was controlling Dresden, figuring out what the Piper was doing—and they weighed on her. But she needed this with Jude. She needed what she found inside his arms to cement her to the present and make everything real.
His chest rose and fell as his fingers drummed on the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, the black depths of them hidden to her. She could lose herself in him for a little while—remember her reason for setting out on her journey a year ago. It was all about Jude.
Need thrummed through her, poignant and heartbreaking. She knew what she had to do. Slowly, she reached up and pulled her hair down from its ponytail. Ella wasn’t as weak as he thought her to be.
And she was about to put something on him he’d never forget.
* * *
It was late. She should be asleep, resting to refuel her body and heal. Instead she was up, thinking, plotting. Jude could practically smell it on her. She only bit her nails when she had a puzzle to solve—it was the analyst in her. She hated conundrums and had to solve them, determine every last piece and its place, before her brain would give her rest.
She’d demanded a satellite phone. He’d given it to her when everything in him said not to. He didn’t want a soul knowing anything about her or her whereabouts. He’d given in because his Ella was fierce when she demanded something. Then she wanted a laptop.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He’d give her his, but only after he knew what she was searching for. Give and take. That’s what they were now. Until he could trust her anyway. Or until she trusted him.
And now she walked toward him like every wet dream he’d ever had. Dressed in sweats and one of his ratty New Mexico State sweatshirts, with beautiful dark-chestnut hair down around her shoulders, she was a vision. He didn’t even see the bruises on her face, because all he knew was Ella.
His cock hardened behind his fly. Instead of acting on it, he nodded to the laptop. She looked conflicted for a few seconds but eventually grabbed the computer and sat across from him. Within two minutes, she’d handled whatever business she’d needed to—and he’d be asking her about that shortly—before closing the laptop.
She stood once again, teeth worrying her lower lip, tongue sliding along the curve of it. Heat flowed into his extremities, and he sat forward. But she didn’t hesitate, coming directly to him and pushing his shoulders until he reclined once again, before she climbed up onto his lap.
Goddamn.
She sank against him, aligning her core with his jean-covered hardness and rotating her hips just once. She played the move off as if she was simply settling, but he knew her. Knew her wants. Knew how she moved.
She tugged on his T-shirt until he lifted it over his head, and then her hands were all over him, stroking down his pecs, nails scraping his nipples. He groaned and she laughed, the sound a spear to his midsection because it was so damn sexy. His fingers flexed on her thighs, and she bit her lip. Then she settled her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in, yet another indication of her need.
Ella lowered her head to his, her mouth hovering over his, sweet breath fanning his face. “Let me give you a truth, Jude.”
He moved his hands to her hips, and he nearly gave in to the temptation to move her over him, back and forth, until they both yelled in release. “I’m here,” he said in lieu of acting on his baser urge.
“You were the last thing I saw before Savidge shot me. I watched your face, saw your horror, and knew I was about to die. You were my last thought before my new existence began.”
He hissed in a breath, pain knifing his gut, rendering him incapacitated in the face of her words. “What was it?”
She cocked her head, still hovering right at his lips, so close he could taste her. “What was what?”
“Your last thought.”
Another infinitesimal centimeter eliminated as she lowered even more, hips fully cradling him now, fingers still digging in deep. “I love you.”
God, he’d never experienced pain like what she’d just
