Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (33 page)

“Oh, fuck—don’t listen to her,” Geoff says, pointing at Jude. “She’s just being shy. She loves birthdays. We all have a day, and hers is a week from today. It’s a huge fucking deal. Every year, Harper takes off work and they spend the whole day together. Then we all go to dinner and Harper keeps her out for the rest of the night. If you give two shits about this girl, you should definitely be there.”

“Geoff!” I gasp, appalled that he’s just guilt tripped Judah into coming out with us. He shrugs and tips back his drink. I groan and turn toward Jude. “It’s okay if you’re busy. Really—it’s
really
okay.”

“I’ll check my calendar and I’ll let you know,” he assures me before looking at his watch. “For now, I’ve got to go. You’re good to get home?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” I say, sad to see him go.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod as he stands and closes the distance between us. He grips the side of my neck, caressing my nape with his fingertips as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “You have no idea how hard it’s going to be for me to walk out of here having not tasted the inside of your mouth. You owe me.”

“Okay,” I breathe. He’s wrong, though. When he presses his lips against mine, I feel his pain. I want more, too.

He pulls away before I’m ready and then offers a blanket goodbye before he’s gone.

“I think it’s safe to say we’ll see him next Thursday,” says Carrie with a grin.

I frown at her and then glare and Geoff. “He’s probably not going to come. I can’t believe you made such a big deal about it.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t! And he’ll be there. I’ll bet my right testicle that he’ll be there.”

I hold my hand out, ready and willing to take that bet. “You’re on—you totally owe me at least one ball after
that
.”

“Bitch, please,” he says, shaking my hand. “I don’t owe you a thing. He’ll be there.
You’re welcome
.”

T
he next morning, an hour into my work day, I receive a vase full of gorgeous teal gerbera daisies. My jaw falls open as soon as the delivery man walks through the door, and it remains that way until Geoff taps my chin. I snap my mouth closed and then a second later, it’s open again—only this time in a giddy grin.

“I told him my favorite color was teal on our first date. He remembered!”

“I think I’m finally ready to forgive him for making you cry. What does the note say?” he asks, nodding toward the card sticking out from the top.

I reach for it, quickly pulling it from out of the envelope.

My cheeks grow warm as I read his words again and again. When Geoffrey reaches over to snatch the card out of my hands, I clap it under my hands against my chest, shaking my head at him emphatically.

“No. Not this one. Sorry.”

“Well, well, well—is Judah being
naughty?
”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, averting my gaze from his before I quickly shove my note into my purse. “I should call him,” I mutter, grabbing my phone. When I look at Geoff once more, the mischievous smile on his face makes me blush again. “I’m just going to step outside for a minute. I swear, I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time, baby girl.”

I hurry out of the gallery, the echo of my heels against the hardwood floors following me as I make my exit. September is a couple weeks away, but the weather is still spectacularly warm, the morning accompanied by a nice, cool breeze. It feels good against my skin, which seems to be heating up as I scroll through my contacts to find Jude. The words in his note circle their way around my mind, and my body buzzes with anxious anticipation.

I’m not stupid. I have a really good idea where Jude’s hands might go the next time I’m with him. And while I won’t lie to myself and say that I’m not a little scared, I also won’t deny that I feel excited. I want him to touch me. I want more than what he’s given me already. I want
him
.

I tap on his name and take a deep breath before pressing my phone against my ear. The line rings five times, and just when I think I’m about to be tossed into his voicemail, his deep, smooth voice fills my ear.

“Good morning.”

“Hi—good morning,” I say through my smile.

“I assume you received my message.”

“Yes,” I murmur.

“Have you finished?”

“Yes. The next time I see you, I will come bearing my camera.”

“Tonight? My place?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Eight o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. Have a good day, Teddy.”

“You, too.”

As we disconnect from the call, I grip both of my hands around the phone and tuck it underneath my chin. It’s entirely possible that I just agreed to far more than I can imagine—but I don’t care. It’s a dangerous mantra that I’m learning when it comes to taking risks where Judah is concerned.
I don’t care.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t want to over think; I don’t want to be scared; I don’t want to deny myself. I just want to live in the moment—and I want to live in the moment with
Jude
. So, as I make my way back into the gallery, I shove all my nervous thoughts aside and make a mental note to drop into The Smitten Kitten over my lunch break.

Tonight definitely calls for some new underwear.

As soon as I get home from work, I throw my hair up and hop in the shower for quick rinse and shave. After I’m finished, I wrap myself in a towel and set about gathering a few things for the night. I toss my purse on the bed along with my camera bag. Then, just in case, I decide to throw a few extra supplies into my purse. Toothbrush. Phone charger. A pair of panties.

For a fraction of a second, I wonder if I’m really ready for this—but I refuse to overthink it. I then turn toward my closet in search of something to wear. I pick out my white t-shirt dress with navy blue stripes, not worried that it only falls mid-thigh. Jude is quite familiar with my leg tattoos, so there really is no point in hiding them.

After I slip into my new lavender, lacey boy shorts and matching sheer bra, I pull the dress over my head and let my hair down. I hurry into the bathroom—fully aware that if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late—and I put on a little makeup. A smidge of mascara and a bit of lip gloss suits me just fine. When I’m finished, I tuck my feet into my navy Toms, grab my bags, and head out for the night.

It’s just a couple minutes past the top of the hour when I knock on his front door. When he doesn’t answer after a minute, I try the handle. It’s unlocked, so I peek my head inside.

“Jude?” I call out, hesitantly stepping over the threshold.

He walks out of his office, his phone pressed against his ear, and holds up a finger. I mouth
sorry
, but he only shakes his head at me and waves me over. I shut the door behind me and make my way down the hall, setting my things at the bottom of the steps as I pass them. As soon as I’m in reaching distance, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. He mutters something in agreement to whomever is speaking to him on the phone, and then he drops the device to his side before capturing my lips in a kiss.

I circle my arms around his neck, needing to hold onto him as I get lost in his affection. When he parts his lips, my tongue naturally slips between them. He grunts, and I respond with a whimper that won’t be silenced as he kisses me deeper. Then, just as quickly as it began, it’s over. He tears his mouth from mine and brings his phone back to his ear. I stand speechless, still wrapped around him as he hums his agreement—as if he’s been listening to the caller on the other line this whole time.

“Look, Brittany, I have to go. Just go over the numbers one more time and call it a night. We’ll deal with it on Monday.”

Brittany
says something else, which I hope is a goodbye because Jude hangs up without another word, pocketing his phone before looking down at me.

“I could have waited. I mean, if that was important, you didn’t have to—”

I’m interrupted with a kiss. “Not that important,” he mutters against my lips. He then bends down and locks both arms around me, lifting me from my feet as he continues to greet me with his wonderfully friendly tongue. I feel trapped against his hard, warm chest, and I’m sure I’ve never been anywhere safer.

By the time he pulls away from me, we’re both short of breath. My stomach growls and a small smile crosses his lips before he asks, “How does salmon sound? Dinner’s done upstairs.”

I think about teasing him and telling him that I’m allergic, but I’m sure I’d never be able to convince him with a straight face. Not after that kiss. Not so long as he’s still holding me.

Instead, I tell him, “Salmon sounds great.”

I set her back on her feet and let her walk ahead of me down the hallway toward the stairs. Before she ascends, she reaches for the bags she came in with. I recognize one as her purse and assume the other is stuffed with the camera she promised she’d bring. Though, I can hardly worry about the possessions she carries so long as her fine-ass legs are on display in front of me. As she hurries her way up the steps, I take my time, admiring the view.

Her dress is shorter than any I’ve ever seen her wear, showing off the bottom half of her dreamcatcher tattoo on her right leg. My hands are already itching to touch her, ready to ease my way underneath that fabric that hides what I’m so fucking hungry for. I restrain myself, knowing that I can’t attack her—for both of our sakes.