There You Stand (Between Breaths 5)

He reached up and dragged his fingers across the scruff on my chin, and then slid them into my hair. I had purposely left my cap at home today.

When his lips brushed against mine, I sighed into his mouth and then deepened the kiss, giving him everything I had. My tongue surveyed each corner of his mouth—taking, tasting, memorizing.

“Thank you,” he whispered and my heart stuttered in my chest at the intense set to his jawline. Jude continued to be a man of carefully chosen words, so I cherished any he freely gave away.

My fingers stroked his neck. “What for?”

“For taking a chance. For not being too afraid.” He shut his eyes as if in pain. “I didn’t think I could have someone like you.”

I traced his eyelids and cheekbones with my thumbs, keeping my mouth closed so that he could get his thoughts out.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen or for how much longer I’ll be allowed this gift, but I cherish it every single day,” he said into my neck, his accent deliciously pronounced. “Every time I can see your smile and your eyes.”

I pulled him firmly against me so that our chests were connected and I could feel his heart beating rapidly against mine. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t think that you’re not worthy of thanks. You’ve helped me to slow down and listen to the silence. And at first, I thought it was too fucking painful but now I see that it’s beautiful. Just like you’re beautiful.”

He tenderly rubbed his mouth against mine.

“Don’t change on me too much, Cory,” he said, shaking his head. “I was attracted to the man who couldn’t keep his trap shut.”

My cheeks felt on fire and I smiled. “That wasn’t the real me.”

He sat down on the table and I pulled my tray of supplies forward.

“It was the way you coped and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“And how do you cope?” I asked, reaching for my rubber gloves. “By being silent and always running?”

“I never imagined . . . that this would be . . .” He pulled back and drew a deep breath, anguish in his eyes.

“The night of my eighteenth birthday, my mother knew,” he said. “We’d been living with Elias for a few months.”

“What did she know?” I asked, giving him my full attention.

“That I was of legal age and the stakes would be higher. I could land in jail or worse,” he said, his breaths becoming choppy, his eyes unfocused. “She told me to run and hide. To keep my head down and my words to a minimum since I was positively hopeless at imitating an American accent.”

And then it struck me loud as thunder dead center in my chest. His mother had sacrificed her life for him. She knew if she helped him to escape it would get ugly for her. The idea of it was so terrible, I couldn’t even say it aloud.

“Jude—”

“My mother was a brave and compassionate lady.” He shook his head as if banishing any horrible thoughts. “She regretted getting involved with Elias, told me she was sorry every single day.”

It was as if he was staring straight through me, completely lost in the past, in his memories, during that vividly awful time in his life.

“But he was like a nightmare that she couldn’t run from. He would’ve hunted her down, that’s how obsessed he’d been with her,” he said through gritted teeth. “He called her mi cielo. Every single time I’d hear that coming from his lips, my whole body would revolt.”

I reached my fingers out to comfort him. “What does that mean?”

A shudder stole across his shoulders. “It means, my heaven.”

I felt bile crawl up the back of my throat. The way Jude said the words made my skin crawl.

“In the back of my mind, I thought if I got the authorities involved I could save her. But it was already too late.” He squeezed his eyes closed and his fingers clutched the back of his neck. “The day I walked away from her was the single hardest moment of my life.”

I pulled him into my arms and just held him for several long minutes. I could feel the warm air on my nape as he released choppy breaths.

“If I have to walk away from you too . . .” His voice cracked.

“No matter what,” I said, cutting him off because I couldn’t bear to hear him say the words. “You’ll always own my heart.”

His lips smashed against mine as his fingers gripped my hair.

“Bloody hell, do I want to take you somewhere and have you all to myself.”

“I want that, too.” I slanted my forehead against his, breathing heavily.

“I can still smell you on my pillow,” Jude said, a rosy color stealing over his cheeks. “I’ve been reluctant to wash it.”

My eyes met his and there was so much affection there, along with a flare of lust.

“We’ll just have to figure out how to make new memories. Hopefully soon.”

We were quiet for a while longer and my pulse picked up speed because of the surprise I had for Jude. I’d thought of it in my drawing class and used a fresh sheet of paper to sketch it out. If he agreed, I’d have to do it freehand and I hoped to hell that he liked it.

“You trust me, right?” I asked, biting my lip.

His eyebrow shot up. “Why?”

I moved to the table and reached for my sketchpad. My heart was thumping in my chest as I flipped the page toward him. “This is the section I’m finishing up today.”