Heroic Measures (Blackbridge Security 6)

I’m spouting bullshit about virgins getting clingy all the while wanting to snatch the damn rubbers from his grip because it pisses me off to think of him running out and jumping into the next willing woman’s bed. I’ve seen what’s under his clothes. How in the world did he hold out this long and—“Why me?”

The rasp of his zipper echoes in the otherwise silent room, sending chills down my back.

“Why not you?” he counters, and it angers me enough to turn around and look at him.

Of course, it’s just in time to see him pull his shirt over his head, covering that perfect chest I could’ve spent hours memorizing with my tongue.

“You waited for a reason,” I argue.

“Not really.” He shrugs, a sad smile on his handsome face. “You offered.”

I can tell by the way his eyes dart from mine that there’s more to the truth than that, but I have no business asking him about it.

I don’t know why I just can’t let the man get dressed and leave.

“Well,” I finally manage. “Tonight was fun, but it can never happen again.”

He crosses the room leaning in close. “I may have been a virgin, Parker, but I also know how one-night stands work.”

His words hit me in the chest like a baseball bat. Why is all the good dick attached to men with issues?

“Walk me to the door,” he says as he stands to his full height, and for some reason, I stand and walk behind him, uncaring that I’m as naked as the day I was born.

I’m comfortable in my skin, but just before reaching the door, he turns around, his eyes skating the length of me, and I feel that same connection I felt when I watched him walk to the front of the classroom earlier this evening. It’s a longing almost strong enough to overpower all the warning bells pinging around in my head.

“Mmm,” he groans, his finger and thumb teasing the tip of one breast. “Had a great time. Thanks.”

His lips find mine, tongue teasing against the seam of my mouth, but just as I’m opening for him and forgetting everything else in the world, he breaks the kiss, opens my door, and walks away.

He doesn’t even look back as he pushes open the door to the stairwell and disappears. I’m left standing completely naked in my open doorway, mouth hanging open, feeling like I somehow just got played.

Was he lying just to get a rise out of me? Did he say that so I would be the one to declare it never happens again?

Not possible.

I haven’t been swindled.

It’s not possible.

As I make my way back to the room to take a shower, I go back over the entire night since he arrived. He seemed shocked at first when I kissed him, but he got over that very quickly. He stared at my body like he wanted to worship it every time I caught him looking.

I was concerned about his oral skills when I straddled his face, but he more than made up for it the second time he put his mouth on me.

Every damn thing is a contradiction, and thinking about it is getting me worked up, but in a way that makes me hate not asking him to stay rather than getting angry.

As I shower and try to block out thoughts of him, I find myself smiling every time his face flashes in my head. God, the sounds he made when he came, the reverence in his eyes, and the adoration in his touch made me feel like he was enjoying his time with me as much as I was with him.

I’ve had guys gawk and praise. I’ve had guys tell me they can’t get enough of me.

Jude didn’t have to use such empty words. His body spoke for him, and the only problem I can see is deciding if I’m done listening or not.

Chapter 7

Jude

“I’m just saying,” I mutter to my best friend a few days later. “I don’t mind if you need help.”

“And I told you before that despite what those women have been through, they’re pretty independent. They don’t really need two of us breathing down their necks.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want me there?”

“I’m actually wondering why you’re making such a big deal about it?”

I shrug, dropping my eyes to the magazine article on global warming instead of facing him fully. “I’m not. I just—whatever, man. I was just offering to help.”

“You sure that’s all?” he asks after snatching the magazine from my hands and holding it out of reach.

“Really? What are you, five? Give that back.”

He looks down at the article. “The polar ice caps won’t melt between now and the end of this conversation.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, Quinten. Nine percent every decade is still too fas—”