Page 106 of Sweet Nightmare

“Jude?” Fear shakes my resolve. “Jude! What—”

“Don’t,” he tells me in a voice gone gravelly from I can’t even imagine what.

“Don’t what?” I ask, confused.

He blinks, and the black feathery things slowly slither out of his eyes until—finally—I’m looking at Jude again, the real Jude, and he is looking at me. “Don’t love me.”

The words hit me like a brick—like a million bricks—falling back into place as the wall I’ve worked so hard to tear down reconstructs between us. I reel under the pain of it, under the hurt of being pushed away by Jude yet again.

But I don’t back off, don’t run away like so much of me wants to. Partly because where would I go anyway? And partly because I refuse to give up so easily—not this time. Because Jude is worth it, and so am I.

“Too late,” I tell him with a cockiness I’m far from feeling. “It’s already happened. Besides, when have I ever listened to you?”

“For once, you need to listen,” he says hoarsely.

“Maybe I need to do something else.” I push back up on my tiptoes, as high as I can go this time. And then, as the rain and wind crash against us, I sink into him. Melt into him. And press my mouth to his.

At first Jude doesn’t move—not his lips, not his arms, not even his body. He just stands there like a statue.

I pull back, mortified. Traumatized. Hurt—so hurt—because I thought I mattered to him. I thought we mattered. And instead, I’ve made a fool of myself again.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble as I pray for one of the bolts of lightning to smite me. “I don’t know why I—”

And that’s when he strikes.

Jude reaches out and grabs my waist. I have one moment to wonder what’s happening and then he’s yanking me forward, his mouth slamming down on mine.

My brain short-circuits for one second, two, as he… There’s no word for what he does to me.

Devours me?

Consumes me?

Turns my world upside down with the need that pours off him in wild, storm-tossed waves that slam into me—that pull me under—in the best, most indescribable way?

Heat streaks through me, and my whole body—my whole soul—fades into him. I wrap my arms around his waist. Pull him closer. Take every piece of him that I can get—every tiny little molecule that he’s willing to give me.

And still, it’s not enough. Still, I want more of him. Need more of him.

I press closer until I can feel the shuddering of his breath and the wild, rampaging beat of his heart against my own.

Somewhere in the back of my head, there’s a voice telling me that this isn’t the time or the place for this, but I don’t care. I can’t care.

Because finally, finally, finally, this is Jude. And me. And for this one, so not perfect but somehow absolutely perfect moment, that’s all that matters.

He nips at my lip, and I open for him, offering him all the broken, battered, so not perfect pieces of me. Giving him everything that I have, everything that I am, and—

He wrenches himself away.

I whimper, clutching at him with greedy, desperate hands, but he’s already backing away. His cheeks are ruddy, his rain-slicked hair tousled from my fingers, and the black, feathery ropes fill the air around us.

He’s right here, right in front of me. But I can see it in his face. In his blown-out pupils. Jude is already gone in all the ways that matter.

“You can’t love me, Kumquat,” he tells me in a voice so deep and violent I barely recognize it. “No one can.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper from lips still swollen and stinging from his kiss. “I love you.”

He shakes his head. “If you knew—”

---