Page 25 of Wanted

“Did you need something?” The words tumble out as a testament to my nerves flaring at his nearness.

“Sorry?”

“You’re just back so soon.”

“Well, I was on my way to my room, but I thought I should see what all the grunting was about.”

My heart beats in time to the seconds passing before the first whisper of his fingertips touches me. The way he grips the back of my dress, one finger lays against my bare skin. The contact there is a solid point of warmth contrasting my usual chilly temperature.

His careful tugging sends a jolt through me. A blush hits my cheeks as a current sizzles down my spine to pool in my stomach. I close my eyes. My breathing deepens, and I fight to smother the ragged inhales.

If only reaching for my water wouldn’t raise suspicions to my current predicament. I could guzzle the remaining half bottle to ease my suddenly dry mouth. He adjusts his grip and more of him touches me. His knuckles bump the ridges of my spine. Jude pauses, as if he’s also noticing the prolonged skin-on-skin. So slowly I can’t be sure it isn’t intentional, his fingers slip further down my back.

Okay, I’m not sure even water would be enough to quench this sudden inferno ripping through me.

A sharp yank and the sound of my zipper splitting has my eyes flying open. Cool air hits my skin as the threads practically disintegrate, revealing my bare back from shoulders to just above the swell of my ass.

“Fixed it.”

“Did you just rip it open?”

“Yep.”

“Do you mind not tearing my clothes anymore? This dress is all I have.” I clutch the loosened fabric against my chest. I’m one misstep away from sprawling naked on the floor.

“Didn’t think you’d need to wear it again since your fuck of a fiancé left you on the side of a highway.”

My throat clogs, and I swallow hard. His description of Dillon settles somewhere deep. The way he acknowledges the mistake I nearly made doesn’t fill me with shame. Not the way it did when the concerns I raised to my parents were dismissed. They made me feel like marrying Dillon was the best option for me.

Despite knowing deep down it wasn’t.

But when you grow up as I did, one delinquent bill away from homelessness, selling possessions and scraping coins from between couch cushions, you stop questioning that sinking feeling and start living with it. It becomes a part of you. You stop believing there could be anything better.

I might be in a strange man’s house with a concussion and a broken arm, but at least I’m not married to Dillon. Jumping out of that car was the best thing I could have ever done, even if it was reckless.

Dark fabric obscures my vision, snapping me back to the present as it’s pulled over my face and traps my hair against my neck.

“Arms.” Jude holds the length of a tee shirt out past my shoulders.

“Whose shirt is this?”

“Yours now.” As my arms individually clear the holes, he drops the hem. The length of it settles around mid-thigh. “You can wear my clothes until I pick up something else.”

“Are you going to dress me every day too?” The testy remark finds its way out of my mouth. Unfamiliar emotions at being cared for force me from the familiarity of my comfort zone and into this chaotic unknown. I’m not used to depending on anyone other than myself. The way Jude’s stepped up to help effortlessly leaves me feeling disoriented.

The fabric smells like him, surrounding me and dulling the conflict in my veins. I fight against burying my nose in the collar to absorb his clean scent.

Courage fills my next breath as I slowly exhale and drop the dress to the ground. The ruined material pools at my ankles like some metaphor for my surrender.

“There are pants too.” Jude clears his throat and points at the bed.

I smirk and draw back the covers. “I’m a less-is-more kind of girl.” The sheets are cool and silky against my bare legs as I climb between them, careful not to flash Jude my ass. The only part of me still clad in my own clothes.

“Fair warning, you come downstairs like that, and one of my brothers sees you, I’m not going to like it,” Jude bites out.

“Why?” The bold question hovers between us.

Jude gazes at me with a harsh expression, holding my eyes with a pause before he answers. “Their wives would bury me alive.”

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