Page 63 of Wilde Nights in Paradise

She exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath for nearly a decade. “It can’t be any worse than wondering for eight years what I did wrong.”

“Nothing.” He looked stricken and angled his body so that they sat face-to-face. “Libs, you did nothing wrong, okay? It was all me. I thought I—” He stopped short.

“Thought you could have your cake and eat it, too?” she offered. “That’s what Dad told me. He said all you young Marines were the same—it was just a part of your lifestyle. You didn’t know how to commit. I didn’t believe him, but he tried so hard to cheer me up afterward. Took me to ball games, even suffered through a Renaissance fair because he knew I liked them. He can be a jerk, but he has such a big heart, and it’s always in the right place.”

Jude’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to say more.

“Jude, it’s okay. I get it. We were so young, and we rushed everything.”

His shoulders slumped, the steel going out of his spine. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” There was an odd hollowness to his voice and a flatness in his eyes that she decided to analyze later because she was just too damn happy that he wasfinallytalking to her.

“I was young,” he said. “Had no impulse control.”

Working up a smile, she poked him in the side. “And you do now?”

“I’ve learned. It’s still not my greatest strength, but there are some lines that I won’t cross. That’s one of them.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s up to you.” He lifted his gaze, and his beautiful blue eyes were as serious as she’d ever seen them. “But I do know I want a second chance.”

And here it was, she thought. The choice. Now that there was no reason to stay together, the smart thing to do would be to leave the past in the past, let these last few weeks go down as a pleasant fling, and go their separate ways. No damage. That’s what the old Libby would do, but this experience had changed her. He had changed her, and the new Libby wasn’t so adverse to a little risk. Some things were worth it.

Jude was worth it.

She closed the distance between them and laid her hands on his cheeks, pressing her lips to his. “I seem to have two weeks left of my vacation with nothing to do.”

He caught her waist and dragged her onto his lap. “Is that so?”

“Unless you have some ideas.”

“Tons.” His lips skimmed the tendon along the side of her neck. “But I need to warn you, babe. Most involve a bed.” Grinning, he scooped her into his arms and placed the cover over the fire bowl to douse the flames.

“Sounds like fun. But, Jude?” As he carried her toward the bedroom, she nipped his ear, flicked his earring with her tongue, and felt his groan rumble through his entire body. “Don’t call me babe.”

“You got it.” His lips twitched. “Baby.”

She sighed and settled her head on his chest. This was one battle she wasn’t going to win. Time to plea bargain. “Okay, you can call me baby or babe—whatever—as long as I can call you Sugar Cheeks.”

“Sugar Cheeks. I like it. Suits me.”

She laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Jude kicked open the bedroom and playfully tossed her on the bed. She bounced once, but then he was there, his big body covering hers, his mouth claiming and devouring, until the storm outside paled in comparison to the one raging between them.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jude downed the shot of Jack the bartender set in front of him and then went back to nursing his beer. The call he’d expected all day had come in just before midnight. He’d set his phone on vibrate so as not to wake Libby and snapped it up before the end of the first ring, intent on telling Colonel Pruitt to go fuck himself.

He never got the words out. They stuck in his throat, caught and held by all of his personal demons, just like they had eight years ago.

After he hung up, he’d suddenly found himself unable to breathe with pressure building to uncomfortable heights inside his chest. He’d needed air and had planned only to go for a short walk. Somehow, he’d ended up on Duval Street and then in this bar. He barely remembered sitting down, but by the pleasant buzz he had going, he guessed he’d been here long enough to have had a few.

His discussion earlier with Libby weighed heavily on him. He should’ve told her the truth about what happened eight years ago. When she brought it up, he’d had every intention of telling her, but then she started going on about how big of a heart her father had and he just…couldn’t.

And, now, coupled with that phone call…

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