Page 435 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Love?

Jude hesitates, his mouth less than an inch from mine. My heart hammers away in my chest, and I start aching inside when I feel him growing hard for me again.

Kiss me!

But my silent command doesn’t reach him. He bows his head and kisses my neck, my shoulder. Strong hands grasp at my breast as his cock thickens against my ass.

I squirm away from him, furious at how desperate I was for his lips on mine when all he wants is to fuck me again. “No one can know about this,” I snap.

“Harper.” Jude grasps my wrist, but I pluck my hand away.

I’m suddenly desperate for sleep—propersleep—and I know I’ll be lying awake for hours trying to figure out what all of this is meant to be. I can’t do that here, with Jude’s reluctant intimacy battering my mind.

I hunt the daybed with shaking hands until I find the clothes he’d stripped from me. My core aches at the memory of himripping them off, but I force myself not to get dragged under again.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he says in a tight voice. “No one’s gonna come. Stay. Please. I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

I pause for a moment.

I don’t want to hurt him more than I already have. I don’t want to give him false hope. I’ve seen so many different facets of his personality that I’m struggling to grasp who he truly is. But I know whoIam.

I’m the girl who broke him.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

But maybe he suspects something because he doesn’t try to stop me again when I leave.

Chapter 45

Jude

Why the fuck didn’t I kiss her? She was right there fucking begging for it, and I wussed out. Why?

Because it would have changed everything.

What I did to Harper last night was done out of spite, out of fury. And she took it without a fight because she knew she deserved it. It’s that simple. But cuddling in each other’s arms, making out—that’s not what either of us wants.

Is it?

My head feels stuffed with cotton wool. There’s a hollow in my stomach, but I’m not hungry. I have a headache, feel dehydrated, and I’m mentally and physically exhausted.

This isn’t the right time to work out complex shit like where Harper and I stand. I have time.

I can’t dismiss the fact that, for the first timeever,I feel...satisfied. I climb the stairs to my room, wolfing down a pop tart with a strange grin playing on my mouth.

Football has been my outlet ever since I needed one. Yeah, I dated a few times, but nothing serious. I lost my virginity in middle school, tried anal for the first time in high school. Butnothing ever came close to this. Was it because I was so fucking tweaked?

Or was it because of Harper?

The answer is obvious when I climb into bed and immediately regret letting her leave my arms. We’d only dozed off for an hour, maybe two, but I’d been fast asleep.

I’m still smiling, and it takes me a few seconds to realize why.

It’sover.

I don’t hate Harper anymore. It’s like she flipped a switch in my fucking head. Gone is the anger, the resentment. When I think of her, all I feel is a deep longing. I want to be close to her, want to be enveloped in her smell, feel her warm body against mine. But not just that...I want to ask her more questions. I’m suddenly dying to know what her childhood wasreallylike. What she wants to study. If she’s planning on going to college. If she wants to go to college withme.

It’s exhilarating, and that’s why I’m smiling.

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