Page 104 of The Invitation

“I am!” I scream. “I’m so fucking done. I wish I’d never laid eyes on you. I wish you didn’t exist. I wish I could forget you! I wish I could go back to before I met you and make some better fucking choices.”

Jude blinks. Recoils. He’s hurt? Give me a break. “You could forget me if you wanted to.”

“No, I can’t.” And that fucking sucks. He’s scratched into my mind. I’m fucking doomed, destined to live with regret because of the stupid decisions I’ve made. I was right all along. He’s dangerous.

I need to go.

I have to leave.

I search for my purse, realising quickly that I must have dropped it outside. I point to the door. “My purse is out there,” I say, my shortness of breath indicative of my exhaustion, physical and emotional.

“Why can’t you forget about me?”

My arm lowers and my brain empties. The expressive eyes staring back at me could break me.

“Tell me, Amelia. Why?”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re not leaving. You’re going to stay and help me figure out what the fuck is going on here.”

I bite down on my lip, so fucking torn. I can’t be with a man who pimps himself out, no matter how serious or insignificant. This, what we’re experiencing, isn’t insignificant.Fuck, I know this isn’t insignificant.

Approaching cautiously, Jude watches me carefully for any signs that I’m about to bolt. I feel like my feet are stuck to the carpet. My resolve is cracking. I’m a slave to this man, and there is nothing I can do about that. Do I just have to accept the inevitable?

“My eyes are on you and you alone, Amelia,” he says quietly, closing in on me. He reaches out, offering himself up. “So fucking take me. Devastate me. Do what the fucking hell you want with me, because this begins and ends with you.”

His declaration crushes me as I look at him before me, his hands held out, offering them to me. “Stop it.”

“Only you. Do you want me?”

My teeth clamp down on my lip, trying to stop it wobbling.

“Answer me,” he demands.

The dam holding back my need and desire collapses as I reach for his hands. It’s my answer. I’m tugged into his body, and neither of us holds back, our lips finding each other’s, our frustrations and desperation getting the better of us. Our kiss is all wild tongues, clashing teeth, our hands are everywhere, feeling each other.

Untameable.

Unquenchable.

Inevitable.

I wrench his T-shirt up his torso, practically ripping it over his head and throwing it down, my hands going to his belt and yanking it open. Jude groans into my mouth as I unbutton his fly, keeping his lips on mine, his tongue lapping, as he wriggles out of his jeans, kicking off his shoes, reaching to pull his socks off, before he starts on me. He tears my camisole off, pushes my trousers down my thighs. I moan, bitingat his lip as he circles my waist and lifts, letting me shake my heels and trousers off. My back is soon against the wooden island counter, Jude bent over me, my legs wrapped around his hips as he yanks the cups of my bra down. I cry out, throwing my head back as he kisses his way over my breastbone and bites at one boob, massaging the other.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this body,” he mumbles around a mouthful of my flesh. “Fuck, these tits, your mouth, your begging pussy.” A finger slips past my knickers and into my desire, and I grab his hair, pulling and tugging, squeezing my thighs tighter around his hips. He gasps, drives deep, and withdraws, coming back to my mouth, slipping his palm under the back of my head and encouraging me up, making our kiss forceful. “You feel so good.” His tongue laps at mine rapidly, any control fading fast, his dick fighting for freedom. I reach down to his boxers and slip my hand inside, holding him, gasping at the heat and throb. “Shit,” he grunts, momentarily losing the pace of his kiss. “God, I need you so badly.” He rises, dragging his palm down my front to my stomach, watching his moving hand. My body rolls, anticipation ruining me. The sight of him towering over me, adoring me, worshipping my body.

Irresistible.

Mouthwatering.

Heartthrob.

Jude peeks up at me through his lashes, his eyes hooded. The way he’s looking at me? It’s crushing. Need. So much need. “Why are you a fuckup?” I ask quietly.

He strokes back up my body, forcing my spine to bow, my chest pushing up. I can’t take my eyes off him. “I don’t want to ruin this,” he whispers, scanning my eyes.

“Then don’t.” My breathing is loud. My pulse throbs in my ears.

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