Page 19 of Mayfly

Retaliation and instinct get the better of me and I strike back only for Jude to block it, rotate his arm, and lock mine into his side.

I’m strong, but he’s got at least half a foot on me, and he’s using all the advantages that height gives him.

“Why the fuck did you leave?”

“I figured history was repeating itself.”

And there it is, the proverbial dagger that’s been suspended by my neck since the second I saw him, slices at my jugular.

All-encompassing rage surges through me, the adrenalin allowing me to gain the upper hand and push Jude against the wall—my forearm pressed against his throat. “Don’t beat around the bush. If you’ve got something to say, then fucking say it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!” I scream louder.

“Why did you follow me?”

“I couldn’t let you walk away.”

His voice is a whisper in the tension. “Butyoudid.”

“I was fifteen and scared shitless.”

“Of what?”

“You!”

“Me? What the fuck are you talking about? I was the last person in the world you should have been scared of.”

“Fuck you, Jude.” The words are a snarl, torn from deep within my chest as I force harder against his windpipe and only then do I realize there is no tension left in his body.

He reaches for the small of my back. “Go on, then.”

The thought of doing it hasn’t even hit my brain before I’m clutching the lapels of his coat and pulling him down to me. His head tilts, and the most delicious lips in the entire fucking world are forced back against mine.

“I was scared you’d hate me,” I pant out before his tongue is in my mouth.

This kiss is much deeper than before. More fearless.

Jude’s hands run up my chest and to my shoulders, slipping beneath my suit jacket to slide it down my arms and… it’s euphoric.

I’ve never allowed anyone to undress me before. Not since Harry. But with Jude, the thought of the fabric crinkling ina heap on the carpet, doesn't bother me. It’s not even worth another second of my time.

My lips are still desperate for his taste as he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. “Why the hell would I hate you?”

“Because I didn’t help you.”

He unbuttons my waistcoat. “Help me when?”

“That last time, at home.” I try to catch his lips again. But unhappy with my answer, he pulls further away. “With your dad. When you got sent away.”

Jude grabs my face with both hands and forces me to look at him. “And what did you think you could do?”

“Anything… Not just stand there.”

“You were twelve, and Dad was bigger than I am now.”

“I could have at least thrown something at him.”

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