Page 91 of The Surrender
She falters in her pace when she sees me, her animosity instant. Why is she still kicking around here?
I mentally demand my feet to carry me up the stairs, away from her toxic energy, but for all the will in the world, they won’t bloody budge.
“Amelia,” she says, resting her weight on one hip. It’s the kind of stance a woman takes when she’s about to launch into ultra-snarky bitch mode. Call another woman she dislikes and doesn’t respectsweetheartor something equally condescending.
I somehow manage to convince my legs to work.
“How’s your new car?” she calls, quickly halting me again. Staring forward, I imagine all the ways I’d like to hurt her. But in this moment, I realise the best, most effective way is to simply be with Jude.
So I turn and smile, walking backwards up the last few steps. “My new car is as beautiful as my new boyfriend. As comfortable to ride too.” Now I must shut up and move on, and yet her face, a picture of pure indignation, is like petrol on my flames. “Oh, and, Katherine, you must try the new cocktail on the menu. I hear it packs a punch. Toodle-oo.” I pivot and smirk to myself as I walk, getting ready to strip the moment I’m in Jude’s apartment.
“My God, you actually think you know him, don’t you?”
My feet falter, but somehow, I keep walking. I don’t like the sound of that at all. I make it through the door of Jude’s apartment and breathe in deep, fighting back the angry increase of my heartbeats, pacing up and down, hearing her say that last thing over and over. What the hell did that mean?
Jude bursts through the door, his T-shirt half off. He screeches to a halt, looking me up and down. “Why aren’t you naked?”
“I just ran into Katherine.”
His shoulders drop. That pisses me off too.
“She laughed at the idea that IthinkI know you.” My arms fold across my chest. Protective. Like a woman getting ready to block something damaging. I huff under my breath and unfold them. “Whywould she laugh at that?” I ask. “Is there something I should know?” Or something more? And can I take it?
Jude feeds his arm back through his T-shirt and pulls it down. “She’s trying to get a rise out of you.”
“She’s succeeding!” I cry, turning and going to the kitchen. I need water. The sound of Jude’s boots follows me in, but he remains quiet behind me as I bang my way around his kitchen. After glugging back half the glass, I slam it down while Jude hovers on the threshold, as if scared to enter. “It would be easy not to give her a rise if she wasn’t here.” I throw it out there. “Why haven’t you told her to fuck off?”
He laughs under his breath, looking at the ceiling. For patience? I’m astounded. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not that simple?” I parrot on a recoil. “It’sverysimple. This is your hotel, Jude. Go tell her to find another health club to work out at.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he breathes, daring to enter.
“Are you just going to carry on saying stupid shit?”
“Amelia.” His tone is low. Pacifying. I don’t appreciate it.
“Don’tAmeliame,” I warn, circling around the island, keeping myself on the other side from him. “She vandalised my car, Jude. She’s making menotwant to come here.”
His eyes slightly narrow. I don’t appreciate that either. “I’ll talk to her,” he says, calm, rounding the island towards me.
I instinctively move too, away from him. “I don’t want you to talk to her.”
“How the hell can I fix this if I can’t talk to her?”
“First, you don’t talk to her, youtellher, and you fix it bytellingher to fuck off and never come back.” Am I being unreasonable? Bratty? God, I don’t even know. But I do know I shouldn’t have to ask him to do this. I’d love to see him invite my ex into his hotel and cause a daily shitstorm. My head in my hands, I breathe into them, hating this version of myself. I’m a big girl. I can take Katherine’s digs and deflect her claws. But every day? I’m already exhausted by her. And, besides that, I shouldn’t bloody have to.
My wrists are suddenly wrapped in Jude’s palms, and he pulls my hands away, making me face him. “I will fix this,” he says, sincere. “I promise.”
Have I ever been so needy? It’s an odd sense of vulnerability andverysignificant. I love him enough to care. He means enough for me to feel this way. “Okay,” I murmur, standing before him, heavy and tired.
“I’m going to make everything better.” He strokes his hands up my bare arms, shivers following his touch over my shoulders.
“How?” I whisper, pulling my shoulder blades in to sustain the torture of his breath in my ear.
“First,” he says quietly, licking the sensitive spot below my lobe as he tugs my workout top up over my head, thrusting his hips into me, “I’m going to take off all these sweaty clothes and lay you on the kitchen floor.” My eyes close, my brain empties, leaving room for only Jude. “Then,” he breathes, biting down on my lobe and dragging it through his teeth. My hand flies up and fists his T-shirt.
“Then what?” I ask, my head rolling on my neck as he kisses my throat.
