Page 56 of Can't Get Over You
“Do you want to get out of here? We can leave.”
“I just… I need a minute, okay?”
Willa watched her with concern. “Of course.”
She took off, passing tables filled with laughter and flirty, loud conversation. While everyone around her had a great time, she was carving herself wide open and looking into the deepest, darkest parts of herself.I should’ve stayed home.
Yeah, but where’s home?Matt said he’d move in with his mom till he found a new place. Did she really want to be alone in that big, empty house? Maybe sheshouldlet it go.
The dance floor was packed, so she made her way around the perimeter, which put the bar directly in her sight.Don’t look at him. Because if she did, she’d have to face the fact that Jude was the man she craved. Jude was the only man she’d ever truly wanted.
But, of course, she looked. She had no control when it came to him. His form-fitting black T-shirt accentuated his musculature, drawing her in like a powerful magnet. She wantedto get her hands on his chest, trace the V that led to the bulge beneath the waistband of his jeans.
No one excited her the way he did.
In high school, the boys had tried to outdo each other with their trucks. They’d show up with new lift kits or knobby tires, custom grilles, and LED light bars. Finlay had been oblivious to all of it.
It was only when Jude rode in on his Harley, his long hair fluttering beneath his helmet and the silver studs on his leather jacket catching the sunlight, that her heart had thundered and her skin had bristled with awareness.
Her reaction had never made sense because she’d wanted a good, clean, beautiful life. She hadn’t wanted to be caught having sex in a public place like the other girls he’d hooked up with. And yet, there’d been that one time she’d seen his bare butt thrusting in the back seat of Laura Edelson’s mom’s Jeep, and a rush of desire had swept through her with such force, she’d nearly lost her footing.
She’d tucked away that memory, playing it repeatedly all these years. It still had the power to get her worked up.
It was the way he hadn’t held back. The way his hips had reared up, and he’d thrust so hard and deeply.
No one had ever wanted her so badly they’d bruise her skin or make her sore. It was such a familiar ache, a yearning for that kind of physical contact. Needing it. She was desperate for the kind of love Jude gave.
Do you even hear yourself?
He doesn’t love you. He’s not built like that. He said so himself.
The most she could hope for was a night of great sex.
And that would never be enough for her. In fact, a night with Jude would ruin her.
Finlay only realized she’d made it to the bar when a bartender with giant, sparkly earrings asked, “What can I get you?”
She didn’t even know how she’d gotten there. “Can I get another round of Malibu Barbies for my table?” Fortunately, Jude had his back to her as he poured draft beers. That man could read her like no one else, and he’d see how badly she wanted another kiss, how the only thing she could think about was his big, warm hand sliding under her shirt and skimming her belly till he reached her breasts.
A sudden jolt of pleasure ignited a pulse between her legs.
You have to stop this.
“You all right?” the bartender asked.
“Sure.” Her gaze flicked over to Jude. “I’m just…”
“For what it’s worth, I’d have walked, too.” She leaned over conspiratorially. “After a stunt like that, I’d never trust that man again.”
Yanked from her preoccupation with Jude, she was momentarily confused. “You know who I am?”
“Oh yeah. One of your guests recorded the whole thing and posted it online. It’s all anyone can talk about.” She must’ve noticed the alarm on Finlay’s face because she hurried to add, “Everyone’s on your side. No one can believe he didn’t tell you before the wedding. Anyhow, I’ll get your drink order started.”
“Thank you.”
Jude coasted over, setting a big, warm hand down over hers and looking deeply into her eyes. “You okay?”
For just a moment, the whole world quieted. Sound blanked out. And it was just Finlay and Jude locked into each other’s orbit. “I really don’t know what I am.”
