Page 105 of Sweet Venom
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, right!” He snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I flinch, my shoulders tensing, but then he balls his hand into a fist and places it near his mouth. “Today, we have a one-of-a-kind witness to Jude’s lackluster performance. We’ll tell you all why you should vote Preston for the best dick around. Miss, can you tell us in detail why sex with Jude is disappointing?”
My mouth hangs open as he places the imaginary mic close to my face. Jude told him about the sex? Can those encounters even be considered sex?
I mean, they technically were, but still. Also, how much does this Preston know?
“Come on.” He steps closer. “Just give me some ammo to crush that big man.”
He’s peering down at me, narrowing his eyes and kind of pushing into my space. My chest tightens and I step back. Pushy men, or those who don’t respect space, hike up my anxiety and trigger memories I covered up and shoved into my metal box that I’m glad Dahlia kept with a few of my belongings.
Those memories start slow, like a spark of electricity through my brain. Preston’s cologne asphyxiates me, and I can feel thick, meaty fingers trying to pull at my skirt, large hands landing on my shoulders, over my breasts.
Our last foster father tried to touch me any chance he got, and even though I pushed him—and got punched—I always feel his meaty hands on me whenever a man touches me threateningly.
Not with Jude, though. The irony.
My shoes catch on the concrete and the spark of discomfort grows and expands. My mouth fills with saliva, and I know I’ll be sick soon.
A large body appears behind Preston.
My heart stutters.
And so does my breathing.
My shaky fingers latch onto my wrist as I stare into those dark eyes, the color of the night. Still as disapproving as ever, still as…hypnotizing.
It’s been months since I last saw Jude Callahan in person.
But seeing him right now is like being hit by an arrow right in the heart. A rush of inexplicable emotions buzz through me, and my limbs are trembling.
Is it anger? Is it all the unsaid things I couldn’t tell him?
Is it something else?
He looks as tall and muscular and intimidating as I remember him. A man who’s able to snap someone in half if he wants to.
A monster.
The man who tried to kill me but changed his mind after he made a deal with Kane, and Mario became collateral damage in his games.
I don’t know what I expect him to say or what I’d reply, but he says nothing.
Just stares.
And I stare back, hoping he sees how much I hate him. That I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to Mario.
“Oh, big man. It’s Sleeping Beauty, who’s not asleep anymore,” Preston says, completely oblivious to the tension thickening the air.
Jude wraps an arm around his neck from behind, headlocking him, and then drags Preston with him.
“Wait! I still haven’t heard her answer about the disappointing sex. I was going to start a podcast!” Preston tries to fight, but Jude is already taking him away.
He doesn’t look back.
Doesn’t acknowledge me.
As if I’m back to being the wallflower he wouldn’t have noticed if life hadn’t shoved me right in his way.
