But he was a delicate baby, and Oscar had warned me.
Except he’d kissed me like he wasn’t a baby because he was a full-grown man.
And a killer was stalking us, and maybe what I wanted was a connection, a real human connection, in the face of the uncertainty, and the fear, and the anger, and I just wanted to press my body against his and forget for a minute that everything was upside down.
“I can move…” Jude sat up, but I reached out for his arm and pulled him back down.
“Why? Because Oscar thinks I can’t keep my hands to myself?”
Jude glanced sharply at me. “Do you want to keep your hands to yourself?”
“Yes,” I lied as I studied Jude’s face in the moonlight streaming in from the open blinds in his window.
“I don’t believe you,” he challenged. “I think you’re going to accost me if I stay here. You’ve got that look in your eye.”
“What look?”
“Thislook.” He made himself look hungry and a little crazed, with his tongue lolling out.
“That’s not what I look like,” I protested, but I wasn’t so sure.
“Now you’re smiling,” he said. “And we all know bad things happen when you smile.”
“Don’t leave,” I demanded. “I’ll keep your virginity intact.”
“I’m no virgin,” he said. Jude lay down facing me, our noses just inches apart. He blinked in the moonlight. “You’re going to attack me.”
“No, I’m not,” I lied.
“Then why are you staring at my lips?”
“Because they’re right in my face.”
“Want me to move them?”
“No,” I said, throat dry.
“What do you want me to do?” Jude asked.
This was the wrong answer. I knew it was the wrong answer the second the words left my tongue.
“I want you to kiss me,” I said.
Fifteen
The Canceled Killer’s third victim was the CEO of the cosmetics brand Belle, which ran an ad campaign featuring their anti-cruelty, all-organic stance. It later came to light that she not only ordered animal testing, but she also ignored reports that her cosmetics were contaminated with dangerous heavy metals, including lead. The Canceled Killer force-fed Belle’s CEO a tube of her own mascara, and she choked on it.
—Crime Hivepodcast
Jude leaned in then and pressed his lips against mine. And it was exactly what I needed: an oasis in the middle of the Sahara desert, the warm flicker of a fire on a cold winter’s night. It was cold and hot all at once, as I slid my hands up his chest, the thin fabric of his undershirt not hiding the ridges of his pecs beneath. He shuddered beneath my touch and deepened the kiss, his tongue finding mine. My entire body felt like it was on fire, but at the same time, I needed to get closer to Jude. I wanted every bit of my skin against his, as he deepened the kiss. He was hungry for it, just like I was, because soon, we were devouring each other. Hands roving each other’s bodies as if it was something we’d always wanted, as if we’d awakened a long sleeping beast, a monster that was so hungry. So very hungry.
My hands were in the waistband of his pajama bottoms, moving to his amazingly sculpted butt. Good Lord, the man did not skimpon leg day. Jude’s body was all hard muscle, strong, sinewy, and amazing. I wanted to touch it all. The fact that I shouldn’t, that I wasn’t supposed to, just made it all the more delicious.
“We’re not supposed to be doing this,” I told him.
“Oh, I know,” he said, laying kisses down my neck.
“You’re a delicate flower,” I said.
