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His body tensed. He swore under his breath. Then murmured, “Kate…” A second later, she felt him convulse, his cock surging inside her, his liquid heat flooding her pussy.
Intensifying her own climax. “Jude!”
His hot seed filled her, seared her.
“Oh, God!” She’d never felt anything so decadent, so close to a branding, it left her breathless…while making her spirit soar on a level she’d never before experienced.
And once more, Kate wondered how the hell she’d ever recover from Jude McMillan…
Jude let the release engulf him with all its electrical currents and sizzling aftershocks, keeping all thoughts from his brain aside from the most prominent one: Kate.
Kate.
This incredibly gorgeous, smart and sensitive creature that captivated him. This unbelievably sensational, insightful woman who riveted him.
Grounded him.
That notion had occurred to him before. At the moment, the thought expounded in his head tenfold.
What Jude had been reeling from all evening, she helped him sort out, helped him find different avenues and outlets for his angst and pain and scattered thoughts. Then she’d embraced him intimately and with so much heated passion and enthusiasm, so much genuine desire, he’d been able to separate out the impossible from the possible. The dark from the light. The things he had no control over from the things he did have control over.
Dawn Stevens’ death was an uncontrollable outcome.
Annalise’s death was an uncontrollable outcome.
Accepting her reasoning for her actions, however, was a controllable outcome. If Jude chose for it to be.
Helping Nathanial Stevens move on from his personal tragedy was a controllable outcome. If Jude chose for it to be.
It was a lot to contend with. But what taunted him the most was how he might turn this intermittent, on-off-on affair with Kate into a controllable outcome. A positive outcome.
He was considering this when her sweet sigh tickled the shell of his ear.
“That was surreal,” she murmured. “Sublime? Self-indulgent?” She laughed softly. “Maybe I should just stick with wicked. Typical Jude McMillan, being scandalous.”
“There you go again, stroking my ego.”
“Warranted, I promise.”
He kissed her, then shifted slightly, pulling almost all the way out of her. But an errant realization slammed into him and Jude groaned.
“Oh, fuck. Kate.” He stared down at her. “I’m so sorry. I got carried away. I was totally reckless. I—”
“Jude,” she gripped his forearms.
“Kate. I’m not wearing a condom.”
“I know,” she said, giving him a small smile. “I felt it—all of it. You inside me. You coming inside me. It was… So good, Jude. So spectacular.”
“For me, too,” he said. Too good, too spectacular, really. He skipped over that. “I just—”
“Don’t worry,” she said, her expression relaxed. “I have an IUD. Additional protection for peace of mind.”
“Not often necessary?” he optimistically inquired with a quirked brow.
“Not often, Jude. Rarely ever, in fact.” She sighed. “I know it’s strange to hear someone say they can turn off the need for physical intimacy. It’s a deeply psychological manifestation that—”
“Yes?” Jude caustically prompted.
