Page 64 of Jude

I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, leaning on the counter.

‘I like cooking, Jude. Deal with it.’

Lifting his coffee mug, he locked his eyes with mine over the rim.

He studied my face with a quiet, intense scrutiny that made my heart rate spike, the blood rushing into my ears.

Emotion washed over me, a deep yearning for mornings like this for the rest of my life.

It felt dangerous, tangled in the presence of the man sitting across from me.

For three long seconds, neither of us looked away.

The silence between us thickened until the scorching heat of his gaze became too intense, and I sliced my eyes back to the polished marble counter.

‘Suit yourself,’ he muttered in a rougher rasp than usual as he set the mug down with a small clink.

He wiped his mouth with a serviette, washed his hands in the sink, and prowled towards the hallway.

He grabbed his car keys from the hook and paused to glance at me.

Our eyes clashed, and once more, I bit back a gasp at how much emotion coursed through me.

‘Later, babe. Enjoy your day off,’ he rasped, giving me a two-finger salute as he sauntered off, sexy as sin, as he left for work.

The front door closed, leaving me alone in his mansion.

It was a Friday.

I had the day off with The Sanctuary shut down for a long weekend, as it did every month, to give the social workers on staff a break.

I spent the morning cleaning, not because Jude asked or expected it, but because I wanted to.

Plus, I liked a clean home and enjoyed the exercise.

So I mopped the corridors, dusted the vaulted ceilings, and tidied the living area.

At one point, I came to the door of Jude’s primary bedroom.

It was his private space, and I was reluctant to touch it; however, my eye fell on a mound at the foot of his bed.

His hooded sweatshirt, the one he’d been wearing when we first met.

Before I could stop myself, I stepped into the bedroom and reached for it, sinking my face straight into the thick fabric.

It was redolent of his scent: rich musk, leather, spice, cedar, and his skin.

It was so evocative, I almost sank to my knees right there on his hardwood floor.

Biting my lip, I inched out of the room, unable to let it go.

I clutched the fleece to my chest, sneaking down the hall like a thief in the night.

Inside my guest room, I folded the black hoodie and tucked it deep under my pillow.

If I couldn’t sleep with him, at least I could go to sleep with his scent.

By midday, the Tennessee sun baked the backyard, prompting me to rummage around for the swimsuit and robe Maggie and I bought in Vermont.