Page 63 of Jude

The thud of footsteps echoed on the floor, and Jude entered the room.

I braced and flicked an uneasy glance at him, my heart jolting at how handsome he was.

He had on a gray cotton tee that stretched tight across his broad shoulders.

A colored scarf hung around his neck, and he wore blue jeans and brown leather boots.

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet, his cologne so damn evocative.

‘Morning,’ he drawled.

‘Hi,’ I replied, canting my eyes back to the spatula in my hand.

I sensed the heat of his gaze on me as he studied my face.

Unable to stop, I peeked up at him and found him narrowing his eyes at me with a touch of concern.

I bit my tongue, reminding myself to honor his request from last night.

We were not going to discuss the mistake.

‘We OK, Sofia?’

I took a deep inhale at his timbred growl, forcing my shoulders up, and shot him a smile. ‘Yes, we are.’

‘Good,’ he said, his posture relaxing a fraction. ‘I’m sorry about what I said, or the extent I let it go. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

‘OK,’ I whispered, regardless of the need pulsing through me.

What else could I say?

That I should not have allowed it to get that far?

Even if I wanted it so bad?

I kept my face neutral, hiding the pain lancing through my chest.

I questioned my own expectations for the tenth time, wanting to have it out with him.

Still, I refused to become clingy and risk our fragile situationship becoming even more awkward.

He pulled out a bar stool, his eyes inspecting the platters of food.

I handed him a plate and a cup of black coffee.

‘Thanks babe.’

He took a small pause, then went on.

‘You’ve been busy,’ he said, taking a bite of the cheesy pockets I made him for breakfast.

‘What is it?’ he mumbled, staring in awe at the food in his hand.

‘It’s panzerotti pugliesi, golden, deep-fried yeast dough stuffed with salsiccia Italian pork sausage and melted mozzarella.’

He chewed, a nod of genuine satisfaction breaking through his stoic expression.

‘This rocks, Sofia, but I want to make one thing clear. You don’t have to play the maid here. There’s no expectation that you’re going to cook for me every day. I survive on Nari’s platters, takeaway, and delivery apps most of the time.’