Page 79 of Jude

Jude was striding toward me in white drawstring pajama bottoms.

His chest, with its enticing array of muscles, was bare and rippling, adorned only by his chains and jewelry.

His shaggy hair was sexy and messy from sleep, and his jade gaze was on me.

Our eyes locked, and my soul jolted.

‘Hey,’ I whispered.

‘Hey, you.’

‘I got breakfast going.’

‘I see that,’ he growled, straddling the bench across from me. ‘Thank you, wife.’

Why was this man so delicious? I asked myself as I took him in.

While now more generous with his smiles, the rare hug, and his hand on the small of my back when walking beside me, he’d not initiated any overtures toward intimacy since we made love.

He kept things friendly and cordial.

It did nothing to tamp down the fire, the need, and the yearning I had for him.

Sex with Judah had rewired my entire system, with a hunger for him.

I longed for him, wanting to stroke his hair, sink my hands into those thick strands, pull his face down to mine, and kiss him senseless.

I wanted him inside me, stroking in and out of me, driving me to ecstasy.

I craved to whisper in his ear how hot I found him, but I did nothing of the sort.

I’d begged once for him, never again.

I refused to allow myself to be desperate, clingy, and needy, like one of the groupies who chased the Six Sinners after a show.

I had my pride, and so I kept my distance, even if the craving between us was burning me alive.

He squinted at the sun, then reached for the sunglasses perched on his head.

He slid the aviators on, and I damn near sighed.

I shifted my gaze to my food.

‘Eat,’ I breathed, gesturing at the eggs, fruit, toast, and coffee in a thermos.

His mouth twitched. ‘Thanks babe.’

Reaching for a plate, he piled it high and poured an espresso.

The groan of pleasure he gave me a few moments later was all the reward I needed.

I found myself looking forward to yet another day hanging out with my husband.

I’d come to discover that he was a homebody; he liked being home.

‘My clubbing days are long gone,’ he once told me. ‘Besides, after touring, the last thing I need is crowds, the reek of alcohol and loud music; I get enough of it on the road.’

So he spent his free time with me, laid-back about my presence in his home.