“Me too, Jude.”
“And I really want to kiss you, but I don’t think you’ll allow that, will you?”
He can read me like a book. I want it too, if I’m being honest. I really want Jude Taylor to kiss me. It’s highly possible I want him to do more too, but that’s when I know it’s best to not.
Quick burning lust usually turns to ash before I’m ready for the party to end. No, I need the promise of a slow, long-burning flame that won’t go out when the first harsh wind blows.
That’s what Jude is—the promise of a really good time for a short amount of time.
“No,” I whisper, but the two letters trip over themselves on their way out my throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He licks his lips and I’m pulled to the motion, watching his tongue swipe along the seam, the way he rolls his lips inward and lets them fall back. With another swift move, his arms are around me and he holds me tight to him. He’s hugging me and it’s so cute, so sweet, I almost miss his groan as he bends and shoves his face in my neck.
“You’re killing me, Katie. But be warned, someday you’re going to want to kiss me, and I promise you now, I’m going to let you.”
Car lights pull up the street, and he loosens his hold on me. Slowly, I step away even though I don’t want to pull myself away from him.
He walks me to the Uber that pulls up out front and after a quick check of the license plate and ensuring the Uber sticker is affixed to the front window, I open the back door and wait for the driver to say my name.
When I turn back to Jude, he’s right there, chest right in front of my face, chin tipped down. He’s so damn handsome, he’s mesmerizing.
I want to kiss him. I want to feel his lips, the scrape of his beard, the weight of his body and the ability in all those muscles.
“Thanks for a good night, Jude.” I press my hand to his cheek and step back. “I had fun.”
“Don’t forget to text.”
I think of him all the way home and all the way to my bedroom. I think of Jude Taylor while I brush my teeth and remove my makeup. I think of him while I dress for bed and lay out my clothes for a morning that will be here far too soon.
When I’m finally in bed, I hesitate before texting him. It’s after three.
But I remember the way he looked at me when he insisted I let him know I’m safe. He means it. I don’t want to risk worrying him for no good reason, even if he probably fell asleep right after I left.
Home safe. Have a good practice tomorrow.
So much for him being asleep. He responds almost immediately, like he’s been waiting for my text.
Good. Another comes after. I still, really… really want to kiss you. When can I see you again?
Now. I think. But that’s foolish.
There’s not a chance of a future between us despite what a good guy he appears to be. And I’m done with the short-term meaningless flings. I want to find someone who matters. Who will last. I want stability and a nice calm life.
Jude’s life is completely antithetical to everything I want out of life.
It takes effort, but I don’t reply to the text.
Instead, I turn off my lamp, roll to the side, close my eyes, and try not to dream about Jude Taylor.
I fail.
Epically.
Chapter Four
It’s crunch time. Within a few days, my second-to-last semester of my undergraduate program is officially behind me. I’ve aced the two finals I’ve already taken, sealing my spot once again on the Dean’s List, but I still have two more finals to go.
To say I haven’t slept much in the last week is an understatement. At this point, I’m pretty sure only coffee and energy drinks are running through my veins.
Lizzie finished her finals this afternoon and decreed our apartment a party-fest for all of our friends who are either done with their finals or avoiding studying for their last few, so I’m hidden in the quietest corner of the campus library I can find, intent on staying until they kick me out in a few more hours.
My earbuds are filled with musical sounds from the focus app I downloaded to my phone, and while the noise takes some getting used to, I’m impressed with how well it works. I have protein bars hidden in my backpack along with one last energy drink to stay awake. Nothing can stop my focus from acing my genetics and final statistics class.
I barely catch movement to my side, just the hint of a shadow moving near me before a thump vibrates on my study table meant for four and a large, black backpack is set on the other side of the table from me.
I jump in my seat, taking out my AirPods to inform whoever it is I want to be alone only to freeze with my hand on one pod.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Jude, who lazily collapses into the chair across from me.
His light eyes zone in on me and those full lips lift into a smile. Darn. It’s only been a few days but I’ve already forgotten how absolutely good-looking he is.
“You haven’t returned my calls or texts, so I took drastic measures.”
Puh-lease. There were no drastic measures involved. He’s found me and only one person knows my favorite, zoned out, studying spot.
“How much did you have to give Lizzie to tell you?”
She’s been hanging at the hockey house since the night of the party. I didn’t even see her last weekend until she strolled through our door late Sunday night. She came home wearing flannel plaid pants eight sizes too large for her, courtesy of the hockey goalie, who I’ve now learned has a first name of Garrett. I’m not surprised she’s run into Jude a time or two, but I’ve resolved not to ask.
“I’m feeling highly underestimated here, Katie. Maybe she gave the information away simply because I charmed it out of her.”
If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t doubt his abilities to charm a girl with a smile and a wink, but I’ve known Lizzie too long. She’s too loyal.
“Kate,” I correct on instinct. His smile seems to widen. Despite needing to study and get back in the zone he’s so quickly destroyed, and because I’m no longer thinking of anything but the man across from me, I lean forward. “You bought her alcohol for tonight, didn’t you?”
He lifts his ball cap, swipes a hand through his long black hair and resettles the cap. “It’s possible. But dang, you are bad for my ego.”
“I think your ego is doing just fine.”
Jude places his hand to his chest and shakes his head. “Never again. Never again will I be the same. You wound me.”
He’s too much. Too good looking. Too smart. Too fun to be around. But he’ll also be gone too soon, and most likely leaving my heart in tatters if I don’t work to protect it.
Against my better judgment, I made the mistake of Googling Jude Taylor earlier this week. It came after the fifth text message and third missed call. I blame the red wine I had for making me turn to the internet to get my Jude fix.
Turns out he has every reason to be confident in his hockey abilities, and he definitely wasn’t exaggerating when he said he’s one of the top five most watched wingers. He’s the third born of four sons in the Taylor family. Their father, John Taylor, Sr. is a former New York Rangers player. His older brother, John Taylor, Jr. currently following their dad’s footsteps and playing for the Rangers. Jude has already been drafted to his older brother Jason’s team in North Carolina. And their youngest brother Joey is on a full-ride athletic scholarship to Wisconsin, where his first-year stats rival Jude’s current ones. Assuming Jude doesn’t get injured his last season here in Chicago, he’s primed to follow in his family’s footsteps.