Wilde Nights in Paradise (Wilde Security #1)

Chapter Seven

She couldn’t move. She was never going to be able to move again. And she was perfectly okay with that.

As the first rays of sunlight peaked through the trees and dappled the sex-rumpled sheets with dancing shadows, Jude lifted his head from the pillow where he had collapsed after the latest round of wall-pounding sex. His breathing still hadn’t quite settled—for that matter, neither had hers—and his hair stuck up in charming bedhead spikes. Probably didn’t help any that she had spent hours last night tugging at it, dragging her fingers through it. All that dark, rakishly long hair was soft as a kitten’s coat, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Even now, she had to fight the urge to run her fingers through the strands one more time.

Scowling, he squinted toward the wall of windows. “Shit,” he muttered and stuffed his face back into the pillow, muffling another curse.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s morning.”

Libby watched the palms in the garden sway to a gentle morning breeze. Tried to tell herself that the bitter mix of emotion in the pit of her stomach wasn’t disappointment. “Yes, it is.”

“So it’s over.”

She rolled her lips together and made sure her voice was steady before speaking. “Yes. It’s over.”

“Unless…” He turned his head on the pillow. Brows raised over hopeful eyes the same color as the morning sky outside the window. “We make it a full twenty-four-hour deal?”

Tempting. But if she gave in, she’d always give in. She was well aware she had a weakness where Jude Wilde was concerned, and she couldn’t let it get the better of her. Not again. Living through that heartbreak once in a lifetime was enough, thank you very much. “No. One night. That’s all.”

“That’s what I thought.” He sighed and pushed himself upright, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “All right.”

All right? That was all he had to say? Just…all right? She’d expected a protest, possibly a fight. At the very least, a complaint. Not this easy acceptance. He had to be plotting something devious. “What are you up to, Jude?”

“Right now, I’m going to shower. Unless you want it first?”

She shook her head.

“Okay. Shower, then I’m gonna eat something and crash for a couple hours. It was a long night.” He spoke of it as if he’d spent the night at work, on a stakeout or whatever else he and his brothers did at that security office, rather than making love to her.

No, she corrected herself. Sex. There had been no lovemaking between them—nothing gentle or tender, and that was exactly what she’d wanted. So she had no reason to feel hurt about his blithe compliance with her wishes. None whatsoever. The burning sensation behind her eyelids was just from lack of sleep.

Jude stood and stretched his arms high over his head, his back arching, arms and shoulders flexing. God, he had a magnificent body. All sinewy muscle with just a faint dusting of dark hair in all the right spots. Highlighted by the sunshine, his body was a gilded work of masculine art that no straight woman in her right mind would be able to resist.

And that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? No woman could resist him, and he used that power to his full advantage.

An intricate tribal tattoo followed the entire length of his spine and flared out into broken angel wings on his shoulders. A pair of dog tags hung from one wing, a pair of ballet slippers from the other, and on closer inspection, she realized it wasn’t some abstract tribal design picked off the wall of a tattoo parlor. It had meaning, symbolized something important to him.

“Are all those swirls words?”

He glanced over his shoulder, confusion lining his forehead until he realized what she was referring to. “Yeah.”

She squinted. Without her glasses, it was impossible to read from this distance, but when she tried to scoot across the bed to get a better look, he turned around.

“What does it say?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Okay. Sore subject. Even as curiosity niggled at her, she promised herself she wouldn’t ask about the tattoo again.

Jude crossed to his still-packed bag and unzipped it. “I know I said we had to share the bed, but I was just being an ass. You can have it. I don’t mind the couch.”

Another surprise. What was this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers ? “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

He found a pair of shorts and a shirt, tossed them both over one shoulder, and straightened. “What?”

“What?” she echoed.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve never seen me before.”

“Oh.” Maybe because she was starting to get the feeling that she hadn’t seen him before. Not really. She made herself look away, down—anywhere but at him—and realized she was still naked. She snatched the bedsheet up and hugged it to her breasts. “You just look different. Not like I remember.”

“I’m older,” he said.

“So am I. I have to ask, what’s with the earring?”

“Got it last week to piss Reece off.”

Now that was a typical Jude response. Maybe this was less pod person and more a bad case of the morning afters. Under normal circumstances, right now would probably be about the time he made his usual quick escape. Instead, he was stuck here with her, and his uncertainty about what to do next showed through the cracks in his charm, which had always been at its thinnest in the mornings.

As much as she enjoyed watching him squirm, she figured she should let him off the hook. “Go shower. I want to eat first anyway. I’m starving.”

With a weak smile, he all but bolted into the bathroom. She waited until she heard the beat of the water spray against the shower walls before climbing out of bed and finding something to wear in her own bag.

If he wanted to act like she was just one more notch on his bedpost, fine. Because that was all he was to her—a notch, a good time, a lay.

Yup , she thought as she padded out to the kitchen. Jude Wilde meant nothing to her. Nothing at all.