Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (21 page)

“Oh,” I mutter, tilting my head as I stare at him, at a loss for words.
Again.
“You—I—I wasn’t, I mean, you didn’t—”

“It’s no trouble,” he says before I can figure out what I’m trying to say.

“Uh…thank you.” This time I sigh audibly, knowing that no matter how well we got to know each other last night, it’s stupid of me to think that I can be anything other than a stuttering fool when I speak to him
before
coffee. “By any chance could I get one of those?” I ask timidly, pointing at his mug. “Unless you need me to leave. Shit. I’m sorry—should I get my things?”

He chuckles as he stands, and the combination of that sound with the sight of that body is so deadly, I can only handle one at a time. I look away from him, trying to take in the details of the room, and failing miserably—my body fully aware of his approach.

“There’s time for coffee.” He stops when he’s standing right beside me, but he doesn’t speak or move. When I look up at him, he offers me a lopsided smile before he leans down and plants a solid kiss on my lips. “There’s always time for coffee,” he whispers before exiting the room.

I follow after him, my shy smile from earlier returning to my face. This time, I don’t try and hide it. As he makes me a cup of coffee, he asks me if I’d like anything for breakfast. I decline on account that he has done far too much for me already. Honestly, I’m surprised by the lengths that he’s gone to show me such genteel hospitality. He did tell me that he considered himself a gentleman, and I admit I’ve seen glimpses of it before, but this is not at all what I expected when I called him last night.

We chat idly about breakfast foods while I enjoy my morning brew. I tell him about my small obsession with Brandon’s blueberry crumble muffin. When he informs me that he’s not tried it, I make him promise me that he will. He does, which makes me happy for some reason, and then he tells me he’s going to get dressed. When he returns, in a pair of khakis and a polo shirt, he carries my purse and my favorite yellow heels. I can’t even begin to describe how ridiculous I feel when I slide my feet into the shoes and look down at myself—still swallowed up by his shorts and t-shirt. I can only hope and pray that nobody other than Geoff sees me like this.

“I’m practically a PSA announcement, showcasing how real the walk of shame is,” I mumble.

Jude laughs, which makes my lips twitch in a small smile.

“Teddy, I’m sure you don’t know the meaning of shame. I look forward to teaching you,” he says with a wink. He jingles his keys in his pocket, tilting his head toward the stairs. “Ready?” I swallow, ignoring the accelerated beat of my heart at his implication, then nod and follow him to his Porsche.

We don’t talk much as I give him directions to Geoffrey’s place. When we arrive, I assure him that he doesn’t have to wait on me. It’s ten in the morning, and I’m fairly confident I’ll find Geoff inside. Besides, I refuse to ask him to do another thing for me.

Just as I’m getting ready to climb out of the car, he reaches over and gently grabs hold of my thigh. “I haven’t forgotten our arrangement,” he says once my eyes find his. “I’ve already got one day under my belt, as you know I didn’t have sex with anyone last night. Six more days, and then you’re mine for the evening.”

I smile, feeling reassured by his declaration, like his words make last night more than a dream. “It’s a date.”

I rap my knuckles against Geoffrey’s front door, looking down the hall to ensure that there is no one around to see me. My focus shifts back to the door when I hear a string of expletives coming from the other side as the deadbolt slides unlocked and the barrier between us swings wide open.

“
Jesus,
Teddy! Where the hell have you been?” I open my mouth to respond, but all the wind gets knocked out of me when my Viking pulls me into his arms and crushes me against his chest. “I swear to God, I was ten minutes away from coming over to your apartment and kicking the damn door down. Andy and I have been trying to get a hold of you since last night. You scared the shit out of me. What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

I close my eyes and breathe him in, wrapping my arms around him to return his crushing embrace. Moments like this, I’m reminded that while my circle of friends is quite small, I’ve got the best people imaginable looking out for me and loving me just the way I need. I’m so incredibly blessed to call this man my best friend—especially when he’s being over-protective like he is now.

“I’m fine, babe. I was a bit of a ditz last night, and I locked my phone in the gallery. Then, like an idiot, I locked my keys in my car. You have my spare, and I didn’t know how to reach you, so I was kind of stranded.”

“Freckles, it rained half the night,” he says in a huff, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me away from him. He doesn’t let me go as he looks me up and down. “What did you do? More importantly—” He stops, his brow furrowed as he gives me a proper once-over. “Whose clothes are you currently swimming in?”

For a fraction of a second, I try fighting my smile. I lose, of course, knowing that he’s going to flip his shit as soon as the truth is out. “They’re Judah’s,” I answer softly.

I watch as his blue eyes grow wide in pure shock. “Get your skinny, little ass in here, baby girl. You’ve got
a lot
of explaining to do.” He turns and marches his way into his condo, and I follow, shutting the door behind me. I discard my purse on the table he’s got just beyond the door, kicking off my shoes in the process.

Being inside of Geoffrey’s home after spending a night in Judah’s feels like night and day. Where Jude’s style is more rugged chic, Geoffrey is very modern and sleek—lots of white, light grey, and navy. It’s cool in comparison, but it’s the man who lives here that makes it inviting and comfortable. Though, the absence of Reeve is still felt as I make my way through the living room toward the kitchen.

“Have you eaten? Now that I’m sure you’re alive and well, I’m famished.”

“I could eat,” I tell him. Making myself at home, I go to the cabinet that houses his mugs and grab one for myself. His pot of coffee is still half full, so I pour myself a cup and then pop it into the microwave while he goes about making his signature breakfast dish—spinach, Swiss, and mushroom omelets. Without fail, if he’s making breakfast, we’ll be having omelets. He never gets any complaints from me. They are always quite tasty.

“That coffee ain’t free, baby girl. I want details,” he demands, looking at me from over his shoulder as I take my piping hot brew and lean up against the counter beside him.

After my first sip, I decide to add a little cream. Geoff always has the good stuff, so as I begin to tell him about how I ended up at Judah’s house, I doctor my coffee until it’s just right. I’m sure to include the fact that my evening began with no flower delivery, which contributed greatly to my reluctance to call the gorgeous man. Then, for the most part, I divulge all Geoffrey could want to hear. I even gush about Jude’s closet.

When I get to the part about our after dinner activities, I find myself slowing down. He notices, arching an eyebrow at me expectantly before he plates our breakfast.

“So that’s it? The man made you dinner and you
talked
for the rest of the night.”

“Not exactly,” I murmur, snatching my plate away from him before taking a seat at his round kitchen table.

He joins me, handing me a fork as he sits. “Did he make a move? I mean, damn, I know you’re great company, Teddy, but the man wants you. Don’t tell me he didn’t make a move.”

“He made a move,” I admit before shoving a bite of egg into my mouth.

When Geoff grins at me, I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him.

“I know you’re a lady,
Theodora Rose
, so I’m not looking for all the gory details—but you have to tell me…”

I bob my head as I finish chewing my bite. “Better than I ever imagined it could be,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth as soon as it’s empty.

“Fuck, yes!” he practically growls as he lunges for me. He cups my face in his hands and smacks a kiss against my forehead. “Just call me proud papa, baby girl.”

With a laugh, I bat his hands away from me, wiggling out of his grasp. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I assume, since you’re still in his clothes, that you’ll be seeing each other again?”

“Next week, I think,” I reply hopefully, remembering our recent goodbye.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I think that counts as date number three.”

I roll my eyes at him. “
No
. This will definitely be our first date.”

“He’s made it to first base. I’m calling it date three,” he argues before taking a bite.

I think about last night, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel
alive
in ways I don’t ever remember feeling. It’s been so long since I’ve shared any type of real physical intimacy with a man, and I’m not entirely certain what base we made it to last night—but something tells me he rounded first base and kept going.

And I let him
.

I don’t tell Geoff what I’m thinking, content to keep my memories just that.
Mine
.

Well—not entirely mine, but ours.

Mine and Judah’s.

M
onday morning, after my alarm clock sounds, I lie in bed for a minute. It’s been two nights since I’ve had a woman in my bed—
eight
since I’ve had a
naked
woman in my bed—and yet, the one who occupies my mind in this moment is the one I’ve yet to touch.

I look at the empty pillow that was once covered in her full head of hair. When I spot a single lock still clinging to the case, I grab it, wrapping the long strand around my finger as I try and figure out what it is about her that has me so intrigued. I’m aware how much my body desires her. That was clear from the moment I laid eyes on her lithe, gorgeous body. I wish to ravish her—to own her—to
break
her in ways that will leave her begging for me. I want to see her face as she crumbles under the ecstasy of her pleasure. I want to
hear
her moan. I’ve heard the soft sounds of her enjoyment, but I sense there is so much more in her.

She’s a shy creature. She lacks the confidence that I usually look for; yet, her tendency to blush and ramble when she’s nervous or embarrassed is more alluring than off-putting, and I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s her eyes—her stunning, brown eyes—full of—of—
fuck
, I don’t even know. It’s not innocence that I see. Whatever it is, I think it could be
mistaken
for innocence—but, despite her age, there is something there that she keeps hidden. I think of her tattoos, of the little she told me about them, and I know that she carries with her
something—
something that has managed to grab my attention, at the very least.

Assholes aren’t born, they’re made
.

She understands the nature of man—the reality that we’re perhaps more vulnerable than we’d like anyone to believe. Some men succumb to that vulnerability, making them weak. Others, like myself, embrace it—manipulating it to work in our favor. I won’t pretend to know how she spotted the darkness in
me
, calling me out on my shit in a way no woman has before. But I know that does not speak of any type of
innocence
. Yet, there’s something about her—something that has me convinced she’s untouched. I wouldn’t go so far as to assume she’s a virgin. Not at her age. Not with the way she let me kiss her the other night.

She wants me. Whatever
morals
she’s holding onto, her body doesn’t lie. In the gallery. At the restaurant. Wrapped in my arms. It doesn’t matter where we are, I feel the slow burn of her fire every time I touch her.

Goddammit.

I throw the sheets from over me and get out of bed. She’s got me thinking with the wrong head. I’m sure once she has wet my dick, I’ll figure out that there isn’t some big mystery here after all. I probably just need to get her out of my system. It’s not as if I can adequately explain why she’s any different or better than any other female who has frequented my bed.

With a sigh, I head to my closet and dress for a workout. If there’s one thing I know for sure, I don’t let any woman possess my mind. I played that game with Aubrey, the whore, and lost. I won’t lose again.