Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (26 page)

Underneath his suit and his perfect hair, behind his gorgeous grey eyes and his dangerously sexy smile—beneath his
armor
that protects his heart—he’s someone I want. It scares me, but I like it. No, I love it. I love the way he makes my heart race and my insides burn. I love the way he holds me, the way he kisses me, the way he
looks
at me. No one has ever made me feel so alive, so desirable, and so special.

It’s been over four years since I’ve even allowed myself to fall for someone. I’m always so careful, keeping myself distant and unavailable. I don’t want to fight this, I don’t want to fight him—I want Judah. But can I trust him?

“Wait. Jude, stop,” I murmur against his lips.

He pulls away only enough for me to be able to breathe. “What?” he asks, tracing his nose against mine. His fresh minty breath is hot against my face, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at his lips. “Teddy?”

My eyes shoot up and lock with his, and I blurt out the question that’s on the tip of my tongue. “How do I know you won’t stand me up again? How do I know you won’t jump in bed with another woman when we have another…
misunderstanding?
”

“I won’t,” he simply states.

“But how do I know?”

“Because I’m telling you. I won’t.”

I shake my head at him, sliding my hands to his shoulders as I try pushing away from him. “Last night—”

“Last night was
last night
,” he insists, sliding one of his hands around the back of my neck, keeping me close. “Today, there are a new set of rules.”

“Rules of exclusivity?”

“Precisely,” he says, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of my neck.

“But I thought—I mean, you told me—” I can hardly think with the way he’s touching me, his eyes staring into mine. I shake my head clear and try again. “You don’t do relationships.”

“I have plenty of relationships, Teddy,” he quips.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“I want you, Theodora,” he says, gently squeezing my neck, sending a rush of tingles down my spine. “I want you and I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

I study him for a moment, trying and failing miserably not to latch onto his words. “I’m still not having sex with you,” I say, my voice so soft, even I can hardly hear it.

A sly smile pulls the corner of his mouth before he presses his against mine. “I’ve told you before, I’m capable of waiting. I’m not an animal.” He kisses me again. “Besides, as long as these lips are mine.” He kisses me once more. “
I’m not worried
,” he whispers.

I open my mouth to to speak, but I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting any of this; and yet he’s managed to tell me everything I didn’t know I wanted to hear. When he kisses me one last time before returning me to my feet, I realize that the truth is—even if I ran away from this, he’d still have me. He’s had me this whole time.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, reaching down to button his khakis.

“What?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Um…no, I haven’t. Not really.”

“Stay for breakfast. I’m going to put a shirt on. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

He turns away from me, headed to his room without even giving me a chance to agree. I watch him go, checking out the entire length of his backside until he’s out of sight. I bite my lip, fully aware that the last fifteen minutes are proof that he’s definitely an asshole.

But apparently he’s
my
asshole.

That thought makes me smile all the way to his kitchen.

W
hen I told Geoffrey that I had a date Sunday after church, he insisted that I come over for dinner, claiming I had a lot of explaining to do. He was right, so I didn’t argue. I arrived at his place the same time as the Chinese food delivery guy. As we sat down to eat, I told him everything. At first, he was pissed; but it wasn’t long before we were both laughing at the fact that Judah had mistaken us for a couple. Then we got into a debate about which one of us started our kissing habit. Neither of us could really remember, but we agreed that we were probably intoxicated the first couple of times.

I didn’t stay over late, wishing to get to bed early. A good night’s rest was definitely in order, and I was looking forward to church—in need of some Jesus time to keep my mind busy throughout the morning.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about how the afternoon will go. I know that over breakfast yesterday morning, he insisted that he planned on taking me out today, but I’ve heard that before.
Three days ago
. Until he knocks on my door, I’m just holding on to hope.

He didn’t tell me where he was taking me; but when he checked in last night, telling me when he would be by to pick me up, he told me he’d be in a suit. Remembering his closet, and considering the fact that I’ve never seen the man in a pair of jeans, his choice of attire gave me no clue as to where we’ll be going. Nevertheless, I decide if he’s wearing a suit, then I should probably be in a dress.

I pick out a sleeveless, pale blue, scalloped shift dress that hangs loosely around my small frame to my knees. I pair it with my nude, strappy heels, and complete my ensemble with a long necklace and a simple bracelet. I pull my hair back into a low ponytail, leaving out a couple strands to dangle around my face, and then I put on a fresh coat of mascara. My makeup is minimal, considering the time of day, and I take one last look at myself before I leave the bathroom—hoping I look okay.

Just as I’m folding a light sweater into my purse, there’s a knock on my door. My whole body tingles as my stomach fills with nervous butterflies. This is it. I’m about to go out on a date with Judah St. Michaels. I’m thrilled and terrified as I make my way to the door. Before I twist the handle, I take a quick look over my shoulder, just to make sure the view into my apartment isn’t in disarray, and then I open up.

He looks huge standing in the little alcove outside of my door—
huge
and
handsome
. Knowing that I’ll be spending the afternoon on the arm of this man makes me blush. He doesn’t say a word before his eyes travel slowly down my body and then back up again. When his gaze locks with mine, I have a fleeting thought that I didn’t need to worry about him looking inside my home. His eyes haven’t left me once.

My lips part and I suck in a silent breath as he leans down to kiss me. It’s certainly not our first kiss, but the feel of his lips pressed against mine still sends a rush through my entire body. When he pulls away, it takes me a second to open my eyes. When I do, I find him smiling down at me.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly, his deep voice as smooth as velvet.

“Thank you,” I manage. “You look nice, too.”

He takes a step back and offers me his elbow. “Shall we?”

I nod, shut and lock the door behind me, and then slide my hand around his arm. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going, now?”

“No.”

I look up at him. While he’s not looking at me, I can see the small smile on his face. It makes me smile, too. “You’re sort of mysterious, you know?”

“And you’ve come to this conclusion based on what facts?”

“Well, you won’t tell me where we’re going, for one,” I say as we step into the parking lot, heading for his Porsche.

“If I told you, it would spoil the suspense of not knowing.”

“So you like surprises?”

“No,” he announces, opening up the passenger side door for me.

I look up at him, tilting my head to the side as I study his relaxed face. “Mysterious
and
confusing.”

“Gorgeous
and
inquisitive,” he murmurs, reaching up to trace a finger along my jaw. “Get in, or you’ll never know what I’ve planned for you.”

I’m quick to obey, my curiosity making me anxious to get out of here. He closes me in, wasting no time before sliding into the seat next to mine and starting the engine. We’re just pulling out of my apartment complex, and already I want to ask him where we’re going again. It’s one-thirty on a Sunday afternoon, and we’re not going to lunch. Given that I’ve lived in this town for four years, and he’s lived here for seven
months
, I’m thinking that I should have a better awareness of the possibilities than I do.

“Are we staying in town?” I ask, wondering if he’ll give me a hint.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he replies with a smirk.

I try to fight my smile, but to no avail. In all honesty, there’s something about the secretive nature of this date that makes it that much more fun. He’s playing with me, and that fills me with a giddy sort of happiness.

“Are you planning on avoiding all of my questions, or just the ones about our destination?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Your other questions.”

I gaze at his profile for a moment, trying to think of the most obsolete question I can come up with. A grin spreads across my face when I think of the perfect one. “What’s your favorite color?” I ask.

He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at me with a lifted eyebrow. “My favorite
color?
I don’t think anyone has asked me that since I was ten.”

“Well then, you’re
long
overdue.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me. “I don’t have a favorite color, Teddy.”

“Everyone has a favorite color,” I argue.

“Then what’s yours?”

“Teal,” I answer, not even stopping to think about it.

“I see. Well, I still maintain that I don’t have a favorite.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Oh, I’m lots of fun,” he murmurs, his voice drenched in sexual innuendo. He reaches over and curls his long fingers around the bare skin of my leg, just above my knee. The heat of his touch spreads, making me short of breath. “You’ll see.”

For a moment, my mind is at war with my body. Part of me wishes to deny what he seems to be implying. I’m sure I’m not ready to have sex with him, a fact I’ve reiterated more than once. And yet, his warm, smooth hand on my leg feels sensational. To say that I don’t want more of his touch—well, that would be a lie. So instead, I change the direction of our conversation all together.

“Um—so, what’s your favorite book?” I mutter.

“
Fight Club
.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “Great movie!”

He looks over at me and delivers a frown before he says, “Decent adaptation, notable casting—
better book
.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say with a giggle, pleasantly amused by his passionate response. “I’ve never read it.”

“You should,” he states simply.

“I think I will. My favorite is
Pride and Prejudice
.”

“How…
romantic
of you,” he quips.

“Don’t make fun,” I insist. “It’s a classic. Besides—there’s something so lovely about Darcy.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

I suck in a sharp breath, my mouth falling open as my eyes grow wide in shock. “You’ve never read it?” He shakes his head
no
. “Didn’t they make you? In high school or something?” He shakes his head again. “Oh, my goodness. You’re missing out. You should definitely read it.”

“What will you give me if I do?” he asks, giving my leg a gentle squeeze.

“Jane Austen requires no bribe.”

“Perhaps not, but my way is more
fun
.”

“Does this mean I’ll get something if I read
Fight Club
?” He nods once, slowly. “Okay,” I say, deciding to play along. I’m sure I’ll live to regret it, but right now, I really don’t care. “What do you want?”

“I’m sure you know the answer to that question already.”

I dip my head as my cheeks grow warm with a slight blush, his hand on my leg suddenly making me hot. “Allow me to rephrase that,” I murmur. “What do you want that I’ll actually give you?”

“
When
I’ve read your favorite book, I get to touch you wherever I want.”

In an instant, I replay all the ways he’s touched me up until now; then my mind races toward a forbidden place—my imagination dancing around all the ways in which I wish he would touch me. If his hand was making me hot before, it’s setting me on fire now.

“That’s it?” I ask, my voice sounding airier than before. “You get to touch me—that’s the deal?”