wanting Jude, needing him , in a way she hadn’t experienced since before Davis had gotten sick.
Shame should consume her. But her craving for his touch was about the only emotion she’d been able to conjure in over two years. The crying spells had dissipated and had taken everything with them.
To confirm—once again—she lifted her fork to her mouth and tasted Millie’s homemade cherry tart. Sadly, the dessert that used to make her moan tasted like chalk on her useless taste buds. She took one more bite and forced a smile when she caught Millie staring from across the table.
“It’s delicious,” Naomi said, then sipped on her champagne... champagne to celebrate Millie and her husband’s new home. Naomi knew she didn’t sound sincere, but what else could she do? The ten friends who sat at the table had stuck by her through everything. They’d kept inviting her to their parties, no matter that she was no longer the fun, outgoing person she’d used to be. She owed them her sanity.
Millie gave her that knowing look, raised eyebrows and a thin smile. She’d always seen right through Naomi. “Glad you like it. Now help me clear the dishes.”
“Right.” Naomi looked around to see everyone else’s plates were empty while three quarters of her tart and her chicken entrée remained.
She stood and reached for Jude’s plate, unintentionally brushing her breast against his shoulder. Jude jolted his attention up, branding her with light, pear-green eyes. She stumbled backward. His reflexes were fast enough to grab her wrist and steady her before she fell against the chair.
“Sorry,” Naomi said, getting her footing and averting her gaze to his plate. “Can you hand me that?”
“You okay?” His voice was low and deep, only for her. The question had become a mantra between them.
“Yes. Fine.” She made eye contact to assure him.
Bad idea.
His hand on her wrist was warm, and as his thumb brushed the inside of her arm, she squelched a sigh. A touch like this should be harmless, yet her body ached for more. It had been so long since she’d felt affection from a man. And Jude was such a fine man. Carefully bridled intensity hid behind his alluring eyes. Powerfully sculpted lips frowned with concern for her.
Always concern.
“Do you need help?” He released her, gathering his neighbor’s plate and stacking it on top of his.
Yes. Lots of help . “No. I’m fine.” Fine, fine, fine. Life was all around fine.
She succeeded in collecting a few dishes, then strode from the room before she did something she might regret. Like, say, intentionally brushing other body parts against him. Poor man didn’t know he was in danger of being assaulted.
Millie waited in the kitchen with a goofy grin.
“What?” Naomi set the dishes down and fanned her heated face.
“I saw you almost fall over Jude. When are you going to tell him you have the hots for him?”
“Tomorrow. Or more like never.” No point in denying the attraction. Naomi had shared her thoughts about Jude with Millie after one too many martinis one night about a month ago.
“Notice how he keeps checking the time on his phone?” Millie asked.
“Yes. I heard him tell Michael he has a date.”
“Another date, another bimbo.” Millie rolled her eyes.
“Who still says bimbo?” Naomi smiled.
“Listen to me, honey buns.” Millie playfully whipped a kitchen towel at Naomi’s backside. “Don’t wait until he finds a bimbo who sticks. You should talk to him tonight before he leaves.”
“Tonight?”
“Absolutely. You so deserve to get laid. By him.”
Naomi listened as laughter roared from the other room. Thankfully, their friends were a loud bunch and couldn’t hear this conversation.
“I thought about it,” Naomi admitted. “I could ask him for a mercy lay.” She laughed halfheartedly.
“Please. Have you looked in the mirror in, say, ever? You’re hot, Nay. That dress. Scorching. It’s one of your designs,
Shame should consume her. But her craving for his touch was about the only emotion she’d been able to conjure in over two years. The crying spells had dissipated and had taken everything with them.
To confirm—once again—she lifted her fork to her mouth and tasted Millie’s homemade cherry tart. Sadly, the dessert that used to make her moan tasted like chalk on her useless taste buds. She took one more bite and forced a smile when she caught Millie staring from across the table.
“It’s delicious,” Naomi said, then sipped on her champagne... champagne to celebrate Millie and her husband’s new home. Naomi knew she didn’t sound sincere, but what else could she do? The ten friends who sat at the table had stuck by her through everything. They’d kept inviting her to their parties, no matter that she was no longer the fun, outgoing person she’d used to be. She owed them her sanity.
Millie gave her that knowing look, raised eyebrows and a thin smile. She’d always seen right through Naomi. “Glad you like it. Now help me clear the dishes.”
“Right.” Naomi looked around to see everyone else’s plates were empty while three quarters of her tart and her chicken entrée remained.
She stood and reached for Jude’s plate, unintentionally brushing her breast against his shoulder. Jude jolted his attention up, branding her with light, pear-green eyes. She stumbled backward. His reflexes were fast enough to grab her wrist and steady her before she fell against the chair.
“Sorry,” Naomi said, getting her footing and averting her gaze to his plate. “Can you hand me that?”
“You okay?” His voice was low and deep, only for her. The question had become a mantra between them.
“Yes. Fine.” She made eye contact to assure him.
Bad idea.
His hand on her wrist was warm, and as his thumb brushed the inside of her arm, she squelched a sigh. A touch like this should be harmless, yet her body ached for more. It had been so long since she’d felt affection from a man. And Jude was such a fine man. Carefully bridled intensity hid behind his alluring eyes. Powerfully sculpted lips frowned with concern for her.
Always concern.
“Do you need help?” He released her, gathering his neighbor’s plate and stacking it on top of his.
Yes. Lots of help . “No. I’m fine.” Fine, fine, fine. Life was all around fine.
She succeeded in collecting a few dishes, then strode from the room before she did something she might regret. Like, say, intentionally brushing other body parts against him. Poor man didn’t know he was in danger of being assaulted.
Millie waited in the kitchen with a goofy grin.
“What?” Naomi set the dishes down and fanned her heated face.
“I saw you almost fall over Jude. When are you going to tell him you have the hots for him?”
“Tomorrow. Or more like never.” No point in denying the attraction. Naomi had shared her thoughts about Jude with Millie after one too many martinis one night about a month ago.
“Notice how he keeps checking the time on his phone?” Millie asked.
“Yes. I heard him tell Michael he has a date.”
“Another date, another bimbo.” Millie rolled her eyes.
“Who still says bimbo?” Naomi smiled.
“Listen to me, honey buns.” Millie playfully whipped a kitchen towel at Naomi’s backside. “Don’t wait until he finds a bimbo who sticks. You should talk to him tonight before he leaves.”
“Tonight?”
“Absolutely. You so deserve to get laid. By him.”
Naomi listened as laughter roared from the other room. Thankfully, their friends were a loud bunch and couldn’t hear this conversation.
“I thought about it,” Naomi admitted. “I could ask him for a mercy lay.” She laughed halfheartedly.
“Please. Have you looked in the mirror in, say, ever? You’re hot, Nay. That dress. Scorching. It’s one of your designs,
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