Shoving through the door, I pulled him along. “Dinner sounds good,” I said, pulling him faster down the hall, until we’d passed the elevators and nurses’ desk. “But I’ve got a better idea.” Pausing at the last door at the end of the hall, I slid inside and gave it a quick once-over. It was empty, and had a lock on the door and a freshly made hospital bed against the window.
“I’m all for better ideas, Luce,” Jude said as I pulled him inside, “but what does sneaking into a hospital room have to do with it?”
Locking the door behind us, I shoved him up against the wall.
“This,” I said, kissing him. Hard.
“Better idea,” he said in between my frantic lips. My hands grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged it over my head. “Much better idea.”
His shirt was the next one off, and then his fingers were releasing my bra. His hands skimmed around the front, covering my breasts.
“Shit, Luce.” Jude pulled away from me, and his eyes dropped to where his hands had just been. They widened. “What the hell?”
“Being pregnant has its advantages,” I said, glancing down where my baby Cs had blossomed into full-on Ds in the wake of baby making.
“Hell yes, it does,” he said, lifting his hands back into position.
“Plus, I’ve got increased sex drive,” I added with a wink. “We’re talking crazed, panting, do-me-in-the-morning-afternoon-and-evening kind of increased sex drive.”
“If I don’t get inside you soon, I’m going to bust something,” he said, lifting me up and beelining for the bed. “Your huge tits and your dirty mouth are doing a number on me.”
“Well, you’d better hurry then,” I said, kissing his neck as my hand slid inside the front of his pants.
“Shit, baby, I’m serious.” He groaned when my hand tightened around him.
“So am I,” I replied, gliding my hand down him.
Then he had me on the bed and was crawling into the space between my legs. His face took on a serious expression all of a sudden.
“Can we be doing this?” he said, still breathing heavily. “With you being pregnant and all?”
If we didn’t do this I was fairly sure I’d burst into flames. I grabbed the top button of his jeans and tugged it free. “Does it seem weird to you that you want to abstain from the act that made the baby because of the baby?” I made quick work of his zipper.
“You’re talking over my head again,” he said.
“Then why don’t you just shut up and make love to your wife already?” Grabbing the waist of his jeans, I tugged them down.
“Okay.” His fingers slid inside my panties and he pulled them down my legs. The skirt would have to stay, because I couldn’t wait any longer. “Let’s see how Mrs. Ryder is in bed.”
Hovering over me, Jude braced his arms around me and lowered his chest until it smashed against mine. A stupid little grin formed on his face.
“I think I can get used to these things, Luce.”
I lifted my hips until I could feel him hard against me. “Enough talking. Not enough screwing.”
His dopey smile morphed into something else when he pushed himself inside me. I’d been so ready for him he sank all the way in. His mouth dropped to my neck, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, torturing me with each slow kiss as he stayed unmoving.
“Be nice,” I said, trying to flex my hips against his, but he had me pinned. I was at his mercy. “I’m your wife, after all.”
Jude gave my neck one final nip before his face moved above mine. “When you put it that way,” he said, staring hard into my eyes as he slid back—and, just when I thought he was pulling out all the way, he thrust back inside.
My arm flailed to the side, winding around the metal bedrail for support. It appeared that along with increased sex drive came a decreased thrust count until orgasm.
My other hand dug into his backside, curling into his flesh as he pulsed in and out of me.
“I can’t wait, baby.” I moaned as he rocked inside me again, already feeling my climax coming on.
“I can’t either,” he panted, picking up his pace until my moans came at the same time as his low groan. His fingers wove through mine on the bedrail as I pulsed around him.
Wrapping his arms around me, Jude rolled over and cradled me to him. His breathing was just as labored as mine as our chests rose and fell to the same count.
“I love you, Luce Ryder,” he breathed, running his fingers up and down my back.
“I love you, Jude Ryder.” I looked up at him. “So . . . how was Mrs. Ryder in bed?”
That same stupid smile broke over his face. “Fucking fantastic.”
I chuckled into the crook of his arm. “Good thing. Since you’re going to be stuck making love to her until you shrivel up and die.”
“Good thing,” he said, sounding happy, satisfied, and tired. That was a powerful combo.
“So, Mr. Jude Ryder.” I lifted my head from his chest and pretended to talk into a microphone ceremoniously. “You just got hitched at the age of twenty-one, will be changing your baby’s diapers before you turn twenty-two, and just had your honeymoon on a hospital bed.” I held out the imaginary mike. “How do you feel?”
“Like the luckiest damn bastard in the world.”
I could relate.
“Well put,” I said. “Very convincing.”
He ran his fingers through my hair and stared at me like I was the most special thing in the world to him. “I must be convincing. I got you to say yes a few minutes ago, didn’t I?”
I thought of all the ways he’d gotten me to a yes. That first day at the beach, when I’d known he wasn’t good for me but couldn’t stay away. That morning at my locker, when he’d gotten me to say yes to going to Homecoming with him. His proposal at the fifty-yard line in front of fifty thousand fans. And finally, at the altar becoming his wife, when I couldn’t say yes fast enough.
“Yeah, Jude,” I said. “You sure did.”
EPILOGUE
Jude was at the fifty-yard line again, being cheered on by tens of thousands of fans, but this time it was a few games into his second season playing for the Chargers.
I was still in the front-and-center seat, cheering along with the rest of the fans.
But this time our wiggling, cooing six-month-old baby girl was on my lap. No surprise she’d had her own agenda when it came to what day she wanted to come out and meet the big world. Jude and I were her parents, after all. She was born three weeks early, and I don’t know if Jude breathed the entire twelve hours of my delivery. But he never left my side. When she finally came out, Jude could barely look away from her long enough to cut the cord. He’d cried his second tear that day. And his third, and maybe even a fourth when the doctor said our girl was perfectly healthy.
After fall semester, I moved out to San Diego to be with Jude. To have our baby and figure out our future. After she was born, life had been crazy, but I’d just enrolled in a few courses at a local college that would count toward my degree, so, slowly but surely, I’d get it done. Finishing my degree was more a matter of pride and stubborn resolve.
We’d named our little girl Annalise Marie Ryder. It wasn’t a family name; nor had we agonized over selecting just the right meaning. Jude had fallen in love with the name one night when we’d been scanning baby-name books, like, really fallen in love with it. I knew he would have backed down if I said I didn’t like it or wanted a different name, but Jude had a grand total of zero blood relatives in his life anymore. He’d earned the right to name the little girl who was half his DNA and would be forever in his life.
So Annalise Marie it was. She looked like me, but had her daddy’s gray eyes, and could form expressions at six months that were eerily identical to Jude’s.
Speaking of a certain Mr. Ryder . . . Jude got into position, ready for the hike. I was about to pop up and jump and cheer with a fifteen-pound Annalise bundle when someone tapped me from the side.
“Can I hold her, Aunt Luce?”
“Sure, LJ,” I said, setting Annalise on his lap, but keeping my hands close by. “She’s a little mover and shaker, so hang on tight.”
“I will,” he said, winding both arms tight around her middle. Of course, she calmed down almost right away now that cousin LJ had her.
The stadium was loud from the start to the end of the game. To help muffle some of that noise on baby ears, Annalise had her own special knit beanie she wore to every game. Unlike Jude’s, hers was pink, and she had a handful of Chargers outfits she rocked along with the jersey I wore.
I stayed seated next to LJ just in case Annalise decided to take a flying leap from his arms, and waved down the row at Sybill, who was wrestling her own four kiddos.
“I gotta tell you, Lucy,” Holly said, elbowing me from the other side, “that little beach house Jude got you for a wedding present is pretty fantastic. Just so you know, LJ, Thomas, and I are considering making the second floor our winter home. You guys wouldn’t mind, right?”
Since we were playing the elbowing game, I gave her one of mine. “No, we wouldn’t mind. As long as LJ doesn’t pee on all of my plants and Thomas picks up his dirty underwear.”
“Yeah, I don’t see that ever happening,” she said. “Darn, I guess it will just be me!”
I laughed, knowing she was partly serious—not about leaving LJ and Thomas, but about moving. They always stayed with us whenever they flew out, since we had the room, and the beach for our backyard, and when it came to Holly, Thomas, and LJ, it was truly the more, the merrier. Dad and Mom made it down to see us a bunch, too. Something about having a baby in the family was especially motivating. As a wedding present, Jude had surprised me with the keys to that beach house I’d wanted to rent for the holidays. Except instead of renting, we owned.
So we got to stay in it for the holidays last year, and we’ll get to stay in it every holiday after that. Jude had even sold his souped-up truck and had his old piecer totally rebuilt. I couldn’t call it a POS anymore, because it was gorgeous.
“How’s the dance studio coming along?” Holly asked as she watched the field.
Jude had called a last-minute time-out and was deep in a huddle with his teammates.
“Great. The dance floor goes in this week and then it’s pretty much done,” I said, rummaging through the diaper bag for Annalise’s teething giraffe she liked to gnaw on. “I’ve already got a list of dancers enrolled.”
“Those poor kids are going to go home crying after spending an hour in class with you as their teacher,” she said, smirking over at me.
“Why don’t you enroll in my adult class and I’ll make sure I send you home crying,” I replied, mirroring her smirk.
“Nah,” she said, nudging Thomas beside her. “Tights and ballet shoes are for men.”
“Damn straight, baby,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her full on the lips.
I laughed, and checked the field. They were out of the huddle and getting back into position. As yet another wedding present, Jude had purchased an old, run-down building in an artsy part of the city. He put me in charge of the design and renovation for its transformation. While I was finishing up fall semester, the dance studio came together. I’d made some solid progress with my money-issues thing. Jude had promised me that the money and the fame wouldn’t change him, and he’d been right. He still swaggered around in his Cons and Levi’s and drank cheap beer, but, most important, he still looked at me like I was his whole world. His eyes still went soft when he said, “I love you,” and he didn’t hesitate to help change a tire for some stranger stranded on the side of the road. So Jude was still Jude, I was still me, and we were still us. About the only thing that had changed was our bank account, just like he’d promised.
In between rooting for my favorite football team and changing diapers, I was still hell-bent on working in some sort of capacity, but I’d come to realize I wanted to work not so much because I needed to make my own money, but because I wanted to make a difference. Pairing that desire with my obsession for dance . . . well, the dance studio was the result. The knowledge that one day I could possibly influence a young girl the way Madame Fontaine had influenced me felt like it was the cherry on top of a very fulfilling sundae.
“Go, Uncle Jude,” LJ said, careful not to shout with Annalise in his arms.
“Here, buddy,” I said, reaching for her. “Let me take her so you can get up and bounce and scream for Uncle Jude. You know he can hear you out there, right?”
“I know,” LJ said importantly, letting me take Annalise.
“Come here, sweet girl. Let’s cheer for your daddy.” Kissing Annalise’s head, I stood up just as the center hiked the ball.
Jude didn’t even fake a pass; he just cradled that ball against himself and sprinted for the end zone.
I held my breath as everyone around the arena exploded. When he’d hit the ten I let myself exhale. He was going to do it.
When his foot landed in the end zone, the roof felt like it was going to blow off the place from the noise. I just stood there and grinned down at him. He was still a show-off.
Dropping the ball, he turned and jogged down the sidelines.
He high-fived a few of his teammates in passing, but he couldn’t be stopped. Coming to a pause in front of us, he grinned up.
“That one was for my girls,” he said, sliding his helmet off.
“And consider your girls sufficiently impressed,” I shouted, leaning forward. Annalise was really wriggling now that she’d caught sight of her daddy. She was smiling and making spit bubbles from her excitement.
“Come here, baby girl,” he said, lifting his arms. I surrendered her to his strong hands. “You want to see the best seat in the house?”
Annalise jolted, shaking her baby arms. She was such a daddy’s girl.
“Okay, okay.” He laughed, tucking her close to him. “But first I got to get a little something-something from your mama.”
Smiling that smile of his that made my stomach drop, he tilted his head up at me.
Leaning down, I kissed him and, no different from the first time we’d done this, the rest of the world faded away. It was just Jude and me and our little girl.
It was what you’d call something of a full-circle moment.
“Love you, Luce,” he said, after Annalise’s little hand had poked up between our mouths. She’d grabbed onto Jude’s lower lip and wasn’t letting go.
“Love you, Jude.”
Turning around, Jude carried Annalise out onto the field. He didn’t stop until he came to the middle of the fifty-yard line. Cradling her in his arms, he did a slow spin. Cameras were flashing, fans were screaming, and it was controlled anarchy, but I knew there was no one else but Jude and his little girl out there right now to him.
As I watched them, I felt the same thing. We were in our own bubble, and it was a good one. My life wasn’t how I planned it would be. It wasn’t even close.
It was a thousand times better.
Sybill had been right: The few things I’d sacrificed, or put on hold, to be with my husband and baby were worth it. That broken boy on the beach seemed like a lifetime ago. Years had passed, college and the NFL, marriage and a baby, but every once in a while, when Jude looked over at me and gave me that slow, knowing smile of his, I was that girl in a black string bikini all over again, longing for a boy I never thought could be mine.
About the Author
Nicole Williams, author of Crash, Clash, Crush, The Eden Trilogy, and The Patrick Chronicles, is a wife, a mom, and a writer who believes in true love, kindred spirits, and happy en
dings. Nicole currently lives with her family in Spokane, Washington. You can visit her online at http://nicoleawilliams.blogspot.com.
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Cover art © 2013 by plainpicture/Hollandse Hoogte/Rutger van der Bent
Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Crush
Copyright © 2013 by Nicole Williams
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Library of Congress catalog card number: 2013934073
ISBN 978-0-06-226717-7 (pbk.)
EPub Edition © MARCH 2013 ISBN: 9780062267184
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