Crush (Crash #3)(97)

"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.