Filthy Series Page 8

  I check the numbers as I pass by, making sure her room is next to mine. I’m impatient and insert the keycard the wrong way, slamming into the door when I try to open it. “Damn it,” I whisper, turning the card in my hand.

  When I finally make it inside, I resist the urge to knock on her door immediately. I need a shower. It was more humid than usual for this time of year, and my sweat mingled with greasy fried foods didn’t do me any favors.

  I shower quicker than normal, not wanting to linger and worried Reagan will pass out from exhaustion. I slide on my favorite track pants and a tank even though I’d rather go shirtless. If someone were to see us, they’d think something else was going on. I can’t risk it.

  I don’t want to give Reagan the wrong idea either. We need to talk tonight and nothing more. She gets me so worked up, but it’s not good for either of our careers.

  A few spritzes of cologne later, I drag my hands through my hair and smooth it down. When I’m about to knock, I freeze. It’s only nine, and I wonder if Lexi’s in there, meeting with Reagan.

  My ass finds the edge of the bed, and I grab my phone that I tossed there when I undressed.

  Me: I’m back.

  There’s not a reply right away, but I hear voices through the door. Quickly, I rise from the bed and rest my ear against the wood and hold my breath.

  “I’m tired,” Reagan says and does an over-the-top yawn that I can hear.

  “It’s late. You better turn in. We’re here for one more day, so you can relax a little bit. I’ll see you at breakfast, yeah?” Lexi asks.

  “I’m going to work out in the morning. I’ll be down to breakfast around nine.”

  I guess I’ll be up early for my workout too. I wouldn’t miss seeing her in her tight spandex and sports bra, especially if it’s between that and sleep.

  “Perfect,” Lexi says, and then I hear Reagan’s door open and close.

  I back away in case she opens it, and I sit on the edge of the bed to play it cool. I’m waiting, but nothing happens. Maybe she’s decided not to talk to me tonight. The thought alone has my stomach in knots.

  Me: Can we please talk?

  When the lock on our connecting door turns, I jump to my feet and tuck my hands in my pockets. I’m trying to play it cool like I haven’t been staring at the door, waiting for her to open it.

  “Hey,” I say and smile.

  “Hi.” The look on her face doesn’t say she’s as excited as I am, but she opened the door, and that means something.

  “Do you want to come in?”

  She nods and steps slowly into my room and looks around. “Hmm,” she mumbles with her lips closed.

  “What?” I ask and follow her eyes.

  “I thought it would be messier in here.”

  I laugh and hold my stomach. “The military doesn’t allow for messiness. Some habits die hard.”

  I’m mostly being honest. There are nights when I get to a hotel that I toss my clothes on the floor and don’t give a shit if the room is neat. I’m just too tired to care.

  “Would you like a drink?” I’m being cordial and feeling her out. Things are tense between us—more tense than the night I kissed her.

  “Water would be nice.”

  “I have beer or whiskey,” I lie.

  She wanders toward the table and chairs near the window and sits with a straight back, folding her hands in her lap. “Whiskey, neat.”

  My heart pounds inside my chest, and I’m trying to play it cool as I start to pour her drink and one for myself. She’s casual with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, still damp from the shower, and colorful leggings with an oversized T-shirt. “I’m sorry for not messaging you,” I say when I sit down across from her and slide her glass across the table.

  “We’re both busy.” She shrugs it off and stares into the amber liquor. “You have no loyalty to me, Titan, and you certainly don’t owe me an excuse.”

  “But you’re wrong.” I wait until she looks up at me before I speak again. “I know you think I’m toying with your head, Reagan, but I’m not.” I give her a halfhearted smile, but her face is unreadable. “When I kissed you, we were just two people sitting on a bench and in the moment. I wasn’t Jude Titan, your opposition. Just a guy and a girl acting on the attraction we both feel.”

  She doesn’t say anything to me, but her eyes drift back to her glass so I continue.

  “After I saw you, the day I never replied, I ran into an old Marine buddy. We fought together and were part of the same unit in Anbar that came under attack. He came to give me some news, and I haven’t been able to get beyond what he said to me.” Tears could easily fall if I don’t keep my eyes trained on her.

  “Jude,” she whispers, peering up from under her lashes.

  I shake my head, clearing my throat and feeling that I need to explain it all to her. “It’s like I’m in a tunnel, helpless to find the light I so badly need. No matter how hard I chase it…it stays out of reach.” My fingers dig into my hair, and I fist it in my hands. “Sometimes I fall into the pattern and let my past dictate the moment, but I’ve grown better at moving beyond the paralysis it causes. Until I saw Jim.”

  “What did he say?” she asks softly.

  “He brought a letter from a man we both served with—someone who couldn’t make his way to the end of the tunnel. He became trapped and crippled by darkness. Jim delivered a letter Kurt wrote before he took his own life.”

  She sits in silence, her chin quivering as she stares up at me. She reaches across the table and sets her hand on top of mine. “It’s not your fault,” she says softly, stroking my skin under her fingertips.

  “I’ll always feel I’m partially to blame.” I sigh, but I don’t move my hand away. Her touch calms me. “I wasn’t there for him when he needed me the most, Reagan. Everyone failed him.”

  Her entire body is motionless except for her fingers still pressed against my skin. “How did you fail him?”

  “If I had been there for him, maybe he’d still be alive today,” I admit, and it’s so painful I squeeze my eyes shut. Finally saying the words feels like a dagger is twisting in my gut.

  She lays her other hand on my forearm just over my tattoo. “You can’t think like that, Jude.”

  My chest aches, and the back of my throat burns when I talk. “How am I wrong, Reagan?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes people can’t be helped. Even if you were there with him, he may have still…” Her voice trails off.

  I sigh. “I know, but it doesn’t make it hurt less that I wasn’t even there to try. It’s one of the reasons I’m more determined than ever to win this race.”

  “Oh.” Her voice is low, and I almost don’t hear her when she speaks except I see her lips move.

  “We don’t do enough for our veterans. Some come back from war broken both mentally and physically, and there aren’t enough services to help. They fight for our freedom, yet they’re so easily forgotten.”

  Her head tilts, and her messy bun falls to the side. She grips my arm in her hand. “What was it like?”

  “It’s nothing like they show in the movies. It’s so much worse. I don’t even know if I can put it into words. Have you ever seen someone die? I’m not talking about in a hospital pumped full of pain meds either.”

  Her brows furrow, and she bites down on her bottom lip. “No.”

  I resist the urge to move, because her skin against mine is the only thing that stops me from losing it. “It’s not peaceful. The worst part is when you’re trying to save your life and the lives of those around you while your buddy lies on the ground dying and pleading for you to save him, but no matter what…you can’t.”

  She glances down and closes her eyes. “That’s horrible.”

  “Death is violent and final. War is more frightening than anything I’ve ever been through. Wondering every day if I’d see the sun set again or watch the color come alive in the morning. There isn’t a moment’s peace. The only
thing we have in combat is each other, and when you can’t help the one person that’s counting on you—it’s soul-crushing.”

  She peers up at me with tears in her eyes. “But you saved Kurt.”

  “I did, but for what? He went through months and months of treatment for them to repair his body the best they could, but they didn’t do enough to chase away his demons. It’s the ones we’re all running from, but some of us are better at dealing with it than others.”

  When she lifts her hand from my arm, I reach into the duffle bag behind me and pull out Kurt’s letter. “Here,” I say and hand her the neatly folded paper. “Read what he said. Maybe you’ll understand why this is so important to me.”

  She nods but doesn’t say a word, peeking up at me as she unfolds the single sheet. I can’t watch her read it. I’ve read it at least a hundred times since Jim gave it to me. I walk over to the bed and let my body fall backward onto the mattress.

  I stare up at the ceiling and wonder which parts she’s on. She’s sniffling, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her wipe away her tears. The paper crinkles before she’s hovering above me.

  “Jude,” she whispers while she sits down next to me. “I don’t know what to say.” She hangs her head, and her hands are twisting in her lap.

  She’s feeling only some of what I felt reading the letter. I lived it with him. Thought of him as a brother. Losing someone in this way is devastating. I roll and sit up. My hand curls around the back of her neck, my palm resting against her cheek and my thumb pressing against the corner of her beautiful, pink mouth. “There’s nothing to say, Reagan. There are no words for what I’ve seen and what drove Kurt into oblivion. All that’s left is to feel.”

  Before she can respond, I lean forward and crush my mouth to hers. I need to feel and get lost in something other than despair. Reagan is the only person who’s made me feel an ounce of happiness in more years than I care to admit.

  Will my decision to run harder and do whatever it takes to win ruin anything that we may have?

  I’m living in the moment, not worried about what tomorrow will bring.

  Right now, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting lost in the feel of her full, soft lips pressed against mine.

  When my tongue sweeps into her mouth and is met by a moan, I’m lost in a different abyss.

  I’ve never been kissed like this. Jude’s tongue is claiming; his lips are seeking. My soft curves mold against his taut muscles, every ridge finding a valley until there’s nothing left between us.

  I can’t think. Now that Jude’s shown me his vulnerable side, all bets are off. I need to feel him and taste him. Whatever comfort or redemption he’s looking for, I want to be the one he finds it in.

  Every nerve in my body responds to the primal hunger he incites in me. When his big hand reaches behind my head to cup my neck, I moan softly and his other hand tightens its hold on my ass.

  He lifts me slightly and moves forward, putting his knee between my thighs and resting it on the bed. And damn, do I like it.

  I suck in a breath, and he doesn’t miss it. When he pulls his lips from mine, I see the smirk I either love to hate or hate to love, depending on the day. “You like me pushing those legs apart, Reagan?”

  “Felt more like a gentle nudge to me, Titan,” I say in challenge, my heart thundering with excitement.

  He arches his brows with amusement. “Gentle, huh?”

  When he presses his palm between my breasts and pushes me to the mattress, my sigh is half surprise, half arousal. As soon as my back hits the bed, he’s on top of me, his knee back between my thighs. I feel heat everywhere—from his body, my own, between my legs, and even inside my chest.

  The scrape of his stubble on my neck makes my skin tingle and my back arch. I feel his groan against my throat. Knowing I excite him is like fuel on an already raging fire. I pull back my knee, trying to work my leg around his so I can wrap both legs around his waist and feel all of him pressed against me.

  He digs his knee into the mattress, and another groan vibrates from his chest to mine. I gasp as his tongue traces a light trail along my collarbone.

  When I grab his shoulders and pull my knee back again so I can feel his erection pressing against my center rather than his knee, he lifts his face from my neck and meets my eyes.

  “No.” His tone is gravelly and strained, but firm.

  “Yes,” I say, holding his gaze as I wiggle beneath him in an effort to get what I want.

  It’s more than want at this point; I’m aching to feel Jude’s erection against me.

  “Reagan,” he says, his voice laced with warning now. “No.”

  He’s breathing hard, and arousal is pooled in his dark, narrowed eyes. He wants this, too. But he wants to control me more.

  “Don’t tell me no,” I say, my tone matching his.

  “You have no idea how hard it is.”

  “Exactly. And I want to.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. “That’s not what I meant, but I am hard as fuck right now.”

  “Mmm.” I smile back at him, my chest rising and falling with the excitement I feel. “All talk, Titan, until you prove it.”

  He takes hold of my wrists, moving them from his shoulders and pinning them to the bed above my head before I even know what’s happening.

  “Don’t fear me,” he whispers. “Never fear me, Reagan.”

  “I’m not scared.” My voice is breathy.

  “Your eyes are huge right now.”

  “Because I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “I’m a good girl, Jude. I always do the right thing. I never take any chances. I’m always on point. But I lose control when we’re alone. I lose it to you.”

  “You think I’m in control right now?”

  I smile. “Seems to me I’m pinned beneath you and begging for it.”

  His gaze darkens further, and his smile slips away. “I fucking love the sound of that. But I’m right on the edge too, Reagan. If my cock touches any part of you, I’m done.”

  He’s holding his large, powerful frame above me, his hands on my wrists the only part of him touching me until he lowers his nose to my face and brushes it gently next to mine. The gesture is surprisingly sweet, and it sets my body on fire for him again.

  I capture his lips with mine and kiss him deeply. I’m otherwise immobilized, so I have to show him how much I want him with just my mouth. I tug his lower lip between my teeth, and he groans again.

  “Fuck,” he says softly.

  A loud knock sounds at the door. My lips part with shock, and I jump.

  Shit. What am I doing in here? I scramble off the bed, smoothing my hair as I run for the door between our rooms.

  “Hey,” Jude whispers as I grab the door handle.

  “Lemme in, man,” a deep voice says. There’s another knock. It’s Carl, Jude’s campaign manager.

  I lock eyes with Jude for just a second before I quietly open the door, slip through, and then lock the deadbolt on the other side. For a few seconds, I stand with my back against it, my heart still pounding anxiously.

  “What are you doing in here?” Carl asks. “The TV’s not even on.”

  “I was sleeping,” Jude answers. “You need something?”

  “I’ve got good news. Get me a drink, will you?”

  “Get your own fucking drink. The fridge is full.”

  Carl apparently walks over to the fridge because I hear him ask Jude, “You want one?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”

  Through the paper-thin walls, I can hear them almost as clearly as if I were in the room with them.

  “So…” Carl says, “The guy I hired to dig into the Prestons returned with a fucking gold mine of information.”

  “Yeah?” Jude asks, his tone flat and disinterested.

  “We’ve got two very promising leads to work on. You know Reagan’s younger sister, Abby?”

  My pulse kicks up at the mention of my sister’s name. That
bastard Carl will be sorry if he tries to go after her.

  “Yeah, what about her?” Jude asks.

  “Apparently, she had an abortion in college.”

  I bury my face in my hands. Though it’s true, it’s something that hurt Abby deeply, and it has no place in a political campaign. It’s all I can do not to throw open the door and attack Carl.

  “So what?” Jude says. “That’s got nothing to do with Reagan.”

  “True,” Carl says, his tone smarmy. “But it does have something to do with Senator Preston. Apparently, he drove Abby to the clinic and wouldn’t let her leave when she said she couldn’t go through with it.”

  That’s also true. Abby was inconsolable over the whole thing, and our parents told her an abortion was her only choice. They said it was best for her. She’s never forgiven herself for listening to them.

  “Is that it?” Jude asks, his tone still bland.

  “Is that it?” Carl repeats, incredulous. “It seems our family-focused senator forced his knocked-up daughter to get an abortion. This came from someone inside the clinic. It happened, Jude. We can hit the senator’s credibility with this, which will also hit Reagan’s.”

  “No, I don’t want to.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Jude raises his voice a little. “Do I look like I’m kidding? That’s got nothing to do with Reagan or this campaign. I’m not interested.”

  “Don’t worry, your name won’t be anywhere near it,” Carl says.

  “I said no, and I meant it. I’m not destroying Abby Preston for a few political points.”

  I sigh softly, tears of relief burning my eyes. I couldn’t stand to see my sister hurt by my campaign. She’s a teacher with a serious boyfriend, and she doesn’t deserve to have a painful secret from her past dredged up by my political opponent.

  “We’ll see how you feel when the election’s closer,” Carl mutters.

  “I’ll feel the same. Better to lose with honor than win with deceit.”

  “I think you’ll be interested in the other thing my guy dug up.”

  “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?” Jude says. “I’m tired.”