Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(55)

We’d faced hardship before.

Marcus had come in after that, wanting to know everything on the medical side of things. Until the next day when I could transfer my records back to his care, all he had was what I could tell him, and unfortunately, it wasn’t much.

“We’ll get you set up with the best OB in town,” he’d promised. “We’ll figure it out.”

I’d nodded, thanking him for his kindness.

“Hey, you want to order a pizza or something? Watch a movie?” he’d offered. His head had casually leaned against the doorframe, his tanned body turned toward me.

“No, I’m fine. Why don’t you two go out or something? You don’t need to hang around here just for me.”

He must have sensed my need for solitary because he had nodded. “Okay, kid. I’ll bring you back something.”

“Sounds good.”

Now, it was just me and the waves.

“I thought you said watching the water was my thing,” a deep voice called out in the darkness.

I turned to see Jude standing in the shadows, holding a suitcase in one hand and the spare key my mother kept hidden in a ceramic frog in the other.

“I figured I’d give it a try,” I answered calmly, swallowing the lump in my throat that had just formed at the mere sight of him.

I stood, fiddling with the sleeves of my sweater, as our eyes met. He looked taller and much more formidable as I watched him drop his bag and stalk forward.

“All the way across the country? You know we have oceans on the East Coast?”

“I needed some space,” I replied softly.

He closed the distance between us. He was so close I could feel his angry breath on my neck.

“I don’t want space, Lailah.”

His mouth closed over mine, searing every nerve ending with fire until I was consumed by only him. My hands clung to him, pulling him closer, and his body molded to mine. Every heated, turbulent word and emotion I’d felt over the last two days exploded as I touched him.

I wanted him to feel my pain, my outrage, and torment. I wanted him to understand just how much he’d hurt me by refusing to support me and instead feeling like he could make decisions for me.

It was my life—mine, not his.

I pushed him backward, watching his eyes go wide with shock and a flicker of heat.

“Angry, Lailah?” he asked, the intensity of his face aglow by the distant moonlight. “Good. Me, too.”

He grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder. I punched at his back, but he just laughed darkly as he carried me through the apartment.

When he spotted my things in the room toward the back, he lowered me to the bed and shut the door. I watched in stunned silence as his clothes came off, one piece at a time. His eyes never left mine. It was as if I were his hard-earned prize.

He bent down and slowly slipped my sweater off my shoulders. “You always said you wanted all of me, remember?”

My gaze lifted to him, confusion painting my face until I saw his crooked grin.

“Well, I guess you can have your wish now,” he said with a hint of sadness.

I wanted to stop him, tell him we didn’t have to do this tonight, but before I could, his mouth was on mine once again, and I was lost to the feeling of his naked body pressed against mine. Every article of clothing I wore was shed until skin met skin, and I was drowning in his heat and warmth.

“No more boundaries,” he whispered. “No more barriers. Just you, me, and the sea of emotions separating us.”

I cried out as his body claimed mine, entering swiftly, and I felt him inside me for the first time without anything between us.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his head resting against the curve of my shoulder, as his heart raced against my chest.

“Jude,” I softly called.

He answered with a hard thrust that had my body reeling.

“Jude, please . . . look at me.”

His eyes finally met mine, and I saw torture and longing, love and sadness, and hope mixed with so much fear.

He stilled as I reached up, pushing back the hair that had fallen in front of his face. Molding my palm against his cheek, I kissed his chin and then his jawline before moving to the outward corner of his lip. I finally pulled him down, fusing our bodies and mouths. Our tears bled together as our souls reunited, reminding us of the never-ending bond we’d pledged to one another.

Love was eternal.

Love was endless, and love would carry us through the storm to the other side—whatever it might be.

I awoke the next morning, alone and disoriented.

My hands reached for him but found nothing but empty cold sheets. As my eyelids cracked open, I searched the room, trying to remember where I was—as anyone might do in new surroundings. Then, the memories of last night flooded my mind.

I bolted upright, looking around the room for something, anything, that would tell me it wasn’t a dream.

I found his dress shirt and tie slung over the edge of the bed—a simple sign that he was here, somewhere.

I stumbled out of bed, reaching for a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and I hobbled down the hallway in search of coffee and sustenance. I found my mom at the counter, reading the paper, while she nibbled on a bagel and sipped on a cup of tea.

“Hi,” I managed to say, my eyelids barely staying open long enough to find a cup.