Behind His Lens(69)

Jude’s sardonic laugh echoes through the broken night. He’s perfectly aware that the police will care more about the man’s drunken shenanigans than the fact that we mistakenly entered a private beach.

I watch Jude gather our belongings again, preparing to leave, but I stand frozen, trying to process the scene. A moment later, when Jude reaches for me, I rear back in fear. Not of Jude, exactly, but of the entire situation. Everything happened so fast, one minute I was having a mind-boggling orgasm, and the next, a crazy drunk was yanking me around. Suddenly Jude’s blue eyes pierce through my haze like an old friend and his soft words melt over me.

“Hey, Charley. It’s okay. We’re leaving,” he caresses my hair gently, and I nod, taking his hand and letting him pull me back toward the hotel.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jude

“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping her tucked near me as we walk back into the hotel. Neither one of us offered to speak on the journey back. I wanted to make sure I’d calmed down enough that I wouldn’t take any of my anger out on her. That guy was completely out of line, and I should have done something more. The * won’t even have a scratch on him when the police get there. Charley, on the other hand, will be sporting a colorful bruise by tomorrow, no doubt. Poor Angel. I can’t believe he thought he could touch her like that and get away with it.

Undoubtedly, the situation shook her nerves, but I’ll have to be sure that she isn’t scared of me because of it. I have a temper, most people do once they come back from wars, but I keep mine in check unless it’s provoked for reasons like that.


“Yes,” she answers so quietly that I have to consider if I actually heard her or not. She clears her throat and meets my eyes.

“I am.” Her faint smile barely reaches her cheeks, and the hair framing her face almost acts as a shield against the world.

When we arrive outside of her suite, I’m prepared to bend down and kiss her goodnight, knowing she needs space, but then her words catch me off guard.

“Sleep in my room tonight.”

Her hands tighten into a ball at her waist and she lets her head fall while she waits for my reply.

I pause, glancing down at her, trying to read the emotions playing behind those delicate features. Her eyebrows are tugged together, her cheeks are flush, and her lips are still rosy red from our kisses on the beach.

“Just sleep,” she adds, and before she has to say anything more, I slide the key into her door and push it open.

“I’m going to shower and grab some clothes to change into. I’ll meet you back over here in a second.” In reality, I want to wash away the remnants of my rage before I step closer to her.

“Okay,” she murmurs, but there’s a sweet gleam behind her eyes when she glances up at me.

…

Her room is dark by the time I wedge through the door, but a small lamp illuminates my path to her bed. She’s lying down, watching the ocean through her window. When I pad closer, she doesn’t even turn to look at me. Is she sleeping already?

Bright blond hair, still damp from her shower, splays out across her pillow in a golden halo. She’s wearing pajama pants and one of those spaghetti strapped, tank tops. There’s a harsh red thumb print already forming across the beautiful skin on her arm.

“Charley?” I ask, stepping around the corner of the bed so I can see her face. She’s not asleep. She’s focused intently on the window, or rather what lies beyond it.

“Charley?” I ask again, and this time she blinks and props her head up on her hand.

“Sorry, I was studying the colors of the ocean,” she smiles up at me.

“The colors?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes. I’m trying to commit them to memory so I can paint this scene when I get home,” she explains, glancing out to the ocean once again.

I follow her gaze out toward the dark water and try to discern what she’s seeing with her artistic eye. Blue is all that comes to mind. Dark blue that turns to black as it fades away from the moonlight. Is that what she wants to remember? It seems easy enough.

“Tell me the colors you see, Charley.”

She frowns, trying to understand my request.

“I want to know what you see,” I explain.

“Come lay with me and I’ll tell you,” she replies with a tired smile.

Within a moment, I’m climbing up onto the bed to lie beside her. The blanket is thick and fluffy, successfully concealing Charley’s entire body underneath. But with a steady hand, I slide underneath to join her so that her back rests against my chest. When I prop myself up on my elbow, I can see past her head and out through the window, just like her.