Without a single word, he walks us through the room, his footsteps ricocheting in time with the throb humming through my body. The blankets are soft underneath me as he lays me on the bed. I shift backward, resting up on elbows without ever breaking eye contact.
His jaw is clenched, and his body is wound tight, but he refuses to look past my face. The realization that I’m naked, and proof of my imperfection is showing hits home. I quickly wrap an arm around my chest. But Jude shakes his head, the wet strands sticking to his corded neck. “Don’t hide who you are, butterfly.”
“Butterfly?” His term of endearment is one I suddenly adore.
“Yes.” He prowls forward. His belt buckle hits the ground as he steps out of his wet jeans. Placing one knee on the bed between my parted legs, he slips off
