Fool For You (Made for Love Book 4) (58 page)

“Can’t wait,” he says before pressing a quick kiss against my knuckles.

Just as he’s letting me go, my phone starts to ring. When I flip it over and see that it’s Jude calling, I bite down on my bottom lip in a desperate attempt to hide my grin. After the promise I just made, I feel a little guilty for wishing I could abandon my current conversation for whatever exchange I might fall into if I answered his call.

“Go on,” Geoff says with an amused expression, nodding toward the back. “Take the call, Freckles. I’ve got the floor.”

“I’ll be quick,” I assure him, standing to my feet.

He winks at me and I blow him a kiss before I slide my finger across the screen to answer.

“Hello?” I ask, my heels clicking against the hardwood floors as I hurry my way to the supply room.

“Hello, Teddy.”

My stomach erupts with butterflies at the sound of his deep voice caressing my ear like velvet. As I step over the threshold of the back room, closing the door behind me, it’s all I can do to keep myself from swooning.

“
I miss you
,” I breathe, the words spilling from my lips without a second thought.

“Let’s do something about that, sweetheart.”

My God, this man—he owns my heart. Every last bit of it.

It’s been a long day—already. I haven’t stopped working since I arrived, not even breaking for lunch. News of Logan’s pregnancy is now all over the office. Yesterday, during our Monday morning meeting, she made an official announcement; though, how people couldn’t guess by the subtle bump of her lower belly is beyond me. Regardless, the chatter feels relentless, even now. Keeping people focused has been a fucking nightmare. It’s as if they’ve never been around a pregnant woman before.

I shut myself up in my office this morning, determined to find the focus to plow through my emails and handle my managerial responsibilities so that I could spend the afternoon working on a couple designs I’ve been itching to make progress on. My weekend with Teddy put me behind. While I’m certainly not complaining, I’ve got a ton of shit to do.

Thinking about my shy girl reminds me of the night I spent in bed alone. I woke up hard as a rock, needing that tight pussy. I ignored it, knowing I wouldn’t find the release I was after with a quick hand job. Now, after a day like today, I could use a good fuck—and her pussy is exactly what I’m craving.

Before I dive into my design work, I decide to give her a call. I want my woman in my bed tonight, and I won’t take no for an answer.

“Hello?” she speaks.

I ignore the way my chest tightens at the sound of her voice, concentrating on the way my cock starts to harden as I imagine that mouth of hers when she moans my name.

“Hello, Teddy.”

“I miss you.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, and I know already that tonight, I will have her.

“Let’s do something about that, sweetheart.”

“Please,” she murmurs sweetly.

Her choice of word has me fully erect, and I reach down to give myself a tight squeeze. I love it when my woman begs for me.

“Come over tonight.”

“Tonight?” she asks, her voice not as enthusiastic as I had anticipated. “I can’t tonight.”

I furrow my brow, displeased. “Why not?”

“I already made plans to hang out with Geoff.”

“So, cancel,” I insist.

She hesitates before she replies, “I can’t.”

“You
can’t
, or you
won’t?
”

“I—I don’t want to.”

A scowl pulls at my brow as my blood starts to race away from my groin. I look down at my lap, dissatisfied and determined to have my way. “Last I checked, mine’s the dick that makes you scream, sweetheart—
not
his.”

“Judah…” she whispers, sounding embarrassed.

“If you really miss me, you’ll prove it. Come over tonight.”

“That’s not fair,” she argues. “I
do
miss you, but I promised Geoff. I’m not going to cancel on him. Can’t we see each other tomorrow?”

The thought of another night without her irritates me. I waited
weeks
for her damn cunt, and I think that’s earned me the right to fuck it whenever the hell I want to—and I want to
tonight
. I don’t want to compromise. I want my woman.

“You can push me off until tomorrow, but not him?”

“Judah—it’s not like that. Can we please just see each other tomorrow?”

I shake my head, appalled at how irrationally perturbed I am, and annoyed that she’s made me feel this way. Even more, I just want a goddamn
fuck
—and
she’s
the reason I won’t be getting shit tonight.

“I have to go,” I mutter, no longer wishing to hear the sound of her voice. It just reminds me of how much I want her, how tight she’s got me wrapped around her goddamn finger, and right now—it’s pissing me off.

“Wait, Jude! Are you mad at me?”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” As soon as I say the words, I pull my mobile away from my face and end the call.

That sure as hell didn’t go like I thought it would.

I want to stay pissed off. I want to latch onto the irritation I feel at having been denied what I know we both want—what we both
need
.

But as I toss my phone down onto my desk, jealousy creeps into my blood stream, coursing through my body. My anger dissipates, my lust wanes, and what’s left is only a longing that causes an ache in my chest that won’t be denied.

Wait, Jude! Are you mad at me?

I know I probably just hurt her, and it makes me feel like shit—but my pride keeps me from picking up the phone to call her back.

Fuck
. I’m so fucking fucked
.

I stare down at my phone, panic replacing the excitement that filled my belly when I saw it was Judah calling me. I wasn’t prepared for our conversation to take such a nose dive. The stubborn side of me knows that I did nothing wrong. I promised my best friend that it would be just him and me tonight, and I won’t take back my word. And yet, my heart hurts knowing that I’ve made Judah upset with me.

It’s stupid. I
know
it’s stupid. He has no right to be upset with me. He’s told me
no
plenty of times before; but that’s the logical side of me talking—that’s my
brain
screaming at me, telling me I did the right thing and that my desire to cry right now is completely irrational and uncalled for. But I
do
want to cry—because my heart doesn’t care about logic. My heart knows only one thing.

He’s mad at me.

I pace back and forth along the length of the room, a full on battle raging inside of me. It takes me a few minutes to gain control of my emotions. In the end, it’s by sheer
will
that I convince myself to let logic rule. I’m in love with Judah, but I am not his beck-and-call girl. I’m his girlfriend, but I’m still
Teddy
—I have to be. And tonight, I’m going out to spend some quality time with one of my favorite people in the whole world. Whatever jealousy issues Judah has with Geoff, he’s just going to have to get over them; and the
dick that makes me scream
, as he so
romantically
phrased it, will have to wait.

I take a deep breath as I reach for the handle of the door in front of me, ignoring the worry I feel; ignoring the doubt that makes my stomach ache; ignoring the question of what might happen between Judah and me after a night spent at odds? I ignore it
all
—especially the memory of what happened the last time he got upset with me…

He wants
me
, I remind myself.

He’s chosen
me
.

After everything we’ve been through, he wouldn’t just
change his mind
about us.

He couldn’t.

“Give me that,” Geoff demands, holding out his hand.

I look down at my phone, sitting on top of the table next to my barely-touched glass of wine, and then over at him.

“
Give
it to me.”

I suck. I suck so much, I despise myself. I think I might even cry. Right now, I’m like the definition of the world’s worst friend. I promised Geoff that tonight would be just the two of us. I’ve broken that promise over and over again—every single time I look down at the damn phone. The damn phone that won’t ring.

“For Christ’s sake—Theodora Rose Fitzpatrick, give me the fucking phone.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as I slide the device across the table. It doesn’t even make it half way between us before he’s snatched it up and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Now—drink the rest of that wine. I mean it, baby girl—chug that bitch.”

I take a deep breath and then do just as he says. I don’t put the glass down until I’ve swallowed every last drop.

“I’m assuming you’ve only actually heard about every other word that’s come out of my mouth in the last twenty minutes. Don’t worry,” he says, holding up a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to protest. “I’m a boring sack of shit these days. Thinking about redecorating the condo. I don’t need you to tell me whether I should consider a warmer pallet, or stick with a cool theme. Not today, anyway. But you bet your cute, little ass I’m dragging you to IKEA when I’m good and ready.”

“Of course,” I murmur sincerely. “I’d love to come with you.”

“Great. So, are you going to tell me what’s got you so preoccupied? Or are you going to pretend that the ghost of boyfriend present isn’t standing at my back?”

I sigh, reaching up to sweep my hair behind my ears, replaying our earlier conversation.

“He’s mad at me. I don’t know, Geoff—I think we might be in a fight? I mean—maybe. I don’t know for sure.”

“Okay. What happened?”

“He wanted me to come over tonight. I told him I couldn’t, and that I had plans with you.”

As soon as the words fall from my lips, a frown pulls at my brow. It sounds
so
stupid; and judging by the look on Geoff’s face right now, he agrees.

“That’s it? He’s mad at you because you’re hanging out with me instead of him?” I nod and he laughs. “God, what a dick.”

“Geoffrey,” I mumble, his retort not helping me feel better in the slightest.

“Come on, Teddy—admit it. Your boyfriend is throwing a temper tantrum, which is flat out ridiculous.”

“He’s used to getting what he wants, that’s all,” I say with a shrug—sounding
awfully
close to defending him. I mull that thought over in my head, and my heart jumps in immediately.

He wanted me. He wanted me
tonight
. And while he’s not new to the concept of waiting for me, he didn’t want to wait this time.

The
Judah Danyl St. Michaels wanted me—Theodora Rose Fitzpatrick—
now
and not later. But he’s not the begging type, so he didn’t beg. He demanded. And when he didn’t get his way, he didn’t yell or start an argument; he didn’t even answer my question, he just shut down. He told me he’d call me tomorrow. It’s not fair of him to treat me like that, but I know my man. Suddenly, I see our conversation differently than I did before.

“I think he misses me…”

“Excuse me?” asks Geoff, lifting his eyebrows condescendingly.