Page 87 of Elf-ish

Jude Ashford just ruined me.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve had this pull to you,” Jude says, his voice low as he continues to smooth back my hair.

“It’s called transference,” I tease, feeling something rise in my chest. A fear that things are moving too fast, when I’m the one who told him he didn’t need to go slow. “You think you’re attracted to me because I saved you.”

Transference happens in many ways, but it’s mainly when someone hurt believes they love someone who helped. Patients with doctors. Victims with first responders.

It’s one reason I warned Jude not to fall in love with me. He’d fall under a false perception, not actual attraction.

Jude chuffs. “Oh, there is no doubt I’m attracted to you, but it’s not because you saved me.”

“Really?” I arch a brow, both curious and teasing. Desperate to keep the moment light.

“Really.” He bops my nose before he lowers his gaze to my lips. “And I’m most attracted to this spot right here.”

He sets his fingertip just below my lower lip, off to the left.

“Why there?” I question with a nervous laugh.

“Because you have a freckle that I’ve claimed as mine. Like the North Star in the sky, leading me—”

He abruptly stops, and I hold my breath, waiting on that final word.

Instead, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to that spot just below my lip.

I shouldn’t like that out of the freckles I’ve always considered a nuisance, he’s claimed one as his own. “That was beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says before giving me another quick kiss and rolling from the bed to dispose of the condom.

When he returns, he presses me away from him, then settles his front to my back, lining himself up with me everywhere he can, like he did when I was sick.

And we fall asleep for a short winter nap.

+ + +

Morning comes too quickly. Like snapshots on Aunt Gertie’s phone, I flip through the captured moments of the past few days. Jude in my place; me in his. His hands on my skin and his kiss on my lips. It’s all been so much so fast, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I can’t seem to slow the rapid roll of wanting more with Jude.

Like he said, he’s not pretending.

I couldn’t fake these blooming feelings if I tried.

He’s so different than I first thought. The selfish, distant man is more open-minded than I’d initially given him credit. He’s changing right in front of my eyes.

Like I told him, I see him wanting to do better, putting in effort to be better, and the trait is endearing.

He’s still as complex as ever, especially with all that talk of being my groom.

With that thought, I roll my head on the pillow and watch him rest. He looks less intense as he sleeps. Not so hard, but also not completely soft. He’s just . . . Jude.

Beautiful on the outside, complex on the inside, a perfect blend like my chocolate mints.

On that note, I slowly slink from Jude’s bed. After missing days of work, I don’t want to be late, and I need to make a quick trip home. Tiptoeing around Jude’s room, I collect my underwear and yesterday’s clothing before stepping into his bathroom. Every sound is too loud. The toilet flushing. The water running. Even braiding my hair somehow feels noisy.

When I re-enter Jude’s room, he jackknifes upright, lifting one knee and wrapping both arms around it.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m on shift today, and I need to go home to get my uniform.” As I hadn’t planned a sleepover, or a night of unforgettable sex, I need a few minutes before I head to the firehouse.