Kissed and Missed (Daddy Issues #2)

Chapter 13

13

HONOR

W e’re given orders to stay where we are.

Julian’s PR team—which seems to be comprised of well-dressed, blood-thirsty jackals—arrives late at night, just a few hours after I walked out of the hotel and got the shock of a lifetime. They sit us down at the suite’s long dining table and explain the current state of things. Basically, the two of us look like monsters, and Riley—who sent Julian’s four earlier calls to voicemail—looks like the victim.

The easiest, most straightforward path would be to correct that misconception. There were suggestions of leaking the screenshots of her cheating on me, or paying the woman who sent them to speak about the affair publicly.

I knew without Julian saying a single word that he wouldn’t throw his daughter under the bus to save either of us. Sure enough, they’d barely finished explaining this potential course of action before he was telling them, firmly, it wasn’t going to happen.

“Thankfully, Honor, you are a dream PR client,” the head of the team informs me cheerfully, not the least bit perturbed by the fact that half the internet is calling me a slut, and the other is calling me a revenge queen.

I went online to check my sparsely used social media accounts and immediately regretted it. My DMs were chock-full of nasty or crude messages from strangers, and even the comments on a picture I’d posted of me and Sophie’s brunch waffles from a few weeks ago were full of people telling me how disgusting a person I am. After only thirty seconds of scrolling through the virtual dumpster fire, Julian snatched the phone out of my hand and told me, more firmly than he ever had before, to not touch it again.

No freaking problem.

“We ran a background check on you as soon as we got Mr. Ballard’s call and nothing concerning came up. You work at a nonprofit, volunteer, and come from a good family. Nobody is disputing that your relationship with Riley ended long before your relationship with Julian began, and the two of you haven’t been spotted together since August. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble spinning this into a case of: right person, wrong circumstances .”

The final “plan of attack” is fairly simple. We will release a joint statement, acknowledging we are in a relationship, that we never meant it to happen, but grew close as Julian leaned on my expertise in nonprofit management. The founding of The Ballard Fund, which still isn’t public information, will be hinted at but not confirmed.

Putting me in place as the head of the brand-new family foundation will reinforce me as a decent, respectable person, a long-term fixture in his life rather than a dirty little secret, and hopefully the media will forget about us. The goal is that in three days’ time, Julian and I will be written off as a slightly weird but unproblematic couple.

This was the point where Julian asked them to step out.

“You don’t have to do this,” he told me in a low, urgent rush. “If you don’t want the job, or don’t want to continue this relationship at any point”—his expression flickers—“I don’t want to trap you, Honor.”

I open my mouth to tell him he’s being ridiculous, that I want both of those things so much it’s faintly ridiculous, and yet no sound comes out. What if this is all a huge mistake? My entire life, I’ve done the responsible, pragmatic thing. If a year ago, someone would have told me that one of the Vogel sisters would be in this situation, I would have pointed the finger at Leni so fast.

Then there’s the reality that Julian and I come from two completely different worlds. I’m a normal person with a mediocre job, whereas he built an actual empire. I get excited when I have enough punches on my coffee card to get a free latte, and he owns a beach house in one of the most expensive zip codes in the world. He’s eighteen years older than me. If I take the overly romantic, overly invested organ in my chest out of account, diving headfirst into this relationship sounds insane. I need to be smart about this.

“Well,” says Julian, pushing past my silence. “Since we’re going to be spending another three days together, maybe we use this time to just enjoy each other’s company. No pressure.”

A choked laugh bubbles from between my lips. “No pressure?”

Julian squeezes my hand, and his expression is so soft and hopeful, it dispels some of the cold that has been present since I stumbled back into the hotel hours ago. “No pressure,” he confirms. “I know it’s easier said than done. Let me show you this is going to work, though, and that you don’t need to be afraid with me. If you still can’t say you’re certain by the time the gala rolls around, I will find a way to get you out of this. You have my word.”

Emotion crowds my throat as I let my gaze linger on his handsome face. “If it doesn’t work out between us, though?—”

“Honor,” Julian interrupts, and there is nothing but truth in his warm gaze. “You’re not hearing me, Valentine. I’m telling you, I will make it work.”

Holy shit.

Regaining the ability to speak is still a work in progress when he leans forward, kissing me gently. I don’t think he means to take it further, am totally confident he meant to pull back and continue on his mission to make me melt with the force of his unrepentant adoration. Julian is respectful like that. He knows I had the very shittiest of all shitty nights, and he’s probably prepared to draw me a bubble bath and give me a back rub or something.

I appreciate the sentiment and all, but right now, I’m feeling pretty helpless. The only thing that helps me when I feel like this—as if the world is spinning out of control around me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it—is to do something I can control.

Luckily for me, the best distraction I’ve ever had is right next to me, looking all concerned about our future, about me .

“Come on.” Julian stands, oblivious to the direction of my thoughts, and holds out a hand to me. “There’s nothing else to be done tonight.”

I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. “Can we take a shower?” I ask, careful to keep my voice soft and unassuming.

His throat bobs. “Of course.”

The bathroom at the back of the suite is about the size of my and Sophie’s living room. Every inch of it is outfitted in black and white marble, and a tub shaped like half an egg is stationed right in the middle of the floor.

The shower, however, is a work of art. A massive glass wall encloses the space, which has a tile bench along one side, and no less than four shower heads aimed in different directions on the other.

“Wow.” My voice echoes off the polished stone as I stand back, watching Julian stride over to the dials and knobs on the wall beside it. Fingering the hem of my sweater, I wait for him to turn toward me again, the bathroom echoing with the sound of the shower water, before pulling it smoothly over my head.

Pretending I don’t notice him watching me, I allow my bra to fall too. “Are you going to join me?” I ask, unable to help my smile as I slip my thumbs beneath the waistband of my pants and panties, pushing them to fall in a heap around my ankles.

Julian is still standing beside the shower, his arms crossed, and for the first time, I feel the tiniest bit unsure. What happened before was all passionate and pent-up. We barely slowed down to get each other naked before he was inside me. This is different. I’m standing butt naked in front of him, with the warm bathroom light leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He lifts his chin, gaze burning right through me. “Come here.”

My tummy tenses as I obey, stepping over the marble floor until I’m right in front of him, and yeah. I’m no longer concerned about Julian not liking what he sees.

Bowing forward, his lips brush my ear as he murmurs, “Turn around and bend over. Hold onto your ankles.”

It’s a miracle I don’t pass out in my hurry to do as he asked, dropping forward until I’m nearly bent in half. I watch between my legs as Julian’s feet step closer, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out when his fingers dip just inside my tender entrance.

“My cum is leaking out of you,” he murmurs, and my eyelids flutter as he circles my clit with his release. The falling water in the cavernous shower is loud enough to drown out my moan as he eases the same two fingers inside me, fucking me slowly. “Do you need more, Valentine? Do you need me to fill you up again?”

“Please.” The backs of my thighs are burning from being stretched like this for so long, but when I lift my head high enough to catch sight of us in the mirror above the vanity, all discomfort is quickly deemed a worthy sacrifice. Because, what I see there, is hot .

There’s no other word for it.

First, there’s me, naked and bent over, wild-eyed and messy-haired, a pink flush crawling over my cheeks as I get more worked up. Then, behind me, stands Julian. He’s still fully dressed, wearing the same button-down and slacks he did to the meeting with the PR people. All his attention is focused on his hand moving between my legs, and when I arch higher, offering him more, I watch his jaw tighten in response.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, curving his fingers to brush my G-spot. “You don’t need to think about anything else right now. Just come on my fingers, I’ll take care of you.”

He isn’t asking for much. Already I’m so lost in the moment, I couldn’t care less what people outside this room think about me, or what the internet is saying about my brand-new relationship. Let them talk. I’ll just be over here coming on a hot billionaire’s fingers.

“Julian,” I whimper, the muscles in my legs growing weaker as he works me closer and closer, efficient and precise in his ministrations. “Oh god, oh god—” I come so hard that lights burst on the insides of my eyelids and my cry echoes off the walls of the bathroom. Steam is filling the space, and when Julian finally removes his hand from the small of my back, allowing me to straighten up to face him, my head spins.

“I fucking love making you come,” Julian grunts, taking my face in his hands and kissing me chastely. There’s something about seeing him like this, growly and possessive, swearing, that makes my insides all fluttery and warm.

“Get in the shower,” Julian murmurs, stepping away from me after another soft, revenant kiss.

I feel his eyes on me as I obey, stepping into the warm spray of water with a happy groan. “This is definitely superior to the shower in my apartment,” I tell him over my shoulder, smiling as I hear the distinct rustle of clothing hitting the floor.

“I’ll fuck you in it anyway, I’m not picky.”

I giggle at his wry, mischievous tone, peeking over my shoulder just in time to see Julian stepping into the shower and closing the glass door behind him with a quiet snick. Almost instantly, steam begins to build up in the enclosed space, creating a dreamy haze around us as my eyes rake shamelessly over his naked body.

My sexuality has always been fluid, but dating women felt easier somehow, and it became my comfort zone. There is nothing feminine about Julian Ballard. He’s undeniably masculine, and comfortable with it. Before him, I wouldn’t have expected to like that quality in a partner, and maybe I still don’t. Maybe I just like him .

“I’m really into you,” I confess as Julian stops beside me, water from all the fancy shower heads cascading over both of us now. “It’s kind of scaring the crap out of me.”

I reach up to touch his chest, drawing my fingers through the sodden, dark hair there, creating little patterns that are instantly washed away by the water pouring over us. The tip of his hard cock brushes my belly button.

“I know this is a lot.” His voice rumbles through his chest into my hands, and I feel his lips brush my forehead. “Those few days when you stepped back, when you weren’t talking to me, and I thought I’d pushed you away for good… They were some of the worst days of my life, Honor. I don’t blame you for doing it, though, or regret them. It forced me to see things from a new perspective.”

I peek up at him, and my pulse skips when I find his eyes already on me, burning and unquestionably truthful. “Which is?”

He lets out a long, rocky breath and steps forward, crowding me into the cold shower wall. “Getting to know you has been the best part of my life, and there are no circumstances in the world worth giving you up.”