Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
HARPER
Before I know it, I’m completely charmed by Julian. I can’t help it. I fight it, try to act tough, put my shields up, and one seductive, growly comment destroys my resolve. I don’t even care about the princess. I enjoy teasing him.
“Good thing, because I don’t either,” I say. His eyes track my lips as I sip on my drink again. I don’t particularly like it, but at least I’m not chugging it and getting tipsy.
I need my wits about me or I’ll kiss him again. If he’s going to use me as his muse, then I’ll use him for, well, my pleasure. Hell. I still haven’t recovered from that kiss. It was the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced or even imagined. I don’t have words strong enough to write a kiss that hot. Every nerve ending was awake and on high alert. It was electric, and I want to do it again. But I exercise control. Look at me. I deserve an Olympic medal for the level of restraint I’m showing because I really want to climb over this table, straddle his lap, and kiss him again. I squirm a little thinking about it.
“My turn, truth or dare?” I tease. I secretly hope he goes for the dare. Julian has been the star of my explicit daydreams, and I’m open to the idea of bringing them to life. As I think about him, I cross and uncross my legs. I’m sure his name will be on my lips the next time I come.
“Truth.” There’s no hesitation. He said he’d never lie to me. Is now the time to test that vow?
“If you weren’t a sports agent, what would you do?”
He takes a sizable sip of his drink, purses his lips while considering his answer. “Probably work with the Reapers is the realistic answer. Help in the family business. But if you’re asking me if I could do anything in the world, I’d say work in publishing, you know, books.”
Interesting. His answer was honest, although a little vague. I go for a follow-up, but he beats me to it.
“Truth or dare?”
I gently shake my head, chiding him for cutting me off. “Truth.”
“You don’t like your drink, do you?” Okay, so maybe my acting skills aren’t what I thought.
I giggle and wince. “Not really.”
He moves it in front of him. When I reach for my glass, he holds my hand. “Never drink something you don’t like because you think you should.” His eyes smolder. When I read about smoldering eyes, I obviously never fully understood the term. But I do now. All his attention is on me. If I’m reading him correctly, he’d rather be somewhere private. The next words he speaks are slow, intentional, and laced with innuendo. “Gorgeous, life is way too short to not enjoy it.” He waves the waiter over and orders another bottle of Aces and four entrees for dinner. The way he shifts from sex to casual conversation with the waiter seems effortless, and a little frightening.
“I thought you could mix and match for the Harper special,” he answers my unasked question.
“That’s pretty extravagant, Julian. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Is this how you treat all the women you pursue?”
There’s no hesitation this time when he answers. “Nope. This is a first for me. Truth or dare?”
I put my hand up to stop him. We’re going to go a little deeper on that one. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why am I getting this special treatment? I’m serious. Is it about the chase for you? Some macho competition with Zac? What is it about me that warrants this behavior from you, Julian? Truth, please.” My teasing and flirting are gone, my vulnerability front and center. I convince myself I can handle anything he says as long as it’s the truth. I wait for him to tell me I’m his muse.
He takes another sip of his drink as the waiter returns with the bottle of champagne and two glasses. He pours while Julian watches me. I take a sip, and damn, this is good. A small smile escapes as the bubbles dance on my tongue.
“Truth?” I nod. “Okay, the truth is, I don’t know, Harper. From the time I bumped into you looking like sex on a stick in that skirt and those fuck-me heels, I was done for. It’s not about the chase, although, admittedly, you’ve made it fun. I like you. Every conversation we have, I want more. It’s like an invisible string, pulling me back to you. You’re different, and that’s hot as hell.”
Well. Wasn’t expecting that. There’s that word again. Different. I bite my bottom lip to ensure my mouth isn’t hanging open. I gulp the rest of my drink, dab my mouth with a napkin, and excuse myself. I need a minute.
If it’s possible to orgasm from words alone, that would have done it. I’m so turned on right now I want to ride him like Seabiscuit. I lock the door to the private restroom and take a deep breath. Yeah, not helping. I feel my core heating, pulsing, demanding satisfaction. What the hell? I reach between my legs and I’m wet, aching. I’ve never had a physical reaction to anyone like I am with Julian, and if I don’t do something, I’m going to demand he fuck me in the booth before our dinner arrives. I close my eyes, picture his lips on mine, and touch myself. I’ve never done this outside of my bedroom, but I’ve never had a fantasy come to life right in front of me. It doesn’t take much until I’m holding on to the sink as I come on my own hand. It takes the edge off, but it’s not what I want.
I freshen up and return to our table to find Julian visibly troubled. “Something wrong?” I slide in next to him this time instead of across the table. I can’t take the distance anymore.
“Are you okay? You look flushed.” His hand palms my face, his eyes searching for a hint of my distress.
“I’m fine.” After dismissing his concern, I take in the amazing food spread on the table and my stomach growls in response. “Let’s eat.” I lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth, my lipstick a reminder of where my lips were. I raise my napkin to wipe it off, and he stops me.
“Leave it,” he says under his breath, putting his hand on mine, pushing the napkin away. Apparently, he enjoys being marked by me. I store that information away. For later.
He’s pleased with himself as I take the best parts of each entrée to make a perfect dinner plate for each of us. Indulging me is risky, but he evidently finds it amusing. I should warn him it’s like feeding the gremlins after midnight. Dire consequences ahead.
We eat in silence, the clinking of the silverware the only sound coming from our table. Sexual tension permeates the air and holds a promise of what’s coming. My champagne glass remains consistently full, thanks to the attentive waiter, causing me to honestly lose track of how much I’ve had to drink. Again.
The silence serves a purpose. I’ve been having conversations with myself, sorting through my feelings about being his muse, his secret, and how I feel about him. How much grace do I give Julian before I call him out? On a scale of one to ten, how much does it mean to me he hasn’t shared? Should I sort this out before I fuck his brains out? What’s his motivation and perspective? What’s mine? Should I drop the badass persona and give him a taste of being vulnerable? Would he return the gesture? When I’ve finished, I push my plate away and turn to Julian. His full attention is on me.
“Zac told me I was different too.” At the mention of Zac, he stiffens. I smile softly and run my palm down his freshly shaven cheek. “I struggle with that word because as women, we’re taught different is wrong, not cool, whatever. In theory, we tell people to embrace uniqueness, but when it comes to self-talk, well, it’s a little harder to accept. All that to say, I feel like I can be myself around you. It means more to me than you know and, um, well, thank you.”
His hand lands on my thigh above my boot and tugs on the hem of my skirt. His fingers trail a lazy circle right below the hemline. “Is this another part of you, or were you making a point? Because if so, I’m paying attention.”
“Can it be both?” I ask playfully. “Truth or Dare?”
His stormy blue eyes sear into my soul as his hand moves a few inches under my skirt. “Dare.”
“Dare it is.” I dare him to rock my world. But then again, he already has, and the night is still young.