Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
Keane
This is the first time in a long time that I’ve woken up without that gnawing dread clawing at my chest. Sunlight filters through the curtains, soft and golden, streaking across the room like a warm embrace. I blink against it, disoriented for a moment, the unfamiliar surroundings tugging me back to the day I woke up from the coma.
It’s okay, I remind myself, taking in the soothing lavender scent that lingers on the pillow next to mine. The bed is softer than I’m used to, the sheets tangled around me in a way that feels intimate, comforting.
Lavender.
Julie.
My Julie.
The realization creeps in, warm and inevitable, like the sun reaching every corner of the room. I’m in Julianna Valencia’s bed.
I turn my head, and there she is. Curled on her side, her hair a dark wave of silk against the pillow: her lips are slightly parted; her breathing soft and rhythmic; her body relaxed in sleep. The sight of her stirs something deep in my chest—a mix of awe and something terrifyingly close to hope.
We’ve slept in the same room before—those nights at the hospital, while Rayne was sick. But this? Waking up here, in her home, in her bed? It’s different. It’s intimate. It’s . . . us.
Us, fuck, is that what’s happening?
Saying I love you wasn’t scary, but I’m afraid I’ll fuck up just like I’ve done in the past. I’m sure my therapist will have a field day with me when we talk about this.
Last night, we fell asleep tangled in each other, her body pressed to mine, her warmth grounding me in a way I didn’t think possible. We didn’t have sex—not entirely. There were other things, things that left my body humming with satisfaction, but I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want her, but because being inside her felt monumental like crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
Also, I didn’t have condoms with me. How pathetic is it thata man my age doesn’t carry condoms? In my defense I haven’t had sex in a very long time.
Beside the lack of prophylactics, I don’t regret holding back. Not when she looks like this—peaceful, glowing, her bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the sheet. Her skin catches the light, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and trace the curve of it with my fingertips and mouth.
She stirs, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks before her eyes slowly open. For a moment, she just looks at me, her gaze soft, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips.
“Morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky, laced with the remnants of sleep.
“Morning, beautiful,” I reply, my voice low, rough for the morning. My eyes drift lower, and it hits me again—she’s naked beneath the sheets, just like me. The fabric barely clings to her curves, teasing me, and my body reacts instantly, heat pooling low in my stomach.
She stretches lazily, the sheet slipping down her chest, exposing more of her skin. My pulse quickens, and I know she notices because her smile turns playful, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“You’re staring,” she teases, her voice soft but full of amusement.
“Can you blame me?” I counter, my hand reaching out on instinct, my fingertips brushing the delicate line of her collarbone. Her skin is warm, inviting, and I let my touch linger, tracing the curve of her shoulder.
Her gaze holds mine, and for a moment, the playful spark fades, replaced by something deeper. “Last night,” she begins, her tone uncertain.
“Was perfect,” I interrupt, my hand slipping down to cup her cheek. “You were perfect.”
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she leans into my touch, her lips brushing against my palm in a way that sends electricity racing through me.
“Keane,” she whispers, her voice soft, but there’s a need in it that matches my own.
I lean in, my lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s both gentle and demanding, pouring every unspoken word into it. She melts against me, her body pressing closer, and any hesitation I felt earlier disappears.
This moment, this connection—it’s ours, and I’m done holding back.
Her kiss deepens, and her fingers skim over my chest, igniting a trail of heat wherever she touches. The hesitation in her movements is gone, replaced by a certainty that leaves me breathless. She shifts, pressing her body closer, her leg sliding over mine until she’s straddling me, her warmth sinking into my skin.
“Julie,” I murmur, my hands gripping her hips, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. “What are you doing?”
She leans down, her lips brushing against my jaw before trailing to my neck. “What I should’ve done last night,” she whispers, her breath warm against my skin. Her hands slide lower, tracing the lines of my abdomen until she’s touching me, her fingers wrapping around my length with a confidence that sends a shudder through me.
I groan, my head falling back against the pillow as she strokes me, slow and deliberate. Every movement is a tease, a promise, and it’s driving me insane. My hands tighten on her hips, torn between letting her lead and taking control.
“Julie,” I manage, my voice raw, “I want you. But?—”
She silences me with a kiss, her lips capturing mine in a way that steals my breath. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with mine, filled with a fire that leaves no room for doubt.
“I want you too,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “I need you, Keane.”
My resolve wavers, and when she leans over to open the nightstand drawer, I’m completely undone. She pulls out a small foil packet, holding it up with a knowing smile. “You’re not getting away this time.”
I laugh, low and rough, my hands sliding up her thighs as she tears the packet open. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She moves with purpose, rolling the condom onto me with practiced ease. The sight of her, so focused, so in control, is enough to make my pulse race. When she meets my gaze again, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen, I can’t resist pulling her back down to me, kissing her deeply.
Her body presses against mine as she shifts, positioning herself over me. My hands find her hips, holding her steady as she sinks down, taking me inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat of her surrounding me, and I have to close my eyes for a moment to keep from losing it.
“Fuck, Jules,” I groan, my grip tightening as she takes me fully. “You feel . . . incredible.”
She gasps, her hands resting on my chest for balance as she adjusts to the sensation. “So do you,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly, but there’s no hesitation in her movements as she begins to roll her hips.
The rhythm she sets is slow at first, deliberate, her body moving in a way that has me completely mesmerized. I watch her, the way her head falls back, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the way her lips part with every breathy moan. She’s stunning, and I can’t help but reach up, my hands sliding over her waist, her ribs, her breasts, needing to feel every inch of her.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything, Julie.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the heat between us is eclipsed by something deeper, something I can’t quite put into words. She leans down, her lips brushing against mine as she whispers, “I’m yours, Keane.”
The words ignite something in me, and I sit up, my arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer. She cries out as the angle shifts, her hands clutching my shoulders as I begin to move with her, our bodies perfectly in sync.
The pace quickens, the air thick with our moans and ragged breaths, the bed creaking beneath us. It’s raw and intimate, every movement a silent vow of what we are to each other. Her nails rake down my back, and I embrace the sting, the way she clings to me like I’m her steady foundation.
“Keane,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body tenses, her movements growing frantic. “I’m—oh God, I’m so close.”
“Let go,” I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
And she does, her body arching against mine as she shatters, her cries filling the room. The sight of her, the feel of her, pushes me over the edge, and I follow her, groaning as my pleasure crashes through me.
We collapse together, her body still wrapped around mine, her head resting against my shoulder. I hold her close, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back as we catch our breath.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I whisper against her hair, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
She smiles, her arms tightening around me. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice sleepy and content. “You really are.”
“I love you, Julie,” I say before kissing her hard, hoping this is the beginning and not the end.