34. Juliette
JULIETTE
I ’m not sure when it happened, but I’ve stopped thinking about Upside Down Rock as a place I came when I was a kid and started thinking of it as our place. Mine and Roman’s.
But now, for the first time in my life coming here, anxiety feels like it’s choking the life out of me, and I don’t know why.
It could be because I texted Roman to meet me here, and he didn’t respond.
Or maybe it’s because I had my tongue halfway down his throat and it’s all I’ve been able to think about, even though I have a “date” with Preston coming up next week.
Or perhaps it’s because Frederick told me—in front of Tyler, no less—that Roman and I had photos that were about to go live on The Rosebrook Rag until he stopped them. And that Roman already knows.
I thought Tyler was about to explode from how red his face got and how tightly his fists clenched. He stormed off and hasn’t answered my phone calls since. I’m worried sick to death over the thought of him running to my dad and telling him, but I have to trust that he won’t.
Still, I pull out my phone and shoot off another text to him while I wait for Roman to—hopefully—show up.
Me:
Ty, PLEASE. Let me explain.
My stomach jolts when he replies, finally .
Tyler:
I can’t even fucking talk to you right now, how could you? A Montgomery, Jules? Really?
Me:
Don’t tell anyone. Please.
My heart is in my throat, hands shaking while I wait for him to reply.
Tyler:
Fine. But you better have a damn good reason. I could kill you myself for being so reckless.
I blow out a sigh of relief, but anxiety has latched onto my edges already; there’s no getting rid of it.
By the time Roman shows up, I’m so frazzled that I burst forward at the first crunch of his boots on the trail.
“How could you not tell me?” It comes out sharp, like an accusation. My voice soars over the space, and I can almost see the illusion of hands shoving against his chest from my tone.
He stops, the gravel grinding beneath his shoe. “Tell you what?”
I take two large steps over to him. I’m not even sure why I’m so angry, but I am, and he’s here, so he’s getting my overload of emotion.
“That there were pictures of us,” I snap. “That Freddy came to your house and warned you, and you didn’t even have the decency to text me about them.”
His mouth pops open, and I move forward, shoving his shoulders. “Are you trying to get us caught? It’s like you don’t even care.”
He grips my wrists, and his eyes are serious as they bounce between mine, a crease forming in his brows like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to work out. “Calm down.”
That just enrages me further, and I’m about to explode out of my skin.
I glare at him, my closed fists resting against his chest, his fingers warm and firm where he’s holding me.
“Don’t you tell me to calm down. You think this is a game?
I’m trying to protect you and your sister, mind you, and you just don’t even?—”
“I never asked you to do that,” he cuts me off.
“You didn’t have to,” I reply.
“And just what are you protecting me from, Little Rose?” he asks, his fingers tightening around my wrists. “You act like I’m the bad guy, like my dad is the one who’s the villain, and here you are with me, anyway.”
He leans down, his nose brushing against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
I shiver.
“Is it because deep down you know that your family is up to no good? That they aren’t the heroes you pretend they are?”
His voice is a low rasp, but he might as well have shouted the words for how much they vibrate through me.
“That’s not…”
I trail off, because I’m not sure why I feel this way.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just know that if something were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself.”
“And why’s that?”
My heart pounds against my ribs. “Because you mean too much to me.”
He groans, and then his mouth comes down on mine.
Immediately, I melt into him, my fists unclenching and my hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as I give into the feeling.
All I really wanted him to do was kiss me, anyway. Honestly, I can’t even remember what I was so mad about in the first place.
A moan tears from my throat as we collide.
It’s almost brutal with intensity. He kisses me like he’s desperate, like he’s been on the edge of snapping for too long and I’m the only thing left to hold him together.
His tongue slips across the seam of my lips, licking into me like he owns the space and is staking his claim, and I press into him, my body molding to his like it was made to fit there.
His hands find my waist, strong and rough and firm , and he lifts me like I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around him and then the kiss breaks—his lips shiny and his breathing ragged—and his eyes are molten lava as they pour over me.
“You think I don’t care?” Leaning down, he presses his mouth to mine again, his teeth sinking into my flesh and nipping just hard enough to sting. “You think I don’t worry every single second that even thinking too much about you will take you away for good?”
His words slam into my chest and burrow deep.
“Stop thinking about me, then,” I say breathlessly, before I put my hands around his neck and drag him down to me.
He grunts into my mouth, his hands sliding along the sides of my body and cupping underneath my ass, and I’m not sure who does what when, but somehow, we end up with my back against the trunk of a tree, his hips flush against mine.
“Impossible,” he rasps. “You’re all I think about.”
I can feel him. Thick and hard and pressed right up against me. He thrusts once, his hips grinding into mine, and even through our clothes, his cock slides right where I need him. My body jolts, the bark of the tree scratching my skin.
The pain feels kind of good, and my head spins from lust.
He laves kisses down my neck, licks a stripe over my pulse point, and then bites, just enough to make me whimper.
His hands feel like they’re everywhere, one holding me up against the tree and the other slipping beneath my shirt and tracing the curve of my waist before dipping lower.
He nips my lips again. “You taste like sugar.”
I can only mewl, words having left me the second he started touching me.
This is all I’ve wanted. It’s what I’ve thought about since I was lying on his couch in his apartment, and he was drawing me from across the room.
His fingers are under the waistband of my pants now, teasing, like he’s asking me for permission. “Let me touch you,” he begs.
“Touch me,” I tell him.
His hand finds my clit immediately and starts a torturous rhythm, slow circles that do nothing but ramp up my absolute blinding need until my vision goes hazy and I’m gripping onto the back of his head, tufts of his hair clenched in my fists as I ride the wave that’s so close to cresting.
“Fucking soaked,” he grits out, dragging the pads of his fingers through the mess between my thighs and down to my entrance.
He doesn’t push in, he just hovers.
“Your pretty pussy is crying for me, Juliette. You’re about to make a mess all over my hands while you come against a tree, aren’t you?”
A quick rush of fire licks at my spine as he continues to tease me, never touching me enough to give me the pressure that I need. I gasp, clutching at the back of his head, gripping tight while my body bucks helplessly into his palm.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “You get one stroke of my fingers in your tight little cunt and you’re not even thinking anymore, are you? Tell me how bad you need it, baby.”
This is torture .
“Use your words, Little Rose.” His face is pressed against the side of mine, his breath hot against my ear. “Tell me that you want to be handled. ”
“Yes,” I admit, although I’m sure I’ll regret giving in so easily later. “ Please .”
He smirks, and then his fingers are in me, sinking deep and curling instantly, like he’s known this whole time the exact angle my body needs. His mouth crashes back into mine, tongues tangling, and his other arm holds me tight, locking me in place against the tree like he’s chained me there.
He works me relentlessly, with no hesitation. Just a devastating pressure and a controlled slide. In, out, curl them up and pet that spot inside that makes my vision go dark.
My mouth falls open and my hips jerk.
“God,” I gasp out.
His teeth nip my jaw, and he corrects, “ Roman .”
I start to answer his movements, rolling myself against his fingers, sinking down as much as I can, to feel him as deep inside me as possible.
“ Fuck , you’re so sexy,” he says, the words sounding as if they’ve been scraped from the deepest part of him. “Ride it, baby. Get yourself off on me. Let me see your beautiful face as you fall apart on my hand.”
His body is pressed so tight to mine that I can feel everything. His abs tightening. The flex of his forearm with every pump of his fingers. His palm grinds against my clit, rubbing in perfect circles, and he strokes me from the inside out like I’m a piano he’s meant to play.
“Look at you,” he groans. “Such a mess already and I’ve barely fucked you.”
Heat coils around my spine and collects low in my stomach, my clit pulsing for him. I’m so close.
I cry out, my body vibrating in his arms, bowing toward him.
“Roman, I’m so… I think I’m?—”
His nose brushes against mine, and his voice is low and commanding. “Come for me, Juliette.”
And fuck him for being able to direct me so easily, but I do. I break apart into a thousand tiny pieces, and if he wasn’t holding me to him, I think I’d scatter in the wind.
I ride that wave, my hips rolling into his palm and my pussy clenching around his fingers while I moan his name against a tree in the middle of the woods.
The tremors taper off slowly, but he stays in place, not moving. His hand is still buried inside me deep, his frame anchoring me like he knows I might float away if he doesn’t.
My legs go lax, my breath hitches, and I drop down from where I’m sure my thighs bruised his hips. I feel almost boneless.
Our eyes lock, and his fingers leave me slowly, dragging them against my clit on the way out, and sending an aftershock zipping up my spine.
He never drops my gaze as he brings them up to his mouth and licks them clean.