Chapter 17 #2
Some guy edges closer, clearly checking her out. I growl low in my throat and pull her tighter against me. She feels the vibration and tilts her head back to look at me.
“Possessive much?”
“Just playing the part,” I say, but my voice comes out rougher than intended.
“Are you?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Because I think you actually like this.”
Another guy tries to cut in, tapping my shoulder. “Mind if I—”
“Yes, I mind.” I don’t even look at him, keeping my eyes on Juliet.
She bites her lip, suppressing a smile. “You know what?”
I look down at her. Always down. Her head barely reaches my chest, and it kills me she still squares up like she’s taller than me. “What?”
“I like it when you get all growly and protective.”
That admission hits me like a puck to the chest. “Juliet—”
“It’s kind of hot,” she continues, completely unaware of what her words are doing to me. “The way you look at other guys when they get too close. Like you want to murder them.”
“Maybe I do.”
She laughs, spinning to face me again. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. “My big, scary fake fiancé.”
The way she says it, breathless and teasing, makes something snap inside me. I’ve been watching her dance for an hour, the way her body moves, the way she keeps looking at me with those dark eyes. She’s been testing me, pushing my buttons, seeing how far she can go.
“You’ve been doing this on purpose,” I say, backing her toward a slightly quieter corner of the dance floor.
“Doing what?”
“Teasing me. All night.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But her smile says otherwise.
“The way you dance. The way you look at me. Pushing that guy toward Ivy just to see my reaction.”
“And what if I were?”
Before I can second-guess myself, I cup her face and kiss her. She melts into me immediately, her hands fisting in my shirt. I want to fucking devour her.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Hunter—”
“I know this is fake,” I say against her lips. “But right now, I don’t care.”
She stares up at me, pupils dilated. “What are you saying?”
That I want to drag her out of this club. How desperately I want to find the nearest hallway and press her against the wall. I want to slide my hands under that tiny skirt and make her forget her own name.
“I’m saying—”
“Oh my God!” Wren’s voice cuts through the music as she stumbles toward us, clearly hammered. “You two are so cute!”
The moment shatters. Juliet steps back, smoothing her dress, and I run a hand through my hair.
Ryan appears, looking apologetic. “Sorry, she got away from me.”
“Did you see them kissing?” Wren asks loudly, pointing at us. “It was like a movie!”
“Okay, party animal,” Ryan says, scooping her up. “Time to go home.”
“But the night is young!” Wren protests as he throws her over his shoulder.
“I’m not a lightweight! I’m fun!”
“You’re drunk.”
“This is so embarrassing.” Wren giggles. “But also kind of hot.”
Ryan’s face goes red as everyone laughs. “Thanks for including her tonight. She needed this.”
“Anytime,” Juliet says warmly. “Text when you get home safe.”
As they leave, I look back at Juliet. Although the spell broke, the heat between us was still simmering under the surface.
“We should probably—” she starts.
“Yeah. We should.”
But neither of us moves for a long moment, the music pounding around us, the tension thick enough to cut.
The night continues around us in a blur of music and laughter. Fans start flooding the VIP section despite security, and I get increasingly protective as random guys try to approach our group.
“How the hell did they get past security?” Thorne mutters.
“Social media,” Grayson says grimly. “Someone posted our location.”
One particularly aggressive fan pushes too close to me. “Hunter! You can chainsaw me anytime!” she shouts, grabbing at my arm.
I push away from her. “Back off, puck bunnies.”
“Come on, just one picture!”
“I said back off.” I step further away, disgusted.
Juliet grabs my arm, looking angry.
“Don’t use that term.”
“What term?”
She narrows her eyes and shakes a finger at me.
“Puck bunny. No one ever has shit to say about hockey players getting laid left and right. But the world is really eager to call any woman who so much as looks at one of you funny a puck bunny. It’s fucked up and sexist.”
Honestly, I had no idea that Juliet held that in. I practically swallow my tongue. “Right. Sorry.”
She nods, satisfied. “They’re just fans. Misguided, but fans.”
Eventually, the rookies get too sloppy, and the veterans corral them toward the exits. Ivy vanishes with a random guy, and Juliet looks worried until I tell her I saw them leave together.
“I’m ready to go,” Juliet finally says, leaning against me.
I practically bolt for the exit. “Let’s go.”
She makes sure The Coven gets into Ubers safely before we leave. She’s always taking care of everyone else first.
We ride home together in the back of an Uber. Juliet’s tipsy and leans against me, her head on my shoulder. I don’t take advantage. I just let her rest against me and try not to think too hard about the warm feeling spreading through my chest.
“You smell good,” she mumbles against my shirt.
“Thanks.”
“Like danger and... wood?”
“It’s called cologne, Firecracker.”
“Mmm. I like it.”
She curls up against me. I want to kiss her again, but I think she’s falling asleep on top of me.
When we get home, I help Juliet out of the Uber and up the elevator.
She giggles; she’s had too much to drink for me to get handsy, but that doesn’t stop her from turning and kissing me at the door.
Her mouth is heaven. Soft, warm, and sweet.
For a second, I forget everything and kiss her back.
The world slows down, the moment narrowing. It’s just the two of us right here, right now, and she tastes delicious. She parts her lips and I dip her back a bit, growling as I sweep my tongue against hers.
Then I remember she’s drunk and gently stop her.
“Juliet.”
“What?”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m tipsy. There’s a difference.”
I help her out of those ridiculous heels and walk her to her room. “Come on. Bedtime.”
She strips down without hesitation, her skirt hitting the floor, her bra landing on my shoe. I immediately look away, focusing on turning down her sheets.
“You’re no fun,” she complains, but she’s smiling.
I almost smile back.
I get her water and ibuprofen from the bathroom. “Drink the water. Take the pills in the morning.”
“You’re taking care of me.”
“I’m making sure you don’t die of dehydration.”
“Same thing.”
I make sure she’s tucked in and leave her door cracked open in case she needs anything.
Later, in my room, I pull out my sketchpad. I try to draw her from memory. Her eyes when she laughed at something Wren said. The way she smirked when she caught that fan trying to flirt with me. The soft way she looked at me in the Uber.
I think about how fun the night was. How different she was out there. Loose, wild, magnetic. If she were anyone else, I’d say I was developing a little crush on my not-fiancée.
But she’s not anyone else. She’s Juliet Monroe. She’s way too good for someone like me… even if tonight made me forget that for a few hours.