Chapter 36
thirty-six
I feel like an over-wound toy. Tick , tick , tick ing with every hour that passes.
My entire life has become an ongoing muddle of anxiety and dread. I feel physically ill every time I consider the decision hanging over my head.
And, in the rare moments when I’m not consumed by all that shit, I worry about Christian.
Last week, he called me twice in four days. But now, I haven’t heard from him in seven.
Does that mean he’s okay? Better, maybe? Or much worse?
I really don’t know.
Tick, tick .
In all the uncertainty, I have only one thing to look forward to.
Counting the minutes until Juliet walks into my apartment keeps me sane. I find myself tracking them way more than I should.
Sometime around lunch, Grayson texts asking if I want to go out for drinks tomorrow and informs me that Ella planned a “girls’ night.” The thought of not being able to run home to Jules after work pisses me off. I tell him I’ll get back to him and spend the rest of the afternoon stewing.
By the time work ends, I’ve gone from angry and anxious to exhausted and depressed. I shuffle from the elevator to my door, not even bothering to pick my feet up off the ground. I secretly hoped Jules would be here again, in my clothes, humming to the music she chose and stirring some new, amazing food on my stove.
Instead, cold silence greets me.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick .
I stand on the threshold of the great room for a beat, looking at all of my shit, feeling hollow inside. Aside from the mad dash to get out the door for work every morning, I haven’t really been alone in my place since Saturday. Without Juliet invading my space, the apartment seems as empty as I feel.
“Graham?”
Instant, blessed relief erupts through me. Juliet stands behind me on my threshold, looking polished and beautiful in a simple black dress, her raven hair swept up in a series of shiny braids.
Spinning blindly, I scoop her into my arms and flatten her back to the wall of my hallway before the front door swings closed behind her. Letting her bag drop to the hardwoods, she melts into me without hesitation. Like she knows I can’t take a fight.
Or maybe she can’t, either.
Our mouths meet that same second, open and desperate for each other. Jules’s moan vibrates against my lips and sends a bolt of lightning down my spine. Our tongues slide together. My cock hardens and pulses.
Her hands curl into my hair while mine roam up her body and fit around the swells of her breasts. Even through her dress and bra, I feel her nipples tighten.
Wild for her, I shove her coat down her arms and fumble for the zipper at her back. Her panties hit the floor. She unloops my tie and shucks my jacket and vest. I push her dress down to pool around her belted waist and lift her higher, wrapping her legs around my naked torso.
A groan rumbles in my chest when her wet heat grazes my abs. “Juliet,” I whisper, nearly delirious. “Thank God.”
She runs her fingers through my hair again, softly this time. Her next kiss comes slower than the last.
“I’m here,” she murmurs, somehow understanding everything I can’t say. Her fingertips trail lightly over my brow. “I want you. Get inside me. Please .”
With an incoherent growl, I reach between us to find her soaked center and rub my thumb over her until she gasps. A burst of molten wetness slips over my fingers, and I fumble for my wallet—specifically, the condom stashed inside it.
Juliet splays her fingers over my naval, halting me. “You don’t need it,” she whispers. “I’m on birth control. And I just went for a checkup last month. There hasn’t been anyone else.”
Our eyes meet for one breathless moment as her meaning sinks in. She wants me bare, without anything separating us.
She trusts me.
I hate to deny her. And myself. But I haven’t been as careful as her. Sure, I think I’m clean. I’m not one-hundred percent sure, though. And as much as I want what she’s offering, I absolutely refuse to risk her health.
I lay my hand over her fingers, staring into her. “Next time,” I murmur back, “I promise .”
I’ll go to a clinic in the morning. The city has dozens of same-day testing sites. I can get tested and write a donation check to cover every patient they see tomorrow.
Juliet seems to read my thoughts. She bites her full bottom lip but doesn’t argue. “Okay,” she whispers. “Do you want me to turn around?”
That would be easier to maneuver. Ordinarily, I’d drop to my knees to lick her, then flip her around to take her from behind.
But that thought doesn’t appease the pulsing ache in my chest.
I want her close .
“No,” I confess, staring into her eyes. “I don’t.”
If I ever worried we weren’t on the same wavelength, I never will again. She knows exactly what I mean. Understanding flashes through her features, leaving her eyes wide and her lips trembling. For a moment, she hesitates, on the cusp of shrinking back.
I’m not exactly a godly man, but I find myself praying she won’t, this time.
Because—ah, hell—I need her.
Not her body. Not her pussy. Not her perfect curves.
I need Juliet .
Her face. Her eyes. The way we connect when she looks into me.
She gives me all of that and more, gazing at me as she lightly brushes her lips over mine and then takes the condom from me without another word.
The warmth of her fingers gliding up my shaft nearly makes me pant. I clench my teeth, trying to get a grip before slamming into her.
Juliet’s touch skims over my tense jaw next. “Hey,” she says quietly. My gaze flickers back to her molten honey depths. “I’m here, Graham. I’m right here .” Her cool hand caresses my face, gentling the riot inside me. “I want it like this, too.”
I can’t breathe. My lungs tighten to the point of pain while I position myself. A ragged groan tears out of me when I push inside, finally bringing us together.
Juliet cries out, arching her body into mine. “ Graham ,” she gasps, gripping my hair to tug my mouth back to hers. I kiss her deeply, rocking into her with the same desperate urgency that made me grab her in the first place. When I strum my thumb over clit, her moan breaks our kiss.
Our torn breaths mingle. I press our foreheads together and watch her face, reading her cues while I stroke her.
Tension evaporates from her brow. Her lips fall slack. I know I have the right spot when her pussy clamps around my cock with every plunge.
She murmurs something against my cheek, slipping into her native language. I love that. I take it as the highest compliment that I can fuck her right out of her mind. Even though I don’t understand most of it, I catch one word clearly. She says it melodically, sighing while her eyes flutter closed.
“ Amado .”
It sounds sweet. I nuzzle my nose against her temple and press on her clit. Her body tightens down on mine while I murmur my own endearment back to her. “ Bijou . Christ, you’re so beautiful. You make everything better.”
My voice sounds strained. From the delirious pleasure licking up my spine or the hoarse lump in my throat? Both, probably.
A second later, it doesn’t matter. Juliet rears up slightly, moving to adjust the slide of my cock. I feel her quicken instantly and go wild, surging into her snug heat again and again.
She sobs out more unfamiliar words as she comes. Unable to tear my gaze from her face, I fuck her until she goes limp in my arms, then push in as deeply as I can and lose myself.
The feel of her stroking my hair brings me back to Earth. I realize I’ve buried my face into her neck when the warm spice of jasmine fills my nose. My lips brush over her skin, unable to stop kissing her.
Because I love her .
For the first time, the revelation doesn’t make me recoil or panic. I nestle deeper into Juliet, letting her hold on as stillness washes over me.
I love her. So damn much.
I’m complete and crushed all at once. How did this happen? Do I have to tell her?
I lean back just far enough for us to look at each other. Glowing gold eyes roam over my face, seeing more than I bargained for. Her lips roll into a tight line and she casts her gaze to the floor. “We should…”
Right . I’m still in her.
Disengaging, I lower her to her feet and roll the condom off before re-doing my fly. While I stalk into the kitchen to toss the rubber, Juliet rights her dress.
She leaves her heels among the wreckage and floats into the kitchen after me. “Could you…?” she mumbles, presenting me with her open zipper and a glorious glimpse of her naked back. Wordlessly, I zip her up, bending to drop a kiss on her nape before the gold clasp seals fabric over it.
For a second, she seems nervous. Almost like she can sense everything I’m not saying, despite my best efforts to keep the intrusive thoughts from my features.
But then, my bijou returns. Hard as stone, sharp as glass. She tosses her head back and lifts her stubborn little chin at her work bags.
“I have arepas for dinner if you’d like some,” she informs me, all business. “I’ve written a few very rough drafts for you to review. I’ve also brought over research on various topics. It’s a lot. I probably should have gone to a print shop. I felt bad using Stryker I have to finalize the plan for his portfolio, too.”
Juliet smiles widely. “As in, The McAllister Group? Nice job, pinchao . We’ll work on his contract first.”
The pride beaming in her expression nearly weakens my knees. Christ. I need a drink .
I grab two glasses, only allowing myself one word lest my voice give me away. “Wine?”
She nods absently, moving to fetch her things from the threshold. “Maybe a Cabernet?”
As I uncork the bottle, Juliet kneels in my living room and carefully unpacks her files, laying them in straight piles spread over the rug.
I find myself wondering what my life would be like if I kept her here with me. Would we spend all our nights like this? Drinking wine and bouncing work issues off each other, loudly making love all over the apartment, and then sharing our meals in quiet contentment?
She would move her clothes into my closet, and we would probably end up fighting about that. We would argue about a lot of things, I suspect. And she’d just keep blowing me away with her brilliance and her fire.
Would she eventually let me hold her through the night instead of turning away? Would I tell her about Christian? Would she let me help her mother? Meet her famous Abuelita? Would we make family meals here, together ?
God, I want all of it. So fucking bad.
Still shirtless, I do my best to keep my stride loose as I deliver her wine, dangling the glass over her shoulder. “Here, baby.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t glance back and see the yearning all over my face. She accepts the glass right away, without mentioning my casual pet name. “Oh, perfect.”
I lower myself to the floor, drinking down half of my glass in three gulps.
Mellow out , I tell myself. You don’t want to scare her off .
When I near the bottom of my drink, I find it a little easier to breathe.
Juliet sets to work laying out our arepas , placing three foil-wrapped bundles beside me. She sips her wine and licks her lips, oblivious to the way I stare.
Because, you know— I love her .
Fuck, this is a mess.
“Okay,” she starts, grabbing the stack of paper closest to her. “The first order of business…”