Chapter 21
Juniper’s wet hair was sticking to her neck. I couldn’t look at it. I couldn’t look at her at all, really.
She was sitting in the passenger seat like a damn saint. Legs crossed, arms folded over her chest, like we hadn’t —
Jesus.
I shifted in my seat and tried to focus on the road. The seatbelt was pressing right against the wet spot in my shorts and I was never going to know peace again.
The radio was on. Loud. Some synthy alt-pop thing with way too much breathy moaning. I turned the volume down. Then back up. Then down again.
From the corner of my eye, I saw her smile.
“I had fun,” she said finally, like we’d just played mini golf or something. “Thank you for inviting me.”
I made a strangled noise.
Juniper laughed, soft and smug. “You didn’t?”
“I — It’s not — That’s not what I meant.”
She shifted, deliberately, crossing her legs the other way. “Okay.”
I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “I just — We — It was kind of a public setting for—”
“A friendly swim,” she offered.
My eye twitched. “You are the actual devil.”
She bit back a grin, chewing the inside of her cheek. “You didn’t look like you were suffering.” She lifted her hand towards me… towards my —
“I’m dangerously close to crashing this car, Juniper Haddock.”
We pulled up in front of her house, and I put the car in park with a little too much force. She didn’t move to get out right away.
The silence grew.
She unbuckled slowly, glancing at me through her lashes. “So…”
“So.”
“That was… a lot. I’m going to have bruises on my hips from how hard you gripped me.”
I groaned a half-hearted apology.
“Might be sexy,” she whispered.
I pressed a hand over my face.
She reached for the door handle, paused. “You okay?”
“No.”
A smile curled on her lips again, softer this time. She leaned in close — too close — like she was going to kiss me again, and I just sat there like a man being eaten alive.
But instead, she stopped just shy of my cheek and whispered, “Sleep tight, Ansel.”
And then she was gone.
I sat in the car for a full minute before I remembered how to breathe.
And then I drove home.
I stared at the ceiling. I had turned off the TV hours ago, maybe. Time didn’t exist anymore. There was only before Juniper climbed into my lap and after.
My hair was still wet from the shower I’d taken as soon as I got home — because, let’s be honest, I was disgusting. Filthy. Deranged. Still half-hard even after getting myself off again in the goddamn shower.
And now?
Now I was lying in bed like a teenage boy who just saw a bra strap for the first time.
I rolled over and groaned into my pillow.
I should text her.
I should not text her.
I sat up, then laid back down.
I was a professional. I was a grown man. I had a mortgage.
I could handle a hot woman climbing into my lap and rubbing against me until I literally lost control of my bodily functions. I could be normal.
Right?
I was not being normal. I was being weird and stiff and sweaty. Like some virginal little church boy who’d just been blessed with the presence of a goddess and now didn’t know what to do with himself.
Which was insulting.
I had game. I had experience. I —
She was still on my skin. Her mouth, her laugh, her thighs, the way she moved on top of me like we weren’t surrounded by producers and actors and chlorinated sin.
God.
I snatched my phone, anything to distract me from the thought of her thighs clenched around my waist and her breathy little gasps in my ear.
I was mid-scroll on her Instagram — just to see if she posted anything, okay? — when my phone started ringing.
MOM
“Shit,” I muttered, sitting up and praying I could sound a little less… strung up than I felt.
“Hey ma,”
“Ansel!” I could hear something egregious in her voice. That scared me. “Who is she?”
“Who—” But I didn’t have time to finish.
“The girl in the picture. Your cousin Eloise sent the family group chat a link to a celebrity article. I’ll send it to you!”
My phone buzzed again, and I really, really, dreaded opening a gossip site.
Oh, hell.
It was us. Poolside. Her knees around me, her arms around my neck, my face buried against her throat like I was either about to die or had just been resurrected. I looked wrecked. Because I was.
God.
My hands were on her ass.
I don’t even remember grabbing her ass.
“Y-yeah,” I stammered, embarrassment creeping up my throat.
My mother had seen this picture.
“It’s not — she’s — It’s not what it looks like.”
“Mm-hm,” she hummed, and somehow it hurt. “I’ve just never seen you hold someone like that.” She paused, as if for dramatic effect. “Not even that one woman who convinced you to marry her, Anse.”
I buried my face in my hands.
“She must be special.”
I pressed a hand over my face. “Yeah. It was a nice event.”
“Oh, stop. You’re blushing, I can hear it.” A brief pause. “Tell me about her.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry. “She, uh… her name’s Juniper.”
“Pretty name. You looked like you really like her.”
I laughed. A little too loud. “I — yeah. She’s great.”
Another beat of silence. Then, sweetly, “You look smitten, honey.”
I said nothing. Just lay back on my bed, trying to breathe through the visual of Juniper's hips rocking against mine, her mouth open, that little gasp in my ear —
“I’m happy for you,” Mom said gently. “You’ve always been such a romantic.”
I nearly choked. I’m too fucking old for this.
“Anyway,” she went on, blissfully oblivious to my slow, aching demise, “just wanted to say hi. You should bring her by sometime. I’d love to meet the girl who made you look that dreamy.”
“Sure,” I said faintly. “Someday.”
My dick twitched just thinking about Juniper. About her smile, her laugh, the terrible terrible glint in her eyes when she’s won.
My entire being twitched.
I was going to die.