Chapter 40
The movie barely registered.
I remembered laughing at a line… maybe, remembered the way she’d leaned closer to whisper something only I could hear. But mostly, I remembered how easy it felt — how natural. Like we weren’t on display, like there weren’t cameras outside waiting to pick us apart.
Like she was just mine.
She stayed close as the credits rolled, head still on my shoulder, her hand tangled with mine. And God, I let myself pretend for those two hours. Pretend that this wasn’t fake. That this — her, us — wasn’t something with an expiration date.
Back at the hotel, she groaned as she kicked off her heels, collapsing back onto the bed in a flurry of fabric.
“Not bad for a fake date, Barlowe,” she teased, voice light but her eyes soft.
“You make it easy, baby” I said before I could think better of it. Her lips parted. Just slightly. Like the words hit her somewhere she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
And then, because she was Juniper, she rolled her eyes and tossed a pillow at me. “You’re insufferable.”
I caught it easily, grinning like an idiot. “You love it.”
Her cheeks flushed as she tried — and failed — to hide her smile.
I was halfway to crawling onto the bed when my phone buzzed. My publicist.
Juniper nodded at it, lips twitching. “Answer it. I’ll wait.”
I swiped to accept. “Yeah?”
“Ansel Barlowe,” Marianne hissed, somewhere between furious and gleeful. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”
“Occasionally.”
“The internet is melting down. My girl? That kiss? Ansel, you’ve just handed me the best PR moment of your career. You are trending in fifty-four countries. I don’t even have to do my job tomorrow because you did it for me.”
I should’ve cared.
But I was watching Juniper — watching her laugh at something on her phone, watching the way she absently brushed her fingers along her collarbone like she didn’t know how beautiful she looked in my dress, my world, my everything.
“Yeah,” I murmured.
“Yeah, what?”
“Yeah, Marianne. This feels like it might be the best thing I’ve ever done,” I said quietly, eyes still locked on her.
There was a pause on the other end.
“God, you’re in trouble,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” I admitted, lips curving helplessly. “I really am.”
“Don’t ruin this Barlowe,” her voice changed — harsher now. “It’s the best press you’ve had in years. Half the internet wants to marry you, the other half wants to be her. Do not — do not — ruin this, Barlowe.”
“Duly noted,” I said before hanging up, tossing the phone onto the dresser without a second thought.
Juniper sank onto the edge of the bed, still holding her shoes like a shield. “So… I guess you just called me the one in front of half of Hollywood?”
I crouched down in front of her, slow, deliberate, taking the shoes from her hands and setting them aside. “Guess I did.”
Her eyes searched mine, wide and a little glassy. “Ansel…”
“Don’t freak out on me now, Junie,” I murmured, sliding my hands up her bare calves, thumbs brushing the soft skin there. My voice came out low, rough. “Hell of a night.”
She fiddled with the strap of her dress for a beat, not looking at me. “Um… Ansel?”
“Yeah, kid?”
Her gaze darted to mine, then away again. “Will you—” Her fingers twisted into the fabric at her side, knuckles white. “Will you help me with this zipper?”
Every nerve in my body lit up.
I rose slowly, giving her every chance to take it back. She didn’t. She just stood there, back straight, breathing shallow.
“Turn around,” I said, softer than I meant to.
She did, sweeping her hair over one shoulder.
My hands hovered for a second — don’t rush her, don’t ruin this — before I let my fingers skim the zipper. I tugged it down slowly, the sound absurdly loud in the quiet room. The line of her back was revealed inch by inch, warm skin begging for my hands.
“Junie…” My voice was barely a whisper.
Her breath hitched, just once. “Yeah?”
“You’re gonna kill me.”
She laughed — nervous, breathy — and it broke me.
The dress slipped down further, pooling around her waist.
When she looked back at me over her shoulder, nothing but the skin of her back and with that look in her eyes? It was over for me.
“You’re staring,” she teased, but her voice wobbled.
“Yeah,” I admitted, no shame, no apology. “Can’t help it.”
Without another beat, I snatched up the shirt I had slept in last night, holding it out for her. “Here, smells like me.” I winked, delighting in the blush that continued to darken her cheeks.
She glanced back at me. “Turn around, cowboy.” The words were soft, laced with anticipation and something else… something that set the blood in my veins alight.
“Yes, ma’am,” I obliged quickly, ducking my head as I spun around. I swore my heart stuttered as I heard the quiet stirring of air when she dropped the dress.
She turned back to pull my shirt on, letting the dress fall to the ground at her feet. And that’s when it hit me — there hadn’t been anything under the dress.
“I’m decent.” But her voice was anything but.
I couldn’t stop staring. The graceful line of her spine. The curve of her hips as the slip settled around her waist.
God.
There was a feeling in the air. I didn’t know if I was drunk on the high of the premiere, of the good press, or just being near her.
Who the hell was I kidding?
Of course it was her.
When I turned, her fingers were in her hair, plucking different pins and clips out of her locks. “You have to stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.
“Like what?” I took a step closer, heart racing, palms sweaty.
“Like you might consume me if you get too close.”
“And if I do?”
She swallowed, eyes never leaving mine as she discarded her hair pins. “It scares me, Ansel.”
“I know, baby.” Another step. It took everything in me not to raise my hands — approach her like a timid animal.
This was…
It was huge.
I couldn’t fuck this up.
Whatever this might be.
“You did so good tonight,” and she preened, the corner of her mouth tipping up so gently. “Marianne, my publicist, said that everyone wants to be you, June.”
“What?” Her voice was a little stronger now, sending a chill down my spine.
“That kiss, kid.” A step. “She said that you… we took the internet by storm.” I curled my fingers around her chin, tilting her gaze up to meet mine.
“But…” Her teeth worried her bottom lip as she avoided my eyes. “I’m — I’m nobody.”
Brushing a hair off of her forehead, I smiled. “When are you going to get it, June bug?” My forehead pressed against hers. My lips brushed hers with every word. “You’re it for me. You’re the only one who matters.”
Her breath hitched, her lashes fluttering shut like my words physically knocked the wind out of her. “You’ve got no idea how good you are, do you?” I whispered, my hand sliding from her chin to cup her jaw. “How fucking proud I am of you.”
“Ansel…” Her voice was paper-thin, shaky.
“Let me take care of you,” I said, my thumb stroking her cheekbone. “You looked so perfect tonight, baby. My perfect girl.”
She let out the softest, most broken little sound — God, it went straight to my dick.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I coaxed, stepping closer until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. “Let me show you how good you make me feel. How proud you make me, Junie.”
Her fingers twisted in the hem of my shirt, eyes wide, pupils blown. “Please.”
“Oh, sweetheart…” I tilted her chin up again, grinning against her lips. “That’s all you had to say.”
I kissed her slow at first, just long enough for her to melt, and then deeper, hungrier — pouring every ounce of restraint I hadn’t been using all night into my hands instead of my mouth.
My palms skimmed down her sides, squeezing her hips. “You know how hard it was, seeing you in that dress? Knowing you’re mine?” My voice was low, filthy. “With everyone looking at you, wishing they could be me. Wishing they could take you home and peel it off of you?.”
She gasped, trembling against me.
“But they can’t, can they?” I nipped at her bottom lip, hands already sliding beneath the shirt she wore. “Because you came home with me. To my hotel room. The prettiest fucking thing in the room — and you were on my arm.”
Her nails dug into my shoulders, and I laughed softly against her mouth. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Being mine?”
The little whimper she made was answer enough.
“Good,” I growled, guiding her backward onto the bed. “Then let me take care of you, kid. Let me make you feel how perfect you are.”
Her lips were parted, pupils blown wide as I climbed on top of her. “Where should we start, pretty girl?” I didn’t wait for an answer — my hands were already sliding higher, palms cupping her breasts through the soft cotton of my shirt.
“There you are,” I murmured, grinning when she arched into my touch. “God, I love your tits, Junie. You’ve been driving me crazy all night — just wanted to get my hands on you.”
Her breath hitched, head tipping back as my thumbs brushed over her nipples, teasing until they peaked beneath the thin fabric.
“Look at you,” I rasped, leaning back just enough to watch her. Her chest rose and fell quickly, nipples peaked and begging for my mouth. “Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. You want me to put my mouth on you, don’t you? You want me to suck these perfect tits until you’re begging?”
Her wide eyes met mine — pleading, desperate — and I grinned. “Yes,” she breathed, voice breaking.
“Yeah, you do.” My grin was wicked as I lowered my head, mouthing over one nipple through the shirt before tugging the fabric up and out of the way. “That’s better.”
The moment my mouth closed over her, her whole body arched. I sucked lightly, then harder, letting my tongue flick against the sensitive peak while my free hand toyed with the other, rolling it between my fingers.
“Sound so pretty when I touch you like this,” I murmured against her skin, nipping gently before soothing with my tongue. “Such a good girl for me. Letting me play with these gorgeous fucking tits.”