Chapter Eleven
Julia
My body comes to life when Alex kisses me. She bites my lower lip and slides her tongue against mine. It’s desperate and frantic, and it drives me absolutely crazy.
Forget all other kisses. This is the one I want to live in for the rest of my life.
I feel dizzy, like I’m drunk on something much stronger than alcohol. I’m not even aware of conscious thought other than how good she’s making me feel. I don’t even realize I’ve unbuttoned her shirt until I’m pushing it off her shoulders and reaching for her pants.
She pulls away and covers my hands with hers. Her eyes are wild, and her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. She’s losing control, too. I can tell by the way she looks at me. “Jules,” she says and licks her lips. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
Her words are like a blast of cold water, but I know what she means. If we don’t stop now, then we’re going to cross a line we won’t be able to come back from. The problem is, I’m already well over that line. Will she cross it with me or leave me here alone? “Do you want to do this? With me?”
She leans in a little, and I press my lips to hers.
“What are you afraid of?”
She exhales but doesn’t pull away, keeping her mouth against mine. “I’m scared it’ll ruin our friendship.”
She stands perfectly still while I grab the waistband of her linen pants and slip my hand just below the waistline. “Nothing could ever ruin that.”
Her fingers dig into my hips. “Promise?”
I look her in the eyes. “I promise.”
The hesitation disappears. She kisses me, just as frantic as before, and unties the back of my dress, causing it to fall to the floor. The air from the air conditioner is cold against my damp skin and causes goose bumps.
Or maybe they appear from the way she trails her fingertips down my arms. All I know is, I need more.
I push her pants all the way down while her mouth drags across my jaw and down my neck.
Her breath is warm as her lips move downward along my chest, then lower.
She drops to her knees and presses wet kisses on my stomach and hooks her fingers through the sides of my thong and slowly slides it down my legs, her mouth still pressed against my skin.
Once she pulls it off, she leans back and dangles it from her pointer finger with a knowing smirk on her lips.
A smart-ass comment hovers on the edge of my tongue, but I can’t seem to voice it. Not when she’s looking up at me like that. Not when she squeezes my hip. And definitely not when I know how intimate this has suddenly become.
She stands and slowly removes my bra. I watch as she takes in my naked body, her gaze thirsty and focused on my chest. Her hands settle high on my waist, and she pushes her palms upward, cupping my breasts. I bite back a moan as she kneads them and again when her thumbs brush across my nipples.
“If Wyatt McCann could see these now,” she teases.
It makes me laugh. “Shut up.”
She smiles, and I lean in to kiss her, allowing her to guide us backward toward the bed, and I climb into her lap once she sits. Our kisses have slowed. They’re deeper, more intimate. And somehow even more intoxicating.
I realize instantly that I like this position. I like being able to hover above her and have her head tilt back when we kiss. I especially like the way I can slide my fingers through her hair while she runs her hands all over me.
We slowly pull apart, and she opens her eyes only to stare into mine.
“You’re gorgeous, Jules.” I love how she says my name.
Reverently and full of love. Her gaze drops to my chest. It isn’t until she takes the bow and arrow pendant between her fingers that I realize she’s staring at my necklace. At her necklace.
“My good luck charm,” I tell her, and she looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. I think maybe I’m seeing her for the first time, too.
When I unhook her bra and cup her breasts, I marvel with how perfectly they fit in my hands. Like they were made for that purpose alone. For me and only me. Her nipples are already hard, and she presses into my hands when I squeeze them. They’re so soft.
She groans, then kisses me hard. It riles me up, and all I can think is I want more. I press down, seeking some kind of friction but find nothing to grind against. The need for her to touch me is so strong, so overwhelming, that I thrust again and again and again.
“Please,” I plead. “Touch me.”
Her hand slips between our bodies, her fingers sliding against me. I would be embarrassed at how wet I am if I wasn’t so desperate. She places a lingering kiss on the side of my jaw, and I sigh, rocking into her hand. “You feel so good,” she murmurs. “You’re so beautiful.”
She circles my clit once, twice, three times, and I know it won’t take me long. I want to slow down, to make it last, to memorize her words and her touch, but it feels too good to do anything but urge her to keep going.
Her mouth moves to the side of my neck, and she gently bites, drawing out another moan. Her fingers brush lightly against my entrance, and I wrap my arms around her shoulders just as her other hand presses harder into my lower back, keeping me steady.
Waiting.
“Please,” I say again. “I need you.”
Slowly, her fingers push inside me, and I fall forward, my forehead pressed against hers. I squeeze my eyes shut, in awe at how well we fit together, and rock my hips forward, easily matching her pace.
“That’s it,” she says hotly into my ear. “I’ve got you.” Her hand slides up my back, and she leans me back so she can place wet kisses along my collarbone.
It feels like heaven.
Her mouth closes around my nipple, and I ride her fingers, wondering how they’re able to fill me so completely.
I match her stroke for stroke, perfectly in sync.
Then she curls her fingers just right, playing my body as if she’s proficient, and coaxes out the sweetest, most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced.
Her name echoes through the room, a mantra, a chant, a sacred prayer, while bursts of color explode behind my eyelids.
“I’ve got you,” she says again, slowing her strokes and drawing out my climax.
When I’ve given her all I have, I drop my head on her shoulder, and she holds me close.
We’re hot and sweaty and panting, and all I want to do is kiss her.
I want to sink into her and lose track of where she starts and I end.
But my body shakes, her fingers still inside me, and I clench, wanting to keep them there for a moment longer.
I try to tell her how fucking incredible I feel, but all that comes out is a strangled kind of sob.
Her hand is in my hair, her fingers getting caught on some tangles, and she cups the back of my neck, keeping my head on her shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers.
And I can’t help but think that maybe she’s always had me.
I’m exhausted.
If checkout wasn’t at eleven, I’m pretty sure I’d crawl back into bed and sleep until dinner. I yawn and glance around the fairly crowded restaurant. It looks as if just about everyone in the hotel wandered down to catch the complimentary breakfast.
I find Chloe sitting alone at a table against the back wall, and I practically fall into the chair across from her. “Morning.”
“Morning.” She doesn’t bother covering her own yawn, and I notice she looks as tired as I feel. “No Alex?”
The mention of her name causes my cheeks to burn.
I stare at the sugar packets in their little white container and try to relax.
Just because I know we spent the night together doesn’t mean everyone else does.
It doesn’t help that images of waking up with my cheek pressed against her bare back and our legs entwined flash in my mind. “She’s showering.”
Chloe hums, not giving any indication that she’s aware of the monumental shift in my life.
I clear my throat and try to redirect this conversation to safer ground. “No Thom?”
“Nope.” She puts her chin in her palm like she’s bored.
“Uh-oh. What happened? I thought you two were…you know. Busy.”
“Ugh,” she groans. “We did. Well, we tried.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You tried? Please elaborate.”
She sighs. “He couldn’t get it up.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Unfortunately.” She grabs her water, looking annoyed but not exactly disappointed, which is interesting. “He did let me sit on his face, though.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Yeah.” She crosses her arms on the table. “But what about you? Did you sit on anyone’s face last night?”
Alex and I had a lot of fun trying new positions, but unfortunately, that wasn’t one of them. I kind of wish it was. A wave of heat and arousal surges through my body. It suddenly feels hot in here.
Chloe makes an excited kind of gasp. “You did! Was it that bartender who was hitting on you all night? George? Jacob?”
“Jensen. And no.” I retie my hair and press my hand to the back of my neck, hoping to cool off my skin. “Nothing happened with the bartender. He wasn’t hitting on me.”
“Jules. He invited you back to his apartment to show off his artwork. He was either hitting on you or trying to kill you.”
“He said he was having a party,” I remind her.
Chloe snorts. “Yeah, in his pants.”
I make a gagging sound. “Gross. Nothing happened with the bartender.”
Her eyes narrow, and she examines me like she does when she knows I’m lying. Except I’m not lying.
“But something happened with someone,” she presses.
Instead of answering, I crane my neck, wondering where the hell the server is so I can order some coffee.
“If it wasn’t Jensen, who was it? Because you obviously got some action last night. I can tell by how much you’re blushing.” She leans in close. “Was it someone you met at the bar?”
I somehow feel her before I see her, her presence folding over me like a warm blanket. Alex slides into the chair beside me smelling like bergamot and expensive conditioner. She has on a plain gray T-shirt and ripped jeans, and my body seems to wake up at her proximity.