Grace
DECEMBER, YEAR 2
Dating Julian is far more fun than clashing with him all the time, though it still involves frequent disputes. Julian’s love language is winning our teasing arguments. The satisfied smile on his face every time I concede defeat is an addictive shot of dopamine.
I’m falling, yet floating. Flying high in the sky and sinking beneath an ocean of hectic heat. Somewhere in the space between Julian and me, someone is throwing sutures that connect my heart to him—a row of vertical mattresses in permanent silk, ever tightening.
I never wanted to feel this way again, but here I am.
In love.
I don’t believe in love, do I?
Is there a difference between in love and love ?
He squeezes dates in small crevices of our packed schedules—-restaurants, parks, Christmas light extravaganzas. I try to make him study, but I nearly always wind up beneath him on one of our couches, debating whether I’m ready to let him strip me bare and do whatever he wants to me.
I’m not ready.
I’ll never be ready.
Maybe I’m broken.
At Christmas, three thousand miles separate us as I fly home to my family and he travels to his, but I receive near constant texts from both him and Tori apprising me of their activities.
The most recent picture is Julian at a beachside bar, pointing his thumb at a sign behind him that reads As For Me and My House, We Will Serve Margaritas. Salt 24:7. He captions the picture, “Found this. Made me think of you.”
“What are you smiling about over there, angel baby?” Mom asks.
“Julian. He’s so cute.”
Mom snuggles next to me on the couch, peeking at the picture while she munches on a stalk of celery. My parents are on a cleanse in which they eat only green foods, though my dad keeps cheating with green Skittles.
Mom gasps. “Oh. He is cute.”
I grin down at the picture. From my peripheral vision, Mom’s stare pulls heat to the surface of my skin.
A soft smile plays at her mouth. “Is he good to you?”
I nod. “He’s—he’s wonderful.”
“Just be careful, baby. After last time—”
Ice water threatens to break through my levees, and I stop her. “I know, Mom. I don’t want to talk about Matt.”
It’s like a slap to the face, this reminder that I’m lacking the portion of my brain that knows how to make good judgments when it comes to men. Julian’s good now , but what happens when—
Mom sighs. “Come on. Let’s go make sugar cookies.”
Laughing, I follow her into the kitchen. “I thought you were on a cleanse.”
She waves her hand. “I’ll put green food coloring in it.”
Alone in my room later, I twist the tube of my Inappropriate Red lipstick and meet the eyes of my reflection in the mirror. With a small smile, I redden my lips before stripping off my shirt and red bra and lay facedown at the edge of my bed. Being sure to hide all the scandalous parts, I snap a selfie with the bra dangling by its strap from my fingertip. I hit Send before I overthink it.
Me: Found this. Made me think of you.
Three dots appear and disappear three times before his text comes through.
Julian: How’d you know I wear red bras
Me: Wild guess
Julian: You are so hot
My body flushes, heat collecting in intimate places.
Julian: Do you know what I would do to you if you’d let me?
“Oh my god.” Electricity comes to life in my skin. “What do I even say to that?”
Tell him to describe it.
What? No!
This horny hag in my mind is a bitch.
Me: You’re making me blush, Julian
Me: Please don’t send a dick pic
Julian: haha
Julian: No. I know what my girl likes.
He sends a picture of my flashcards, and I collapse onto the bed in laughter.
JANUARY, YEAR 2
The cold January evening should deter me from a short dress, but I’m impractical and want Julian to see my legs. It has long sleeves, and I’ll be indoors the whole night anyway. Who cares?
I book it upstairs and butterflies with barbed wings become trapped in my nerves, struggling to free themselves. This month, Julian is on nights at Vincent and I’m on days at TUMC, so we’ve barely seen each other since the new year started.
I was hoping for alone time, but Alesha insisted on Group Therapy, so I told Julian I’d come early. The door swings open seconds after my knock, and he gifts me the no-smile, the darkness of his eyes twinkling. Stars in the black of night.
Drawn toward him, my attention latches on and doesn’t let go. The door closes behind me, and he takes hold of my chin, lifting it up.
“Hi, there,” he says before brushing a light kiss over my lips, stirring my pulse.
“Hi.” Stupid breathy voice.
He takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. The accoutrements of Unicorn Blood litter his countertops.
“That’s a lot of limes,” I say.
He smiles. “We drink a lot.”
I chuckle as he grabs a lime, slicing it in half. Fingering the bottle of Patrón Silver, I tap my sparkly gold nails against the glass. “Have you ever thought of using a citrus vodka with it?”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “What?”
“I mean—”
“Experiment on your own time, Rose.” He grins.
My playful, feigned outrage has him laughing. I hop on the counter beside his workstation.
He spares a quick glance at my legs, and satisfaction ripples through me. “There’s no improving upon perfection,” he says.
I hide my smile while he returns to the cutting board. His strong long-fingered hand grasps the knife and slices through another lime. He drops one half in the squeezer and fills a measuring cup with the juice, then does the same with the other. The moves are practiced and quick. Efficient.
The man is so good with his hands. An immature teenager fanning herself inside my head tells me to slap him on the shoulder and giggle.
I’m such a terrible flirt. How on earth did I manage to snare him?
I clear a thick sensation from my throat. “Where’d you learn to make this?”
He slices another lime. “My ex. She was…difficult. But she made great drinks.”
I pick at the hem of my dress and lie to myself that I don’t care whether Julian has been with other women. “When did you break up?”
He sets the knife down and his dark eyes lift to meet mine. “Before I moved here. She wasn’t interested in long distance.”
My heart trips. “Were you interested in long distance? With her?”
“Nope.”
The jealous creature within rejoices.
I dig my fingernail into the skin of my knee over and over, forming crescents. “What time are they supposed to be here?”
Out of my peripheral vision, Julian shrugs. “Kai said around eight.”
The clock on his oven reads 7:23 p.m. Thirty-seven minutes alone. Why aren’t we making out?
He rinses his hands and leans against the stove as he dries them, considering me with a tilted head. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
He runs his teeth over his lower lip. “I know there’s been interest. Is there a reason you never dated anyone here before me?”
An uncomfortable thread of ice slithers through my veins. I’m not ready for this conversation. I’ll never be ready for it. Does he really need to know?
“Well, the rumors make it hard for me to trust anyone,” I say, hedging. “Like Trevor. I thought—”
He winces. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”
“But,” I add, “I haven’t been on a date since second year of medical school.”
He crosses his arms. “Why not?”
My attention drifts to the cabinets above his head. “That’s when my last boyfriend broke up with me.”
“What?” He lets out a small laugh. “Why on earth would he do that?”
The bewilderment on his face is disarming, and my insides cheer at the idea that Julian Santini can’t imagine breaking up with me. The truth falls from my mouth before I can stop it. “He said I was cold.”
His eyes narrow. “Cold?”
Agitation compels me to explain more than I need to, and words pour from my mouth. Terrible words. Despicable words. Words I can never take back. “I mean…he said I was like…distant. Um. Wait. That’s not—he just meant—like…unresponsive.” Oh god. Stop talking. “Like…because of how I get nervous. And sometimes… I worry about being good at—”
Julian’s expression hardens. He’s staring, frozen, jaw sharp.
I can’t stop filling the awkward silence. “I didn’t want to seem uninterested. I told him I wanted—like, guidance, or something. I was willing to learn. But I get nervous I’ll do something wrong and it was hard for me to—you know, like, get there , sometimes. Then he got…weird. Spiteful. Oh my god. Why am I still talking?”
It’s like fucking an ice queen.
I flinch. God, Julian’s never going to touch me now. I cover my face with my hands.
I can’t believe I just told Julian Santini that I’m bad in bed.
“Can you forget I said that?” I ask behind my hands.
“No.”
Of course not. He’s always been difficult that way, my Julian.
A painful silence passes before he draws an audible breath. “Is that why you—”
“It’s not a big deal. That was a long time ago. He—he doesn’t—like— matter , or anything. I don’t even care.” I peek out from behind my hands to find a new tension in the lines beside his mouth.
“Clearly you do.”
“That’s not—Julian—”
“You’re not cold.” His voice is deeper and a new intensity burns in his dark eyes.
My hands fall away. “What?”
He pushes off the stove. “You—” he points at my chest “—are not cold.”
“You don’t know—”
His laugh cuts me off. “I’ve had you in my arms, .”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It doesn’t?” A wicked smile dawns over his face. “Do you need me to prove it?”
Yes.
He moves until he’s standing before me. Those long fingers perch on the granite on either side of my hips. A pulse stirs in my lower abdomen.
“H-How would you prove it?” I ask.
His gifted hands land on my bare knees, a featherlight touch that forks lightning through my nervous system, sweet and drugging like spiked honey. “I can think of dozens of ways I’d like to, but I need you to say yes first.”
My breath vanishes. Just…disappears. And my heartbeat slams against the surface of my skin, nearly painful in the thinnest areas—my wrists and temples, my throat, between my legs.
His dark eyes grow feverish, unblinking, and his fingers connect directly to pleasure centers in my brain. Every light brush shivers down my legs. His skin caresses mine, right at the hem of my dress, back and forth.
I’m empty. Wanting. My body clenches on nothing.
Be brave, . Let him touch you.
His fingers skim around my closed knees, down the sides of my calves, and every hair on my body stands at attention. A tiny whimper escapes my throat.
His eyebrow perks. “Is that a yes?”
I give myself three seconds to reconsider, but ultimately surrender to his irresistible smile with a nod. His clever hands slide between my knees and press them wide open.
I let him do it.
I’m spread for him, and instead of awkwardness or anxiety, all I can find inside is a surging desire to open wider, show him more, make him ache like I do.
“Let’s start here.” He brushes his knuckles on the inside of my thighs, raising my dress. “Warm skin. Nothing cold there.” One hand leaves my leg to press a thumb against my lower lip. “You’re staring at me like you want this. That’s not cold, either.”
My lips part, teeth catching his thumb. His gaze drops to my mouth as the tip of my tongue touches his skin, tasting of lime.
His hand slides farther up my leg and I subdue the urge to scoot closer. “Do you want to hear all the things I’ve imagined this mouth doing? God, . Look at you.” His gaze sweeps down my body, lingering where my dress has ridden up to my hips, exposing my black lace thong. “Who the fuck would think you’re cold?”
My breath stutters as his fingers climb higher. Where is the embarrassment? The fear that always accompanies this? The worry that he won’t like the sounds I make, the way I look, the time it takes to warm me up?
It isn’t there, and the impression of Julian Santini’s fingers against my flesh burns through the cells in my body, rewriting their DNA. This is how it’s supposed to be. This is who you want.
“And here?” he says.
I can’t help the moan that gathers in my throat when his fingers brush over the lace. His thumb falls away from my mouth as I lean back without thought, my hands flat on the countertop behind me to give him better access.
“This is not cold.” His eyes have gone from fevered to inferno, and he’s leaning toward me, one hand bracing his weight, the other drawing teasing circles over the lace. “And any man who can’t figure out how to make you moan like that doesn’t deserve you. Your body knows how to do this. You just need the right touch.”
I stare deep into his eyes, mesmerized. Everything about him is like a drug designed specifically for me. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. A lick of trepidation slides along my spine at the power he has over me, at the look on his face that says he wants to turn me inside out in the best of ways. I won’t be the same after this, will I?
“Do you need me to prove that too, ?” he asks.
A wave of pleasure shivers through my spine. “Please.”
He slips aside the lace barrier between us at once and slides a finger against my skin.
I tremble at the contact, at the sparks that shower through my abdomen.
It’s never been like this, and my control falls to pieces around me. All hesitation disappears, and I reach for him with one hand, fingers yanking at his collar until his lips land on mine. He takes his time with the kiss, devouring me while his fingers dance across my nerves below.
Sighs echo through the kitchen with each of my breaths and my body finds a rhythm against his hand, riding it to find the highest sensation. His other hand slides up my waist until he reaches my breast. Even through my bra, pleasure echoes, spiraling down between my legs.
He teases me with the tip of his tongue, and I chase him, begging for a deeper kiss. I move faster. Harder. Grind against his hand.
“Fuck, Julian.” I lose my rhythm after several minutes, and the kiss breaks.
He gives a deep hum as he brushes kisses over my cheek. “Have I ever told you how much I love the way you say my name?”
I pant against him.
He chuckles, changing the tempo of his fingers until embarrassing noises spill from my mouth. “I really do, . You say it like you’re planning to lecture me.”
The pinnacle is close, but out of reach like usual. I’m desperate for it, whimpering.
“Look at who’s getting the lecture now.” His teeth nip at my neck. “Such a good little student.”
“ Julian .” I beg him and I don’t care, whispering pleas of Yes and Please and Faster .
It draws nigh, the release. Hovers. I’m staring over the edge, unable to fall.
His lips touch my ear. “It’s right there, beautiful. Just take it.”
He does something that has me biting his shoulder through his shirt to keep from screaming. It shoots down my legs into my toes and blossoms with hot dazzling waves through my entire body. My fingers creep around his neck and clench as I ride his hand. When it passes, he draws out a few more shock waves. I jerk against his fingers before he pulls them away.
My eyes blink open and I find him staring at me with a flushed face.
He grazes his lips against mine. “Not cold.”
He starts to move away, but I grab the fabric over his stomach, and slide my hands to the button of his jeans, undoing it before I change my mind.
“, you—”
After one wet lick to my palm, my hand slips around him, thick and hard, and his words dissolve into a curse. I’ve always felt like an idiot doing this, but when Julian’s eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip, a tiny bolt of pride zaps through me. His forehead falls to my shoulder.
I nudge his ear with my nose. “Show me what you like.”
His hand closes over mine, guiding. It gives me enough confidence to grip harder, eliciting a smothered groan from him. His hands climb my spread thighs while his breath fans over my throat. He breathes deeper, faster.
Mouth at my throat, the obscenities he mutters vibrate against my pulse. After a while, his fingers clamp on my thighs. “I want to be inside you.”
I’m breathless, desperate, reckless. “Okay.”
He freezes, then jerks his head to look me in the eye. “What?”
I nod, never losing my rhythm. “I want you.”
He blinks twice before an exhale bursts from him. “Thank god .”
He smothers me with kisses. Tongue tangled with mine, he slides me to the edge of the counter and I wrap my legs around him when a knock pounds at the door. We both startle mid-kiss, staring at each other, wide-eyed.
“Shit!” I whisper.
He backs away so I can slide off the counter. Shit! Shit! Shit! I wipe my hand over the countertop. Dry. But still, where is his kitchen cleaner? I turn to ask him about it. The two fingers he’d used to get me off are in his mouth, like he’s sneaking cookie dough straight from the bowl.
Heat flares like a sunburst through my whole body.
“Definitely not cold,” he murmurs before washing his hands.
The door opens. “Yo, Julian. You in here?” Kai asks.
“In here.” Julian’s voice is magically unaffected, but he shifts his refastened pants with a pained expression.
Meanwhile, my legs are Jell-O and my skin prickles with awareness. I almost had sex with Julian in his kitchen. I let him finger-bang me to the best climax I’ve ever experienced.
Vicious horny hag beams. If he can do that with two fingers, what could he do with his tongue? His dick?
It’s been almost four years since I’ve had a man inside me, and now all I want is to order Kai home and let Julian learn every inch of my body.
Kai sets a bottle of St. Germain in front of me and makes a scrunched face. “You look weird.”
“Hmm?” I shake myself. “Just tired.”
Julian halves another lime without looking at either of us. He pulls his breaths in a little deeper than before but is otherwise relaxed. Kai glances at me, eyebrow raised.
Get it together, .
The door opens again. Raven calls a greeting. “I brought the oranges.”
Julian reaches out as she rounds the corner to the kitchen. She hands him the plastic bag. His gaze finally meets mine and his knowing eyes sparkle as one corner of his mouth lifts. Butterflies tickle my insides.
“You want to peel these?” he asks.
I’m frozen, staring at his face. Kiss-swollen lips. Fever-bright eyes.
He jiggles the bag. “You gonna take it?”
Warmth blooms across my neck. It’s right there, beautiful. Just take it.
I clear my throat as Raven settles on a stool. Reaching for the bag, I abruptly remember where my hand has been when Julian stares at it. He clears his throat and sets the bag on the counter while I wash my hands.
Beside me, his practiced movements grow clumsy, but he says nothing.
Swollen stomach brushing the granite, Raven reaches for a lime wedge to suck on. “Alesha’s running late.”
I pull an orange from the bag and grab a sharp knife. “How are you feeling, Raven?”
“I’m all right.” She pokes her belly. “I’m running out of room in there.”
“I bought you some ginger ale,” Julian says. “It’s in the fridge.”
Beaming, she slides off the stool. “Thanks!”
Kai mixes the liquor. “Two to one to one, right, Santini?”
“Yeah.”
Pouring the shots into the shaker, Kai chuckles. “No wonder these always fuck us up.”
Drinks made, the four of us move into Julian’s living room. Raven settles into the lounge chair while Kai snags a seat on the floor. Julian and I take the sofa.
When Alesha knocks and lets herself in, Kai points at the kitchen. “We left yours in there.”
She does a little jig as she grabs her drink, then shoves me over to take a seat, forcing me closer to Julian. His hand brushes my bare leg as he scoots. Our eyes lock for a fraction of an instant, and I tear my gaze away, tingling from head to toe.
“Why were you late?” Kai asks.
Alesha shrugs, looking away. “Oh. Traffic. You know. The usual.”
We settle into our familiar camaraderie as the night passes, but nursing a single drink for the evening leaves me sober and strung out when the evening draws to a close. I can’t believe I almost screwed Julian in his kitchen. What was I thinking?
It’s like fucking an ice queen.
Julian’s voice whispers through my thoughts. Not cold.
Oh god. I still have no faith that I can please him with any competence. That was instinct, a culmination of heat and hormones. He liked it well enough if the look on his face was any indication, but what if I can’t do it again?
My phone buzzes, startling me out of my thoughts. The screen flashes a text from Julian.
Julian: Get out of your head, .
I glance at him, but he’s paying attention to the conversation around us. No, participating . Maybe what we’d done hadn’t blown his mind like it had mine.
Of course not. He didn’t come.
Ugh. I’m going to have to remedy that situation soon. What if I freeze? What if he hates it?
Julian: Seriously, . Chill out.
How am I supposed to chill out when my mind spins in a dozen directions, all ways I could screw this up?
Raven lets out a huge yawn and pats her stomach. “I’m ready for bed. I’ll see you all next week.”
Kai helps her out of the chair. She waves goodbye.
Alesha smiles at the closed door. “She’s such a cute preggo.”
“Two kids under five during residency.” Kai shudders. “No thanks.”
Everyone but me laughs.
“y?”
I startle and meet Kai’s gaze. It darts to Julian, then back to me.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet.”
“What?” I force a smile. “Of course. Just tired.”
None too convinced, Kai stands to fill both our glasses. My phone buzzes.
Julian: Do you need help relaxing?
Julian: I could go down on you right now.
Julian: Do you want to give our friends a show, ?
Julian: Is that what you want?
Fire tears through my system. He still doesn’t look at me. He’s arguing with Alesha about the best way to manipulate Dr. Scarlett into sneaking us into the attending lounge for free ice cream. My skin tingles with awareness. He’s mere inches away.
Kai sets my drink in front of me, and I reach forward to grab it. When I lean back, Julian’s closer than before. Close enough that my every movement brushes his body and my skin becomes an oversensitive magnet, aligned to him.
His texting goes ignored by the others. Julian is always text-ing someone, either his sisters or Maxwell or us. No one pays it any attention, but my screen comes to life once more.
Julian: Do you think I could make you scream?
Julian: Or do you always bite when you come?
Julian: I could probably get used to that.
Julian: If you let me.
Julian: Will you let me, ?
My body thinks we’re working out. It’s the only explanation for this sweat and galloping heart rate.
“’Lesha, you want to share an Uber?” Kai asks. “Mine’s here.”
“Huh? Oh sure.” Alesha stands.
I follow suit, ignoring the subtle brush of fingers down the back of my thigh. Julian tracks behind me like a predator.
“Night, Julian.” Kai gives him an overlong stare I don’t understand, but then drops his attention to me. “Have a good night, y.” He pecks me on the cheek.
Alesha grabs her purse and opens the door, looking at me. “You leaving, too?”
A light tug at the fabric over the small of my back keeps me from escaping.
“Oh, I need to grab my stuff from the kitchen. You go on.”
Alesha nods and wishes us good-night. Door closed, the tug on my dress grows more insistent. I take an obedient step backward, the scent of his skin enwreathing me.
Except for the two fingers pinching my dress, he doesn’t touch me, but his breath caresses my face as he whispers in my ear.
“Is the answer still yes?”
The words ice queen and not cold argue in the back of my mind, but as his nose slides along my ear, I give in to him.
I love this man. Even if I’m terrible, he won’t humiliate me for it.
I hope.
“Yes.”