Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
AARON
“Sutton,” I answer immediately. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
There’s a half-second of silence.
Then, “You are so lucky you answered.”
I flinch at her cheerful greeting and glance back at Juliette, half-naked and sitting in the middle of my kitchen island. My heart is pounding damn near out of my fucking chest—for entirely different reasons—the adrenaline of her phone call not yet caught up to the hard dick in my boxers.
“I’m sorry, I thought I heard you wrong. You don’t sound panicked.”
Sutton laughs, zero guilt. “Why do you sound mad? You’re breathing so heavy.”
Why am I breathing heavy? Why is she fucking asking about this shit when there’s an emergency?
“Why do you sound normal?” My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. “Is Dad okay?”
She pauses. “Yeah, he’s fine. Why?”
My shoulders relax a fraction. “Is Mom okay?”
“Yeah. She and I were on the phone.”
I hesitate, breath coming in bursts as if I’ve just done laps around the ice rink. “Did something happen?”
“No, nothing happened. Why are you being weird?”
For the love of God, she knows I have a goddamn date—so why is she calling if neither of my parents are in a crisis and nothing horrible has occurred?
“Sutton.” She better say something quick so I can unclench my ass cheeks.
She sighs dramatically. “Oh my god, Aaron. Relax.”
Yeah, not that.
“I’m not relaxing until you tell me why you called me four times!”
Giggle, giggle. “It was three.”
I’m literally going to kill her.
“Close enough.”
Juliette is still perched on the counter, watching with wide, horrified eyes, clutching her shirt to her bare chest as if my sister is going to burst through my door and catch us being naughty.
Sutton’s voice lowers to a whisper. “Are you still on your date?”
“Yes.” I grind my jaw so hard I can feel it in my temples.
“Oh! You are?” she squeals. “Yay! I want to FaceTime.”
“For what?”
“To meet her.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Is she out of her goddamn mind?
My pulse is still jacked for reasons that have nothing to do with family bonding. Juliette is ten feet away, tits out, flushed from head to toe, watching me try not to commit fratricide over speakerphone.
“Jeez,” Sutton says. “You sound so pissed off.”
Because I am pissed off.
I rake a hand through my hair and count to five.
One. Two.
Three.
Four, five. This is my sister. I love her.
I would also like to strangle her for calling me at the worst possible moment of my life. I was minutes away from sinking into Juliette’s hot, wet pussy.
“You panic-dialed me into cardiac arrest because you wanted to FaceTime, and you have the freaking nerve to act like I’m the asshole here?”
Sutton scoffs. “You didn’t answer the first two calls.”
“Because I was—” I glance at Juliette. “Busy doing other things.”
Sutton gasps. “Were you making out?”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes, taping my fingers against the cold, granite countertop. “We’ll go with that.” I close my eyes. “I’m hanging up.”
“You never let me meet anyone! You gatekeep your entire life, and Bailey didn’t count because she was awful.”
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Incoming FaceTime: Sutton
She’s officially lost her mind if she thinks I’m going to accept the video call.
From her spot on the counter, Juliette makes a strangled noise. “Is she FaceTiming you?”
“Yes.”
“Decline it!” she hisses.
“I am.”
I hit decline.
The phone buzzes again, instantly.
“She is not giving up,” Juliette whispers, mortified—as if I’m dumb enough to actually take the call.
“I noticed.”
I decline it again.
“You are hiding something,” my sister screeches through the phone, still on the other line. “You never decline my FaceTimes unless you’re naked or in the shower or sleeping.”
“One of those is correct.”
“Oh my god, Aaron—do not tell me you are naked. You’ve been on your date for what, an hour?” My sister screams for all the world to hear. “It’s barely seven, how are you screwing around?”
“Since when is that any of your business?”
“I can’t believe you,” Sutton continues. “This is so embarrassing for me. Put on pants.”
“I’m wearing pants.” But it just so happens that they’ll be coming off very shortly…
“Are they at least buttoned?”
“Nope.”
Juliette waves her hand to get my attention. “Can you please tell her I’m fully dressed? Please?” Juliette begs in a whisper hiss.
“Juliette wants me to tell you she’s dressed,” I say flatly, lying on Juliette’s behalf. Her skin is still bright red, the shirt in her hands still clutched to her bosom.
Poor thing.
This must be traumatic for her…
It takes me a full two seconds to realize I’ve said her name out loud to my sister and Sutton does not miss the detail.
“Ohhh, her name is Juliette. So romantic—like Romeo and Juliet,” my sister chirps brightly. “So, you’re half-naked and she’s fully clothed? How predictable of you.”
“You are not mature enough for this,” I tell my sister with authority. “People get naked. People have sex—how do you think you ended up with Molly and Nicolas?”
Juliette swats at me. “Don’t tell her we were about to have sex!”
“Trust me,” I tell her. “This is the most excitement my sister has had in weeks, her husband travels a lot for work.”
Sutton gasps. “How dare you imply that we rarely bang. We bang plenty!”
“I regret answering this call,” I mutter.
“You should—and I’m never eating in your kitchen again.”
“Good. More for me!” I tell her, ending the call on an innuendo.
“There,” I mutter, tossing my phone back onto the counter. Let her wonder if I meant food or pussy.
It would serve her right.
“You are feral,” Juliette says, staring at me wide-eyed.
I shrug. “She started it.”
“She screamed ‘We bang plenty’ into the phone.”
“She did.”
Juliette shakes her head, but she’s smiling now. Flushed, breathless, beautiful.
I want to pick up where we left off: get her naked, get her wet, bend her over, and fuck her from behind…
In that order.
Stepping back between her parted legs, I slide my hands over her thighs. Nuzzle her neck below her ear.
“Where were we?” I murmur.
She swallows. “Your sister was yelling about banging.”
“Before that.”
Her eyes flicker down to the belt buckle dangling limply at my open fly.
“Come on, babe, let me go down on you,” I croon. “Get you wet. Suck on you.”
My mouth brushes over hers, softly. Slowly. No rush. Reminding her how good I can make her feel, how there’s no need to be self-conscious by my dumb sister’s interruption.
I glide my hand up her stomach and palm her breast, cupping it. Gently rubbing her nipple back into a hard nub.
“You know what sounds good right now?” I ask into her neck. “A shower.”
“It’s a yes or no question?”
“Neither.” I grin at her. “I think we’re both keyed up right now and could stand to relax. Let’s get naked, rinse off, then snuggle on the couch.”
Juliette hesitates, biting her lip. Unsure. “We haven’t even finished dinner.”
I glance at the counter: at the plates, cups, and wine glasses. Pot of pasta, pan of sauce. Then I glance down the hall toward my bedroom.
“Babe, I have a very nice shower.” And I would like to fuck you in it…
Standing up.
Water wetting your tits.
Slamming into you from behind.
“I know you do, but…” She studies me for a second. Tucks her lip between her teeth. “I have a confession. I’ve never taken a shower with a man before.” She shrugs bashfully. “I always imagine someone falling and cracking their skull open on a slippery tile.”
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her pouty bottom lip. “I like the idea of being close to you. No phone. No TV. No distractions. Just water and heat.”
Her eyes search mine, still uncertain but curious, like she’s calculating the risk against the thrill of it.
She exhales a small nervous laugh. “Okay. But if I slip, I’m blaming you.”
Fair enough.
I lift her from the counter with my hands around her waist and set her on her feet, leading her to the bedroom by the hand. Juliette covers her tits with her forearm, too shy to walk uninhibited down the hallway.
The stark contrast between her and the women I’ve dated before hits me hard.
They would’ve strutted bare-ass naked.
Tits and pussies out.
Had me race them to the shower, showing off, teased me mercilessly before letting me put my hands on their bodies.
But there’s nothing performative about Juliette Kennedy.
She is seductive and sexy in an entirely different way. Quiet, unguarded, unsure of the power she yields. And somehow that makes it ten times stronger…
I take her hand, guide her to the bathroom.
The space opens up like something out of an architectural digest magazine spread—floor-to-ceiling slabs of honed limestone, pale and seamless, veined in gray.
The shower itself is framed in thick glass panels.
The entire enclosure feels like a floating room, all of which has been washed spotless by the cleaning crew.
Matte gold fixtures punctuate the stone.
There’s a giant rainfall showerhead mounted high above, wide enough to drench two people at once. A second, adjustable head sits seven feet high on the wall, with a row of body sprays lining the tile below it.
Built-in stone bench. Cubby with my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Loofahs and razors.
It’s not a shower.
It’s an experience.
I start the water so it can warm, steam already curling toward the ceiling, then grab a stack of bright white towels and set them neatly on the teak bench beside the door.
Juliette has lowered her arms, baring her breasts, hands tentatively drifting to her jeans.
I don’t breathe.
She pushes them down. Steps out of them carefully. Hooks her fingers into the slender waistband of her tiny thong.
I watch spellbound as she pushes them over her hips.
Cannot peel my eyes off the blonde patch between her thighs.
“Oh,” I mutter. “Right. Me too.”
I kick my own pants off so fast I almost lose my balance, unable to keep up, frantically fumbling like a fucking loser to rid myself of clothes and get naked.
“Are you alright?” she asks sweetly.
“Totally fine,” I say, aggressively not fine, yanking my shirt over my head and tossing it to the tile floor. “Very enthusiastic.” As if my words weren’t evidence enough, my rock-hard erection should be.
We both pretend to ignore it as we step into the shower, beneath the spray, steam rising to envelope us.
It feels so fucking good…
The water hits my shoulders first, hot and steady, then splashes against her as she steps closer. She hums happily at the warmth, instinctively pressing into me, her palms flattening against my chest.
“See?” I murmur, sliding my hands around her waist. “No concussions yet.”
Juliette tilts her face up into the rainfall head.
Water streams down her hair, along her cheeks, over her shoulders. For a second, she stands there, eyes closed, smiling like this is the simplest pleasure in the world.
And for the time we’re in here, it will be.
I pull her gently under the spray with me, tucking her against my chest. The stone beneath our feet is warm, the steam thick enough to blur the edges of everything outside this glass box.
She rests her chin between my pecs. “This is kind of perfect.”
“Kind of?” I tease, hands roaming lazily over her back.
“Yes, kind of,” Juliette teases back. “You know, you’re not at all what I was expecting—the more I get to know you, the more I like you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good thing,” she says quickly. “I thought you’d be more of a… I don’t know. More of a jackass.”
I laugh. “A player?” Like your brother? Who can’t keep his dick to himself?
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You’re the one who said you thought I was going to be more of a jackass,” I remind her, smiling as the water runs over my hands. “But yeah. I get that a lot. People think they know me before they actually do.”
She studies my face, tipping it upward. “I like being wrong sometimes.”
I reach around her, grasping for a bottle of body wash on the recessed shelf, flip it open and squeeze a generous amount into my palm.
“You’re about to like this even more.”
She watches intently as I work the soap between my hands, building a thick lather before sliding them onto her shoulders. I spread the foam over her skin, thumbs kneading gently at the tension gathered there.
Her head tips back slightly.
“Mm,” she hums. “That feels so good.”
I lean down, kissing the nape of her neck, adding to her pleasure.
“Full service.”
I smooth my hands down her arms, over her sides, along the curve of her waist. Over her stomach. Up her sternum.
Exploring.
“You don’t seem like someone who lets people see this side of you,” she says quietly into the steam.
“What side?”
“The gentle side.”
Yeah well, that’s what happens when you’re fucked over by teammates and women—not that I’m dwelling on it.
My hands slide around to her front, lathering over her bellybutton. Juliette inhales softly when my palms glide to her tits, her nipples covered in soapy bubbles that I want to lick off like cream.
“Want to know something?” I ask. “I like that you’re shy.”
She tilts her head. “I’m not shy.”
Oh, but she is.
Adorably, beautifully so.
“I’m not shy. I’m cautious.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But you’re also brave.”
Her hands rest against my chest, fingertips tracing lazy lines through the water. “You think I’m brave?”
“I think,” I say slowly, choosing my words, “that you don’t do things halfway. If you’re here, it’s because you trust me.”
Trust.
Her expression softens in a way that hits me square in the ribs and, for a hot second, guilt assuages me for taking advantage of the moment to gauge her trust in me.
Without trust, she won’t fall in love with me.
If she doesn’t fall in love with me, I can’t crush her brother.
That’s the plan, isn’t it?
Except…
The longer she looks at me with those pretty eyes and fluttering wet lashes, with those freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose…
I swallow, a lump forming in my throat that shouldn’t be there.