CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
S TEFANIE
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B EFORE I COULD TELL Julian how I felt about him, I needed to talk to his mother. There was no point in starting something that would be derailed the moment she learned he and I were together.
I pushed that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on it at the moment. Julian returned to the table with coffee in the mug he’d gotten me, my new favorite mug. I couldn’t help but tell him that.
“That’s my favorite mug now, you know?” I admitted.
His smile was so damn adorable.
“Is it?” He set the mug in front of me. “I thought you’d like it.”
I watched him move to the refrigerator and return with a bottle of salted caramel creamer.
“Tell me when to stop,” he said, and began pouring it into my coffee.
“Stop,” I said after a few seconds.
“Be right back with the spoon.”
“You know I can help out, right?”
“I don’t need help,” he called out as he grabbed a spoon from the correct drawer and rinsed it off. He handed it to me, and I used it to stir my coffee before giving it back to him.
“Thank you, Julian.”
“You welcome,” he said before rinsing the spoon off and putting it in the drying rack.
This had to be a dream. I mean, no man was this perfect. Good sex, good manners, and good conversation. I should pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Ouch! I wasn’t dreaming.
I watched as he prepared his plate and coffee, then came to sit next to me at the table. He started eating, and I knew I should be eating also, but I couldn’t help but watch him. I wanted to bring up the luggage in my bedroom, and the way he was just settling into my home.
I decided to eat first and talk later. The chicken was cooked perfectly, and the waffles were nice and fluffy. The food was great. I took another bite of the perfectly crispy chicken, savoring the blend of spices that danced on my tongue.
Julian's cooking was as impressive as his other talents, and I found myself smiling at the thought. He glanced up from his plate, a thoughtful expression on his face. I braced myself for what he was about to say.
"Are you serious about being a writer?"
I paused, setting my fork down gently. The question caught me off guard, and a flush crept up my cheeks.
"Yeah," I admitted, feeling self-conscious about discussing this with anyone, especially him. "It's been a dream of mine for a long time. Since I’ve left my job, I want to give it a real shot."
Like my husband, would he think it was foolish of me to want to be a writer? Did he think I was too old to be starting over?
He nodded. "I did some research this morning on authors and writing careers. Some authors mentioned it's a stressful job."
"I guess it will be a bit stressful. But so was being a meteorologist. All jobs have their pros and cons. However, writing is something I feel passionate about. Stressful or not, I plan to give it a shot. I plan to write the first draft this summer, then spend the fall rewriting and making it better. But this summer, I want to at least get the story out of my head."
“That sounds like a solid plan. So, what happened last night? Hit a roadblock in writing and needed a research buddy, huh?" he asked.
I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my face again. "Yeah, something like that."
Or maybe I just wanted to see you and was willing to use any excuse necessary. Even I wasn’t quite sure yet.
He leaned in slightly, his voice teasing. "Was I helpful? Did I clear out all your roadblocks?"
I met his gaze, memories of the night before flooding back. "You were very helpful, Mr. Cattaneo," I said, my gaze dropping to his lips.
He grinned and licked his lips. I crossed my legs to keep my pussy from pouncing onto his plate and screaming, eat me next .
"What if I wanted to continue being your research buddy?" he asked, leaning back in his seat, the muscles in his stomach flexing as he moved.
My gaze narrowed, his words surprising me. But he looked serious.
“Seriously?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Is that why there are suitcases in my bedroom?” I questioned.
He nodded again.
“So, you already planned on me saying yes, huh?”
He shook his head. “If you said no, I’d still bring my suitcases.”
“Why?”
“Because I plan to be here for a few days.”
“You do, huh?”
“I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy. Since you let me in, that must mean you want me around, at least for a little while.”
Red flag. Yet, I was smiling. I did want him around. I was just too nervous to ask him to stay.
"If you want, I can be your research buddy. Just for the summer," he added. "Just so you can get the story out of your head. I'll be the inspiration for the hero in your romance novel. I'll be at your service. When you need me, I'll be here for you."
The idea of having Julian by my side, supporting me as I pursued my dream, and feeding me dick whenever I had writer’s block, sounded amazing.
“I just have one condition,” he told me.
Uh-oh. I should’ve known this was too good to be true.
“What is it?” I asked.
“If you agree to let me be your research buddy, you have to also agree to let me be in complete control of what we do when we’re behind closed doors.”
“What?” I frowned. “Aren’t you already in control when we’re fucking?”
Oops , did I really just say that?
“I said when we’re behind closed doors. My place or yours, wherever we are, when we’re alone, you’re mine. And I get to be in control.”
Control . He wanted me to hand over control to him. I swallowed and stared down at my plate, reminding myself that he was not Archie. That this was not the same type of situation. I had to remind myself that even on his best day, Archie hadn’t compared to Julian.
Even during our good days, which were the days before we got married, Archie still hadn’t treated me with the same kindness Julian did or stared at me the way Julian did. Archie tossed around the word love like it was pocket change, but his actions never matched his words.
Though I believed Julian truly had feelings for me, because of Archie, the thought of releasing control again was scary as hell. I had a firm grip on every aspect of my life. Letting it go, even for a little while, was beyond daunting.
It had me wanting to tell him to leave, that I couldn’t do this, that I was wrong for calling him over in the first place. I blinked when I felt his hand against mine. My gaze rose to his just as he placed his other hand on my face, his thumb swiping across my cheek.
It was only then that I realized I was crying. Silent tears. The kind of tears I’d gotten used to shedding because I’d never wanted Archie to hear me crying and risk angering him.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, leaning away from him to wipe my face and pull myself together.
“What did I say that made you cry?” he asked, voice low, concerned.
I released an embarrassed chuckle, hating that he was seeing me this way.
“It wasn’t anything you said. I just...”
“Stefanie,” he whispered.
My gaze rose to his.
“What did I say that made you cry? I’ll never know if you don’t tell me. And I need to know.”
I held his gaze, wanting to look away but forcing myself not to. India’s voice drifted through my head, telling me that she wanted me to be happy, telling me that she wanted me to live my life.
I even heard Ronnie’s voice, telling me that it was time for me to let go of the past, something he told me all the time. And then there was Archie’s voice, telling me that I was a sorry excuse for a woman who couldn’t do the most basic thing that a woman should be able to do.
It was Archie’s voice that spoke the loudest, drowning out all the others. I lowered my gaze to the table, more tears streaming down my cheeks. I was so damn embarrassed. My shoulders shook as I tried to hold back my sobs.
I heard Julian’s chair scrape across the floor, but I couldn’t bring myself to look his way. This morning had started off well. How had I gone from flirting to crying? Ugh! What was wrong with me?
I tensed when I felt a hand on my knee. I looked down, and Julian was kneeling in front of me, Kleenex in hand. I accepted it and blew my nose. Ugh! This had to be the most unattractive thing he’d seen in his life.
Pull it together, Stefanie. All the man did was ask if he could be your fuck buddy for the entire summer. You should be happy. Why are you bawling? He rubbed circles on my back as I pulled myself together.
I accepted a second Kleenex from him to wipe my nose. I really wish I had a mirror to check my appearance.
“Feel better?” he asked, once the tears had subsided.
“No,” I mumbled. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“You saw me cry.”
“Crying is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Still, it’s embarrassing. The morning was going so well,” I told him.
“It’s still going well.”
I chanced a glance his way. “Liar,” I whispered.
“I have no reason to lie to the woman I love,” he replied.
More tears filled my eyes. Ugh!
“Should I just be quiet, because I think I’m making it worse?” he told me, starting to sound panicked.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” I whispered.
“Five words no man wants to hear,” he countered, making me chuckle.
“I’m serious, Julian.” I swallowed before meeting his gaze again. “I...”
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I didn’t even know what to say right now.
“Let’s start with, what did I say to make you go silent?” he told me.
I sighed. “It was the control part.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “You don’t like the idea of me being in control of what we do behind closed doors over the summer, huh?”
“That’s not it.” When he said it like that, it made me feel like I was overreacting. Was I overreacting? “Am I overreacting?” I asked.
“Of course, not. Your reaction is valid because it’s natural. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t planned. It was your natural reaction. And if me being in control is an issue, then...”
“It’s not an issue. I think it’s the word. Control . I don’t like that word. I don’t like giving up control.”
“Which means it’s an issue, right?” he asked.
I turned in my seat to face him, trying to find the words to explain how I was feeling.
“I love the idea of you being with me this summer as my research buddy,” I told him. A summer together would give me time to work on those skeletons in my closet. “But, it’s the thought of you being in control of me during that time that bothers me.”
“What does me being in control look like to you?” he asked, staring up at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do you picture when you picture me being in control?”
My mind immediately went to Archie and his demands and his degrading words. I wasn’t that same woman. I know I would never accept that kind of treatment again. Even so, that was where my mind went.
I licked my lips before saying, “Julian, my husband...”
“You don’t have a husband, Stefanie. Not yet,” he told me.
“Huh?”
“You said your husband.”
Oh, right. “My, um, India’s father. He wasn’t...” How do I say this? “He wasn’t good to me. He was abusive.”
I swallowed, not believing I was telling him this. But now that I’d started, I needed to get it out. Julian didn’t speak. He just listened and held my hand, letting his thumb glide over my knuckles in slow passes, his touch so careful, so tender, it felt like he was trying his best not to break me.
“Her father was controlling,” I continued. “And since him, I haven’t had a serious relationship at all. My focus has been on me and my daughter. And I must admit that I’ve micromanaged our lives all these years to keep myself from ever feeling like I wasn’t the one in control. So, the thought of giving up control, it... scares me.”
There, I admitted it. I admitted a lot. I met his gaze head-on, forcing myself not to look away or start crying again. I wasn’t weak. Not anymore. And Julian wasn’t Archie.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. If the fucker wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him with my bare hands,” Julian told me, expression serious, tone deadly.
And instead of scaring me, it made me want to kiss him.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he told me, voice gentler now, the deadly edge fading into something tender and protective. His thumb brushed another tear off my cheek. “Can I tell you what me being in control would look like over the summer?” he asked, his tone low and patient.
I nodded slowly, the knot in my chest loosening a fraction.
“It means helping you with your research,” he said, his voice dipping into something deeper, hotter. “And if that research involves fucking you in every single room in this house to get your sex scenes just right...” His thumb brushed lightly over the inside of my knee, sending a slow, wicked shiver up my spine. “Then that's exactly what I'm going to do.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. I stared down at my lap. But he placed his finger under my chin, bringing my gaze back to his, refusing to let me look away.
“I plan to eat your pussy from the front, the back, and the side, until you can describe it in detail, noting every swipe, flick and suck of my tongue and mouth. I plan to fuck your mouth until your throat is raw so you can perfectly describe what it feels like having my cock against your tongue and my cum down your throat.”
Gush! I swallowed, wishing I had his cock in my mouth right now.
“And that pussy,” he started, gaze dropping to my lap, prompting me to clench my thighs as my pussy quivered. “By the end of the summer, she’s going to be addicted to my cock, my tongue, and my fingers.”
She was already addicted to all three. All I had to do was think of this man, and she started to gush.
“Me being in control doesn’t only mean me fucking you every chance I get. It also means cooking for you to make sure you eat , ” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “And making sure you stay hydrated while you’re locked away in your head with those characters you’re creating. You’ll probably forget, and that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you. I’ll be here to make sure you don’t neglect yourself while you focus on your dream.”
My heart squeezed painfully at the casual way he said it, like taking care of me was as natural as breathing.
“It means movie nights,” Julian added, a teasing light sparking in his eyes. “Even if you whine about needing to get back to your laptop. It means making you take breaks. Making sure you laugh. Making sure you don’t lose yourself completely inside that book. It also means making sure you focus on writing and don’t get discouraged. I’ll be taking the reins so that you can relax. Not because I want to own you or control you. I just want you to worry less and be as stress-free as possible.”
I let out a shaky breath, already feeling lighter at the thought of it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp.
“And it means bathing you after a long day of writing,” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. “Washing your body, massaging out the tension, kissing every inch of you just because I want you to know that you’re just as loved and cherished as the heroine you plan to write about.”
I blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the picture he was painting. A summer not just of passion, but of care . Of love .
“And I’m not gonna crowd you, Stefanie,” he said. “I have to work. I’ll be gone most mornings. I’m not gonna be in your face all day, every day. You’ll have your space. And when your daughter is around, I’ll leave if you want me to. No complaints.”
He squeezed my hands gently.
“But if you need me...” His voice softened. “All you’ll have to do is call. No matter where I am, I'll come to you, wherever you are.”
Tears threatened again, but this time they weren’t because of grief or fear. They were because this man made me feel like I could actually have the kind of love I’d always dreamed of. A love that didn’t only take and break. But a love that gave and brought hope to both people who were in love.
“And every night,” Julian continued, his smile turning so tender it nearly broke me. “I want to come home to you. I want to be beside you. I want to wrap you in my arms and listen while you tell me what your characters did that day.”
I laughed, a watery, disbelieving sound, because his words sounded too perfect. Too right. Too much like a dream I'd convinced myself wasn’t possible. Looking into Julian's eyes, I realized it was possible.
No, it hadn’t been possible with Archie. And no, it wouldn’t be possible with Hudson or any of the men from my past. But with the right man, with the man kneeling in front of me, it could be possible.
I smiled through the tears that slipped free anyway. His version of control wasn’t terrifying at all. It was exactly what I needed. Because it wasn’t truly control. To me, it sounded more like being cherished thoroughly.
“Is that something you’d be interested in?” he asked.
I didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I want that, Julian.”
Relief flashed across his face. “Good,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Because now, I just need you to do one thing for me before it’s official.”
“What’s that?”
“Check your email, baby. I sent you a contract this morning while you were still sleeping.”
My brows furrowed as I reached for my phone, already feeling a nervous flutter deep in my belly.
“A contract?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not panicked.
“A Summer Research Partner Contract,” Julian corrected smoothly. “I want to take your word for it that you’ll let me do all those things for you. But you have a habit of overthinking things. That’s why I need it in writing. For the entire summer while you work on your book, you’ll leave everything else to me. I’ll make sure you’re fucked, fed, hydrated and loved the entire summer. And me failing to do my job is the only reason you can break the contract, nothing else.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you serious? Do we really need a contract for this?”
He nodded, looking serious as hell. “I need it in writing. And once you sign, you’re mine, Stefanie Adams.”
“For the summer,” I added.
Julian smirked. “Sign it, love.”
I noted that he didn’t clarify for the summer. But I was okay with that. I opened the email and read over the contract he’d sent me. This man! He was dead serious. It was funny as hell how he’d actually put all of that in writing.
I started to esign the contract. He grabbed my hand, stopping me.
“If you sign it, you’re mine,” he told me.
I’m already yours.
“Let go so I can sign it. And when I’m done, I’ll sign your cock with my tongue so you can know I’m serious too,” I told him, feeling flirtatious now that the fear had faded.
His eyes widened, and his nose flared. He released me. And as I signed the contract with my finger over the phone screen, Julian stood up and began freeing his cock from his shorts. That thang was already hard and ready. Good .
Because I was feeling a little thirsty!