21. Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Henry
T he next morning, I awoke in confusion, tangled up in Juliet’s sweet limbs. I squinted against the bright morning light as memories rushed back in a flood of sensation and satisfaction.
One of my hands rested possessively along the curve of her ass, the other atop her arm, which was flung across my chest. Her left leg draped over one of mine like a soft, seductive anchor. When she shifted, her thigh brushed across my groin, drawing a strangled groan from my throat.
“Again? You are a demanding wench,” I grumbled playfully against the top of her head.
She laughed, her voice still husky with sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I don’t even know what time it is. Do you need to be at work? I don’t think I can move, so if you need to call in sick, just tell them you have a parasitic infestation or something.”
I laughed and rolled toward her, sliding my hand along her leg to draw her knee up over my hip as I said, “No, today is my day off. Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning.”
At the shy, slightly hazy look in her eyes, I grinned. Tousled, gorgeous, and utterly kissable—waking up beside her was something I could get used to very quickly. I trailed my lips along her hairline and she burrowed closer just as a loud bark sounded from the other side of the door.
“I’m never bringing her here again,” I muttered, then gave Juliet’s ass a gentle squeeze, followed by a more lingering caress. “Don’t you dare move.”
She threw her arms wide once she had the bed to herself, mumbling, “Yes, sir.”
I paused to pull on jeans and stifled another groan when I glanced back at her sleepy sprawl. Morning sunlight danced across her skin through the lacy curtains. My gaze roamed hungrily over her, though I grimaced at the faint shadow of bruising on her knee. The rest of her scratches and scrapes had healed well, even the deeper cut on her forehead.
Despite the line of conversation she’d broached the night before, there had been nothing awkward about our coming together. I soaked in the sight of her for another moment, then forced myself to leave the room so I could take the dog outside.
Blue didn’t look nearly as reproachful as I’d expected, simply happy to see me. I let her out into the yard and squinted into the brightness of the morning. Leaving the dog outside unsupervised was a surefire way to invite another interruption far sooner than I wanted, usually in the form of her barking her head off after chasing a squirrel up a tree, so I waited in the doorway while she relieved herself.
The lake glittered almost painfully bright in the morning sun, but as I turned to follow Blue back into the cottage, a flash of movement near the edge of the forest caught my eye.
Before I could blink, it was gone, but I was sure it had been there.
“What the hell?” I muttered, cupping a hand over my eyes.
Whatever the source of movement had been, I saw nothing unusual as I studied the stretch of yard between the cottage and the treeline. I chalked it up to some animal heading back into the trees, but I cocked my head when I looked down at the dog, who loved nothing more than bolting after a deer in the woods.
Then again, this wasn’t her usual stomping grounds; maybe she’d been too distracted by new yard smells to notice the creature.
Though Juliet had been a phenomenal distraction these past days, I was unsettled by the increasing probability that it had been an actual gunshot she heard that day in the forest. Whether it was a clueless hunter or something more sinister, it was a danger that didn’t belong in Spruce Hill, certainly one I didn’t want anywhere near Juliet.
With nothing more to go on, though, I pushed down my concern, determined to enjoy my day with her to the fullest.
I closed the door behind us and threw the bolt before returning to the bedroom. Juliet was much as I'd left her, except with one arm now thrown across her eyes. She lifted it to peek at me when I stopped at the foot of the bed, gazing down at her with raw appreciation.
“Remind me to get some blackout curtains soon,” she grumbled as I tossed my jeans aside and crawled toward her.
I paused at her knee, laying a lingering kiss against the pale purple bruise. The sharp intake of breath that passed her rosy lips inspired me to continue a trail of feather-light kisses up the impossibly soft skin of her thigh. With my shoulders, I nudged her legs wider and settled myself between them.
“Henry,” she gasped when I reached the soft copper curls that had captivated me for the better part of the night.
I rubbed my cheek against the inside of her thigh, the faint shadow of stubble along my jaw teasing the sensitive area. Her legs shifted restlessly on either side of my body.
“Yes, Juliet?” I replied, then swirled my tongue over her skin, dewy and pink under a beam of daylight from the window.
When her only reply was a soft moan, accompanied by the faint quiver of her limbs that had become familiar to me already, I grinned and focused on my task. Though we’d made love twice more during the night, I hadn’t had the chance to taste her, and I savored the experience.
Everything about her—the little whimpers, each helpless roll of her hips, her wetness against my tongue—tempted me to linger here for the rest of my days. It didn’t take long before she came apart with my name on her lips, her body trembling under my hands and mouth.
I found her swift and intense release incredibly gratifying.
When I crawled back up to the pillows and gathered her boneless form into my arms, she sighed contentedly, nuzzling her face against my neck as she murmured, “You’re too good at this.”
“We’re good together.”
“Very, very good.”
I hummed in agreement, my fingers stroking lightly over her hair, soothing her as her pulse slowly returned to normal. After a moment, I drew back just far enough to see a tiny crease between her brows.
“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. What are you thinking about?”
“Just this.” She waved a hand over us.
“What? Incredible, heart-stopping sex?” I asked, running my palm over her hip to cup her ass. Every inch of her anatomy delighted me, but this exquisite curve practically inspired me to write poetry in its honor. “The way I fit so perfectly inside of you? That little sound you make when my fingers—”
She laid a hand over my mouth and I chuckled against it. Now I was thinking about all of those things, but she looked so serious that I dipped my head to kiss her one more time before she replied.
“This, us, everything,” she said vaguely.
I got the picture as I noted the deep blush spreading across her cheeks. Juliet was gloriously expressive, physically and emotionally, but it wasn’t until her revelation about the ex-boyfriend’s proposal that I realized she was also wary. I slid my hand to her back, rubbing soothing circles across her shoulder blades until she sighed and dropped her head to my chest, burying her face against my throat.
Though it was clear she was still sorting through what had happened between us, I could think of little aside from how stunning she looked when she'd been thoroughly and repeatedly satisfied. Despite a week of kissing, cuddling, and talking late into the evening on her couch, it took a night of passion to reveal just how affectionate she really was.
It was a beautiful discovery.
“Definitely worth thinking about,” I murmured against her hand. I felt her lips curve against my neck and my arms tightened reflexively around her. “We have the whole day together, if you don’t mind me hanging around. What should we do with it?”
Juliet gasped. “Oh, the box. I totally forgot.”
“You were a tad distracted.”
“Maybe a little.”
“I’m happy to make us some breakfast, but we can save time by showering together.” I waggled my eyebrows and she laughed.
Rising up on one elbow, Juliet leaned over and kissed me, flashing a challenging grin when she drew back.
“Last one to the bathroom has to do the soaping,” she said, then she bounded off the bed before I could react.
A broad smile spread across my face as I rolled out of bed to follow her. This was one race I didn’t mind losing.