Chapter 16 #2
It was good to get it off his chest. It wasn’t as though he’d been harboring the pain.
On the contrary, he’d sought help when he needed it.
But now another feeling was sinking into the room around them, the ever-present weight of the unknown.
Heavy and suffocating, it filled the space between them, crowding them.
But then Juliette shifted, and the cushion slanted her closer to him.
Her shoulder and legs were snug next to him, and the heat radiating from her was excruciating.
If she noticed their nearness, she didn’t care.
She swirled her tea absently, then took another sip.
“I don’t think I loved him. Not really.”
Juliette stared off into space, a place where he wasn’t invited. He sat beside her, quietly aware they were treading into dangerous territory. Venturing down the road of the past could lead to a mix of messy emotions.
“I wanted to love him.” She sighed but it was half-hearted. Resigned. “I wanted to marry him. I told myself every day how perfect we were together.”
His skin caught fire with rage while listening to her talk about another man, and jealousy swept through him.
It didn’t matter if they were no longer together, just knowing she’d been making forever plans with someone else was enough to make him feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest—still pumping, still bleeding.
Juliette shrugged and set her glass of tea on the coffee table. “But nothing was ever easy, you know?”
Brock grabbed another olive. “Nothing ever is.”
He felt her gaze on him, lingering, but couldn’t bring himself to look her way. He knew what would be reflected in those eyes of hers. A thousand questions he couldn’t bring himself to answer. At least not yet.
“Some things are, though. Easy, that is.” Sadness crept into her tone, sinking and harsh, so he stole a hasty glance at her.
The firelight reflected in her eyes, flecks of silver against sparks of pale blue.
“Nothing about us ever felt easy. Rodrigo and I didn’t fight, but we never agreed on anything.
I couldn’t find a job I enjoyed because I was trying too hard to be someone else, and he didn’t really care what I chose, as long as it was something worthwhile.
I didn’t click with anyone in his circle of friends.
I was always on the outside, looking in. ”
Brock rubbed his lips together, debating what to say next. But the admission slipped from him before he could stop himself. “D.C. may not have worked out, but there’s always a place for you here. In Mystic Cove. If you want to stay.”
Juliette twisted on the couch, turning into him, an inch or so more and she might as well be in his lap.
Devastation was harbored in her expression, and a kind of darkness lingered there.
A tiny line crinkled across her brow as her gaze searched his, those silvery pools of endless beauty haunted by the hollow shadows of the past.
“I waited for you, you know.” When she spoke, her words pierced him, the barb vicious and cruel. “You promised me you’d love me. Until forever.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, lines of hurt etched against her usually soft features. When she opened them, a small glimmer of life returned. “So, I waited.”
“Jules.” His apology would be futile without an explanation. “I—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She shook her head and tucked her knees into her chest, waving him away with a dismissive hand. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me or tell me when you found someone else.”
A stream of curses filtered through his mind. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go. He needed to tell her the truth, that he’d never changed his mind about her. Not ever. The choice had been made for him, an ugly lie wrapped in a pretty bow to protect her.
“It’s not like that, Juliette. I just—”
She leaned forward and pressed a single finger to his lips.
“It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I waited.
” Her finger fell away, but her closeness remained.
She was barely a breath away from him. Her eyes dipped to his mouth then lifted, and she scraped her teeth lightly across her bottom lip.
“Maybe that’s why I’m restless. I’m just tired of waiting. ”
And so was he.
Brock’s hands sought her waist, and he pulled her into his lap so she straddled him.
She made a breathy, gasping kind of noise, and it was enough to send a rush of longing straight to his cock.
She gripped his shoulders for purchase, pink lips slightly parted, eyes wide with expectation and another emotion he couldn’t quite name.
It was so easy for his palms to skate beneath the knotted shirt and discover her skin was as soft as he remembered.
As smooth as velvet. The rough pads of his fingers grazed her hips, her waist, all silky bare flesh.
His thumbs tempted fate, carefully skimming the area just beneath her breasts.
A little higher and he’d be able to grab them, cup them, and gently roll her nipples between his fingers.
But he wouldn’t make that move yet because she was sitting on top of him, frozen in place.
A breath shuddered out of her and still he waited.
“This isn’t a good idea.” Her whisper floated on the air as she cautiously wove her arms around his neck.
“You’re probably right.” Brock nodded once, breathing in the scent of her—she smelled of citrus, of his soap. “This is a terrible idea.”
“But maybe…” Juliette leaned in and her mouth brushed against his, once. Twice. Testing. He’d traced their outline so many times, her full bottom lip and the delicious dip of her cupid’s bow. “Just for tonight…we can pretend.”
“Pretend what?” he murmured against her mouth, his hand sliding up her spine and capturing the back of her neck, angling her just right
“Just pretend.” Then she kissed him, fully and completely. Her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer, until there was no space left between them. Until her soft body pressed against the hard wall of his chest. Until she melted into him, became part of him.
Their tongues meshed. Tasting. Devouring.
It was like a dance, a give and take of who wanted more, who needed more, who was more wildly desperate for the other.
Teeth nipped and her nails scoured him, scraping down his biceps and abdomen.
She rocked forward, grinding against his erection, and he swallowed her whimper of desire.
Pulses of lust coursed through his blood, so his dick was thick and aching.
Brock turned his attention to the column of her throat, trailing a line of steaming kisses down her neck. She arched then, granting him full access.
“Please,” Juliette whimpered, clutching at him, rolling her hips. “Please, Brock.”
“Tell me what you need.” He released his hold on her neck, letting his hand fall so he could grab her by the waist, pinning her to his lap. He wasn’t going to make the first move, and he wasn’t going to make any assumptions. If Juliette wanted something from him, he was going to hear her say it.
“I need…” She bit the words out, panting softly. “I need you to touch me.”
He kneaded the flesh beneath his fingers. “Where?”
Juliette’s eyes flashed to him, lashes fluttering. Her cheeks were pink from the shower and his scruff, and her tongue darted out, swiping along her bottom lip. She adjusted herself on his lap, easing back a little, letting her legs fall open a little wider. “Between my thighs.”
Damn.
“How long?” It was a gentle demand, but he wanted an answer all the same. His fingers dipped beneath the overly loose waistband of her pants, but he refused to go any further until she responded. “How long has it been since you’ve had a proper orgasm, Jules?”
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “Months.”
Brock slid his hand lower to find her smooth and slick, just for him. He rubbed one finger along her center, up and down. “Just pretend?”
Juliette nodded quickly. “Just pretend.”
“Alright.” He shoved two fingers between her wet folds, and she cried out, gasping as her head fell back. He pumped them in and out, hard and fast. A small part of him debated keeping his pace slow, but she was so wound up, so recklessly wired with need, he couldn’t help himself.
She was tight and perfect, clenching around him with every thrust. He curved them, angling them deeper, and she thrashed in his arms. Bouncing and rocking, Juliette was moaning his name over and over.
Like a prayer. Like he was the only one who could save her.
There was something so damning, so utterly satisfying, about watching her come undone because of him.
When he circled her clit with his thumb, Juliette fractured. She was a dream. A vision. Flushed and delicious, she collapsed on top of him, her chest rising and falling to an erratic beat.
Something twinged inside his chest. An ache. A familiar hurt, one that stemmed from longing. From pining.
Juliette slowly climbed off his lap, tugging up the sweatpants as she stood. She raked a hand through her messy, damp hair, refusing to look at him. Her gaze was focused on her bare feet when she said, “I should…go to bed.”
Brock didn’t have time to respond before she bolted from the living room.
He heard the padding of her hushed footfalls down the hallway before they faded completely.
When the door to the guest bedroom closed soundly behind her, Brock quietly cleaned up their drinks and snacks, then headed for the safety of the master bedroom—which was gratefully located on the other side of his house.
Because at least Juliette couldn’t hear him moan her name while he fucked his hand.