Chapter 6
Everly
Watching Julian film content is beyond hot.
Joining him is even hotter. Ashley runs a tight ship.
He planned the trip so that all content films in one day, but it’s a long, thorough day.
The morning content is four kickboxing combos and three talking pieces that takes about three hours.
The afternoon takes another three hours and includes short reels, motivational clips and a few behind-the-scenes/lifestyle shots.
That it all takes place on Ashley’s property is a bonus.
Julian can use any of the models Ashley has on staff, but he insists I be the model when they need one for his videos.
I’m flattered but so nervous. Turns out, because we work well together and know each other so well and have done these routines together countless times, it only takes one video for me to forget we’re filming and just enjoy working out.
I mean, the director would yell “cut” and have the assistant fix things like hair, sweat and angles.
Besides those interruptions, it’s easy to fall into our routine.
What isn’t easy is pretending I’m not thirsting to get this sweaty, ripped man alone and naked after a full day of proximity with said sweaty, ripped man.
Now that we’re done for the day, we have the evening off. Tomorrow, we’ll be on the ASH private jet first thing in the morning headed back to Blue Lake via the Oak Valley airport—a day earlier than planned. We’re in the green room off Ashley’s home studio and alone for the first time in hours.
“Thanks for doing the videos with me. Made it so much easier. We have a groove.” Julian is wiping his arms down with a damp towel and looking at me in the mirror.
“I agree. I wasn’t sure I would like it, but it was kinda fun. Except the assistant who liked to monitor your glisten factor. I think she likes her job a little too much.” I frown at his knowing smirk.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous before. I think I like it.” He lifts his eyebrows and tweaks his lips to the side.
“Am I giving jealousy? I thought I was just annoyed. I mean, if Callie is there to make sure we don’t look sweaty on camera, why is yours the only sweat she inspects?” I roll my eyes.
“Fair point.” He turns from the mirror, snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me in to plant a hard quick kiss on my lips. “Maybe you’re just not as sweaty as me.”
I don’t let him off with that quick kiss so easily.
I wind my arms around his neck and keep my lips pressed to his.
I tilt my head just enough to invite him to deepen the kiss.
He obliges. It feels like forever since he’s kissed me.
We don’t make a habit of kissing at work back in Blue Lake either, but today just felt .
. . long. If I’m being honest, maybe I low-key want to mark my territory.
I don’t love acknowledging that might be part of it, but I’ve had enough therapy to be self-aware.
Self-awareness be damned.
Working out with Julian always gets me a little keyed up.
We’ve been simulating workouts for almost eight hours now, so my keyed-up has escalated to full-blown hot and bothered.
I clench the sides of his shirt in my hands and pull him tighter to me.
His musky scent, part sweaty man and part pure Julian fills my nostrils.
I push the damp fabric up his body, flat palms sliding up his chiseled abs.
He lifts his arms, allowing me to swipe it over his head. As soon as I do, he snakes his hands inside my workout shorts, gliding the shorts over my hips with his hands.
I whip my sports bra over my head.
Hunger emanates from his midnight-blue eyes as he lifts me and places me on the dressing table, my back to the mirror.
Within moments, we’re panting. His low, baritone chuckle tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he likes it.
Capturing my lips in a searing kiss, he picks me up off the dressing table and carries me to the sofa.
We’re not talking and this isn’t sweet. It’s hot and fast and wild.
As we both come, he holds my body down tight to his and pants through his orgasm and our kiss—our lips against each other but not actually kissing anymore.
I forget where we are or to care to be quiet until he shushes me. “Fuck, Julie, ugh.”
“Shhh,” he breathes heavily into my ear, which only increases the shudders and the intensity of my orgasm.
My man thinks of everything. I’m not sure I could’ve found a coherent thought in this moment with GPS and a tour guide. But afterwards, he picks me up and carries me to the connected bathroom before we make a mess on the nice couch. He stands me in the shower and joins me.
The icy jolt of spray shocks me out of my sex-drunk haze.
We shower quickly. After the long day and the hot sex, I could’ve curled up with my beautiful man and passed out for the next eight hours.
Technically we could do just that with our night off, but I’m guessing we’ll be joining Allie and Ashley for dinner at least before we turn in for the night.
I’m pretty sure we’ve already been in the green room longer than necessary.
The pre-embarrassment of facing anyone when we walk out of here flames my cheeks.
I look up to see if Julian is tracking my reaction. He is. Always.
“Hi, sweet girl.” He drags his index finger down my nose and taps my bottom lip as he says it.
“Hi, hot boyfriend.” I attempt to squash my unease with the sass I know he likes.
He winks and gives me a sweet, soft kiss. “There she is. What’s going on in there?” He taps my forehead.
“I think we might have just announced that we had sex in here.” I turn around and give him my back when he twirls his finger at me to do so. I think he’s going to scrub my back. Instead, he starts washing my hair. His fingers massaging my scalp make my eyes roll back in my head.
“I don’t give a shit who knows. I’ll make love to you again right now.” His words send a tingle through my lower body.
He dips my head toward the spray, letting water and suds sluice down my body, then presses a kiss to my shoulder and turns me around.
Pressing his hands to my cheeks, he pulls my lips to his and kisses me deeply.
He pulls back and pins me with his azure eyes, his lashes spiky and wet.
“You’re my girlfriend. We live together. I think people know we do it.”
He plants a kiss on the tip of my nose, and I can’t help but giggle, embarrassment forgotten.
This is one of the many reasons I love this man.
I want to tell him that, but I don’t. I don’t want things to get serious right now.
I like when he can pull me out of my head and everything feels light and happy and playful.
I can breathe when it’s like this—when we’re like this.
It feels like nothing else matters and I could keep floating on this plane of existence forever.
I can’t wait to be back in our Blue Lake bubble.
As we’re putting on fresh clothes, a knock on the door and Callie’s singsong, muffled voice penetrates my bubble. “Julian? Just wanted to run over some final edits with you when you get a sec.”
I turn to the mirror and start brushing out my wet hair, hoping to hide any reaction my face might give away.
“Be right there, Callie. Thanks,” he calls loud enough to be heard through the door. He comes to the dressing table and stands behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
I mess with my hair a couple seconds longer until I can no longer avoid his eyes without giving myself away.
He squeezes my shoulders and winks at my reflection.
“So, Callie’s an editor now?” I arch one eyebrow at him in the mirror.
He gives me his adorable half smile and runs his hands up and down my arms. “I guess I’m about to find out. Wanna go with? Wait here?” He asks the last question with an unspoken or . . . at the end.
“I think I’ll head out to the beach and catch the last sunset.” I look down and busy my hands needlessly straightening up items on the dressing table.
Kissing the side of my head and gently squeezing my biceps, he says, “I’ll meet you down there as soon as possible. Tell the sun to wait for me.” He winks when I make eye contact again and play along by nodding my head with a half smile at his silly request.
When he closes the door behind him, I throw down the makeup brush.
Not for the first time, I wonder what the hell I’m doing with such a beautiful man.
Everywhere we go, women want to throw themselves at him and do.
I mean, that’s why a few random workout videos of him went viral to begin with.
Granted, we didn’t get out much to have to deal with it on a daily basis, but I see the writing on the wall.
I’m not sure I’m prepared or cut out to deal with everyone wanting my man.
I want to throw a toddler-level tantrum, but I settle for shoving my shit into my bag, hastily straightening up the green room and slamming the door on my way out to the beach.
I cringe at the sheer brattish behavior—very unlike me, but I can’t deny the satisfaction of the door rattling in its jamb.
Yeah, I’m supposed to talk about my feelings, but I’m better at pretending everything is fine.
It’s what good military brats do. I mentally salute myself as I stalk out of the building.
***