Chapter 31
Ian
The room Julia’s staying in at Heidi and Nicole’s house is small but cozy.
A TV dominates one wall, and the sofa bed opposite is already made up with mismatched flannel sheets and a fluffy comforter.
Julia’s overnight bag sits on a chair in the corner, and someone has cleared space on the bookshelf for her things.
It’s cozy and safe, and that’s what she needs right now.
“You doing okay?” I ask, hovering in the doorway while Julia sinks onto the edge of the bed with a deep sigh.
She nods, but her hands are trembling. I can smell the stress hormones rolling off her, sour and sharp beneath her usual sweet-peach scent.
Richard really rattled her tonight. When she described how he put his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him, a large part of me was tempted to go over there and tear his throat out with my teeth.
“Offer stands to take you to file a police report.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to make it ugly.”
He’s already made it ugly, but I bite my tongue.
Heidi appears behind me with a stack of towels and places them on a side table.
“Use Matthew’s bathroom upstairs if you need a shower.
The one down here sucks. There are extra blankets in the hall closet if you get cold, although I think Nic piled three on there already.
Leftovers are in the fridge if you get hungry.
I’d tell you to help yourself to the wine rack, but that’ll have to wait until January.
” Smiling sympathetically, she pats Julia’s shoulder.
“You’re going to be okay, hon. This is just one bad day. ”
“We’re heading to bed,” Nicole adds from where she’s leaned against the door frame. “But if you need anything, you know where to find us. Feel free to stay over if you want, Ian.”
I catch Nicole’s eye and give her a grateful nod. They’re giving us privacy, and I appreciate it. Julia needs time to decompress before I decide whether to head home. She’s still looking too pale and wobbly for my liking.
After they disappear upstairs, I crouch in front of her and take her cold hands in mine. “Did you eat today?”
She nods. “I told you, I’m not a meal-skipper. We ate turkey pretty early, though, and I didn’t have much stomach for it.”
“I bet you’ll feel better if you have something.” I squeeze her fingers. “Stay here. I’m going to make you a plate.”
The kitchen is unfamiliar, but the Thanksgiving leftovers are easy to locate in the packed fridge. I find some chamomile tea bags in the cabinet, too. While the leftovers reheat in the microwave and the tea steeps, I warm some oat milk on the stove, adding honey and a pinch of cardamom.
When I return to the TV room with the tray, Julia looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. She’s been weeping. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.” I set the tray on the coffee table that’s acting as a nightstand and sit beside her on the bed. “Drink the tea first. It’ll help you relax.”
She takes a sip, and some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “This is really good. I don’t usually add milk and honey to my herbal teas.”
“My mam used to make it like that for us when we couldn’t sleep.”
She picks up her fork and samples the plate of leftovers, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. By the time she’s finished, her hands have stopped shaking.
“Feeling a little better?” I ask.
“I am.” She sets down the fork and looks at me, her dark eyes vulnerable behind her glasses. She clears her throat awkwardly. “Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. I know you’d rather be hanging out with your family.”
“You’re my family.” I brush a strand of hair back from her face and shift so I’m sitting against the back of the sofa and pat the space in front of me. “Come here.”
She gives me a questioning look but scoots over, settling between my legs with her back to my chest. Her hair tickles my chin, and I breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
“What are you doing?” she asks as my fingers slide into her hair.
“Scalp massage. Another Lyall family specialty.” I start at her temples, working in slow circles. “Just close your eyes and breathe.”
She melts against me as I work my way across her head, applying gentle pressure to the spots where tension is gathered. I massage behind her ears, and she makes a sound that’s almost a purr.
“That feels incredible,” she mumbles.
“So do you.” I try to focus on the task and not on how good she feels pressed against me. The heavy warmth of her body. The way her breathing has slowed and deepened. The soft curves I can feel through the thin fabric of her pink pajamas.
My cock stirs, and I silently curse myself. This is not the time. She’s mourning her marriage, and the last thing she needs is me getting hard while I comfort her. But when Julia shifts against me, I have to bite back a groan. She definitely felt that.
“Ian?” she asks, turning her head slightly to look at me.
“You can ignore that,” I scrape out, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how my body responds to you. It doesn’t mean I expect anything from you, especially tonight.”
“What if I need you, especially tonight?”
My hands pause in her hair. “What are you saying?”
She twists in my arms so she’s sitting sideways on my lap, cradled in one arm. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes have that glazed look I remember from the night we made the pups.
“The pregnancy hormones have me going crazy,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
She reaches up to stroke my muzzle. “I’ve been so.
.. I don’t know. Wound up. All the time.
And now you’re here, and you smell so good, and you’re being so sweet to me, and Richard and I are officially separated. ..”
She doesn’t have to finish the sentence, because I lean down and kiss her chamomile-and-honey lips, threading my fingers through her hair and pulling her closer. I deepen the kiss until she gasps against my mouth.
Without breaking our kiss, I slide my free hand across her belly, feeling for the hem of her flimsy top. I slip my fingers beneath it, traversing over the swell of our pups inside her before reaching her heavy, sensitive breasts. I cup each in turn, and she arches into my touch.
Her nipples are so tightly beaded, I can feel them scrape across my palm. I want to strip her bare and worship every inch of her. Knowing she wants me, that she’s been craving me, is making me feel feral.
Instead of tearing off her clothes and taking her in her friends’ makeshift guest room, I cup her face and slow the kiss, savoring the soft slide of her lips against mine. She makes a frustrated noise and tries to speed up again, straddling my lap so she can grind against the bulge in my jeans.
“Easy,” I murmur against her mouth. “We can take it slow.”
“I don’t want easy.” She nips at my lower lip. “I want you.”
“You have me.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the sensitive spot below her ear. “But we’re in your friends’ house. I don’t think you want them to hear you screaming my name.”
She shivers at that, and a fresh wave of her arousal perfumes the air. Gods, she’s so responsive.
“You’re right, we probably shouldn’t. Not here. But could you maybe...” She breaks off, nibbling her lower lip, afraid to ask for what she wants.
“What do you need, pretty girl?”
“Touch me?” Her voice cracks, and she covers it with an embarrassed giggle. “Please. I’ve been aching for you, and I haven’t let myself indulge in those feelings. I haven’t had…um…release.”
The admission makes something possessive flare in my chest. She needs me. I’m the one who can give her what she needs.
“I would love to do that.” I cup her jaw and kiss her again, soft and lingering. “Lie back for me.”
She obeys, sinking into the pillows with her dark hair fanning around her head. I settle beside her, propped on one elbow so I can see her face. My free hand traces down her arm, across her belly where our pups are growing, and comes to rest on her thigh.
“These pajamas are very cute,” I observe, rubbing the soft fabric between my fingers. “But they’re in my way.”
“Should I take them off?”
“Hm, no. I like the challenge.” I slip my hand under the waistband, feeling the elastic give way as my fingers slide across warm, bare skin until I feel the brush of her soft pubic hair.
She’s not wearing underwear. The realization makes my cock throb painfully.
“No panties, Julia? Were you expecting this?”
“I was hoping,” she admits breathlessly. “Is that bad?”
“It’s perfect.” My fingers part the damp hair, seeking her clit, and she whimpers when I find it, clutching my arm. “You’re already so wet for me.”
“I told you, it’s my hormones. I’m like a fountain.”
“Mm-hm.” I stroke through her folds, coating my fingers in her slickness. “I think it’s not just hormones. I think maybe you like me.”
The cheeky smile that shines on her face is confirmation, and she spreads her legs wider to give me better access.
I take my time exploring her, relearning the terrain I only got to map once before.
She’s swollen and sensitive, her clit standing at attention between plump pussy lips, and when I circle it with my thumb, she bucks against my hand.
“That’s it,” I encourage her. “That’s perfect. Take what you need.”
I let her roll her hips against my thumb until she’s panting, and then I push two fingers inside her.
She clenches around me immediately. She’s tight and hot and so wet it seems impossible.
Sensation zips over my skin like it’s my cock inside her, and I have to remind myself that this is about her pleasure, not mine.
I curl my fingers, searching for that spot that will make her come, and I know I’ve found it when she gives a soft, urgent cry.
“Shh.” I kiss her to muffle the sound. “Gotta be quiet, remember?”
She nods frantically, biting her lip as I work her with slow, deliberate strokes. My thumb maintains a steady rhythm on the side of her clit while my fingers press and curl inside her. Her hips rise to meet each thrust, her hands fisting in the sheets.
“You look so beautiful like this,” I tell her, watching her lashes flutter against her cheeks on every inward stroke. “I love making you feel good.”
“Ian.” My name comes out strangled. “I’m close. I’m so close.”
“Then let go. I’ve got you.”
Her orgasm hits a minute later, her whole body going rigid as she ripples around my fingers, mouth open in a silent scream. I feel the rhythmic pulses of her release and keep stroking, drawing it out, until she finally goes limp with a shuddering sigh.
I ease my fingers out of her gently and bring them to my mouth, licking them clean while she watches with half-closed eyes.
“You were trying to make me noisy,” she accuses weakly.
“Guilty.” I lean down to kiss her forehead and am rewarded with a satisfied exhale. “Feel better?”
“So much better.” She reaches for the front of my jeans, sliding over the outline of my shaft to under my balls. Even through the thick denim, her touch makes my eyes roll back in my skull. “Let me return the favor.”
As much as I want that, I catch her hand and bring it to my lips instead. “Not tonight. Tonight was about you.”
“But you’re so hard.” She pushes her lip out in a pretend pout.
“I’ll survive.” I adjust myself discreetly, wincing at the pressure. “There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, you need to sleep.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but a yawn escapes her instead. The tension has finally drained out of her, leaving her pliant and drowsy.
I help her adjust her pajamas and pull the covers up over her. Then I lie beside her, stroking her hair until her breathing evens out and her eyes drift shut.
“Goodnight, pretty girl,” I whisper, pressing one last kiss to her temple. “Sweet dreams.”