Chapter Thirty-Eight Don’t Deserve Her
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: DON’T DESERVE HER
JULIAN
By midnight, the house is dark. The old attic space that got converted into the guest room I used when I was a kid is small. A single full-sized bed takes up most of the space under a sloped ceiling.
I’m sitting on the edge of the mattress, shirtless and in sweatpants, my head in my hands, listening to the quiet rustle of fabric as Hadley walks out of the small bathroom. She’s wearing one of my old, faded Night Hawks t-shirts, the hem falling halfway down her thighs. Fuck. She looks sexy.
She walks over, her bare feet silent on the worn-out carpet on the floor, and slides onto the bed.
As I lay down, for a moment, I worry she’ll just get crushed between me and the wall…
I barely fit in the bed as it is. Instead, her small arms wrap around my chest. Her cheek presses against my spine, right over my tattoo and the scars beneath it.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my skin, her breath warm. “Thank you for bringing me here, Julian. For sharing her with me. I know how much Mrs. Clay means to you.”
The pure goodness of her makes my throat tighten. I turn around in her embrace, looking down at her in the dim light coming off the lantern on the bedside table.
“She liked you,” I murmur, my voice rough. “A lot. She told me I’d be a fool to let you go.”
Hadley smiles up at me, a sudden, fierce heat flashing in her eyes that knocks the wind right out of my lungs. She reaches up, her small hands sliding behind my neck.
“I want to thank you properly,” she breathes against my lips.
Before I can even process the words, she’s pushing me back onto the bed and sliding down my body, kissing along my chest then my stomach, her movements slow and deliberate. I let out a low, choked groan as her hands slip down my stomach, her fingers pulling my sweatpants down my hips.
Before she goes any further, she hesitates. She sits back on her heels, her hair falling forward over her shoulders, her brown eyes looking up at me through her lashes. There's a beautiful, faint flush on her cheeks, a mix of nerves and absolute determination.
“Julian,” she whispers, her voice a little breathless, her fingers resting against my inner thigh. “Tell me how you like it. I want to do this right for you.”
My heart hammers violently against my ribs. The vulnerability of her asking, of wanting to please me this much, hits me harder than any physical sensation. I reach down, my large hand finding the side of her neck, my thumb stroking her jawline to steady her.
“You’re perfect, sweetheart,” I rumble, my voice thick with a raw heat. “Anything you do is perfect. Just follow your instincts. I'm right here.”
She swallows, her gaze dropping, and she leans forward. Her hot breath teases the head of my cock, making me groan. When her warm lips and the velvet heat of her mouth wrap around my shaft, my brain short-circuits.
My fingers tangle into her hair, my hips instinctively lifting off the mattress as she takes me in, her stroke rhythmic and deep.
“Yes, baby... just like that,” I growl, my eyes closed tight as pleasure burns straight through my veins. “You’re incredible. Fuck, Hadley, you're driving me crazy.”
She destroys my control within seconds, her tongue working with a sweet friction that has me gripping the sheets until the threads strain.
I can tell she’s never done this before, but she’s a natural.
She pays attention to the sounds I make, adjusting her lips and tongue to intensify the pleasure.
She grows bolder with each second that passes.
Just as I feel the white-hot edge of the cliff rushing up to meet me, I pull her up, my breath hitching as I roll her onto her back beneath me.
I reach for my wallet on the nightstand, my hands shaking as I grope for a condom, but Hadley’s hand slides over mine, stopping me.
“No,” she whispers, her cheeks flushed, her eyes incredibly dark and focused entirely on mine. “We’ve done it without one already. I want to feel you inside me. All of you.”
The admission hits my system like a shot of pure adrenaline. I drop the wallet, my hands sliding under her thighs, lifting her legs and draping them over my shoulders. Grabbing her panties, I yank them down her legs and toss them to the floor to reveal her pretty pink pussy.
“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, dragging a finger along her folds. She’s already wet.
“Julian,” she gasps, arching into my hand. “Please, I need you…”
As eager as she is, I don’t rush. I drag my fingers slowly over her wet folds, tracing the highly sensitive seam of her center until she’s slick and shaking beneath me, but I don't slide inside her yet.
Instead, I let my primal instincts take over. Before Hadley, I was never a giver. Sex had always been a blunt, physical transaction. A chore to quiet the noise in my head. But the taste of her has become an absolute addiction. A hunger that lives deep in my marrow.
I slide down her small frame, parting her thighs, and press my mouth directly to her heat.
She lets out a sharp, startled gasp, her hips bucking off the mattress, but I grip her thighs with my large hands, anchoring her.
I use my tongue, dragging it slowly up her wet seam before taking her sensitive bud into my mouth, sucking her in with a heavy, deliberate friction.
She whimpers, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets as she melts under the pressure.
The heady, sweet taste of her hits my tongue, and any lingering shred of my control threatens to snap.
She’s so small beneath me. Hovering over her like this, my shoulders block out the dim light of the bedroom. I slide back up her body, the contrast of our sizes sending a jolt of heat straight to my gut.
“Julian, please,” she wheezes, her chest heaving, her brown eyes dark with blown-out pupils.
“Quiet, baby,” I whisper, leaning down until my lips brush her ear. “We have to be quiet.”
I take my cock in my hand, but instead of driving in, I slowly drag the head of it over her swollen, wet folds, teasing both of us until she’s begging, her hips tilting up to find me.
“Look at me,” I order.
She locks her eyes onto mine, her breathing shallow and ragged.
“Don't you dare come yet,” I murmur, my hand sliding under her lower back to tilt her pelvis, locking her in place. “Hold it for me. I want to feel every single squeeze.”
Only when she nods, her lips parted in a silent plea, do I finally drive deep inside her.
Just like before, the sensation of bare, uninhibited skin-to-skin contact is so overwhelmingly intense I almost lose my mind on the very first stroke.
The tightness of her walls wrapping around me is a beautiful torture.
Hadley lets out a muffled, breathless sob, her small hands flying up to clamp over her own mouth to keep the noise inside as she wraps her legs tightly around my waist.
I move inside her with a hard, controlled rhythm, my chest slamming heavily against hers, the friction of our bodies generating a scalding heat. I lock my mouth onto her throat, sucking gently on the soft skin of her collarbone to smother my own guttural groans as I drive deeper.
Her inner muscles start to tremble, clamping down on me like a vice.
“Julian…” she gasps against my neck, her grip on my shoulders tightening until her nails bite into my skin.
“Now, sweetheart,” I growl against her ear, picking up the pace, driving into her with everything I have. “Come for me. Now.”
The command completely shatters her. She arches against me, her body tightening as she comes.
The violent contraction of her walls sends me straight over the edge.
I let out a deep, animalistic growl into her shoulder, my body shuddering as I spill inside her, giving her every single thing I have until I’m completely empty.
I lie there in the quiet aftermath. The steady rise and fall of Hadley’s chest against mine is the only anchor keeping me grounded. She is completely relaxed, her head resting over my heart, one of her legs still tangled with mine under the heavy sheets.
Looking down at her, a profound, aching warmth settles deep in my chest. She could have been anywhere else this week.
Lainey had sent her a frantic barrage of texts inviting her to a massive, picture-perfect family Thanksgiving, and the guys had practically begged us to stay in Denver and join the team's holiday chaos.
But she turned them all down. She chose to pack her bags and come here.
She chose this cramped space and my heavy, complicated baggage over an easy, comfortable holiday.
She has given me an open, unquestioning acceptance that I still don't entirely know how to carry. Feeling the absolute weight of the trust she’s placed in me, I feel a sudden, terrifying urge clawing its way up my throat.
I want to do something I have never done before.
I’ve never opened up to anyone. Not to the guys, not even to Mrs. Clay.
No one actually knows the true extent of the ruins I had to crawl out of.
I have spent my entire life guarding those dark memories.
Believing that if anyone saw the full, ugly truth of where I came from, they would see the liability I’ve always feared I am.
But looking at Hadley, I want to tear the walls down. I want to trust her just as much as she trusts me.
Hadley’s fingers trace a slow, feather-light circle over my collarbone, her touch sending a quiet shiver through my skin.
“That moment earlier,” Hadley’s voice is soft, a quiet murmur in the dim room.
She shifts slightly, propping her chin on my chest so she can look up at me.
Her eyes are even softer, reflecting the pale moonlight filtering through the blinds.
“When we were at the house, and Mrs. Clay mentioned you as a kid…with the bruises. You changed the subject.”
A heavy weight settles behind my ribs. I stare up at the shadows on the ceiling, my hand sliding down her bare back, my fingers stroking her skin just to keep myself tethered to the present.