Chapter 11
CHRIS
We’d been talking for hours. About her job, about mine, about how messy Carol was.
At one point, I casually mentioned that her favorite talk show host was actually a raging homophobe, which got him immediately demoted to her most-hated talk show host. Anything to stay clear of the elephant in the room: that both of us had been dreaming about a life where we were together.
In my case, for twelve whole years. For her? God knows how long.
Now we were sitting on the floor, the air cool and quiet around us. Jules leaned her head on my shoulder while I finished off the wine and set the empty bottle down.
“Do you normally drink this much?” She asked.
I hesitated, glancing at the empty bottle that I had taken down pretty much solo.
“Let’s say it helps make my life a tiny bit more bearable.”
She looked at me with no judgment in her eyes, only more questions. I could practically hear her loud brain from here. And I appreciated that she didn’t push, not with this. But her eyes alone… made me want to keep talking.
“It’s not like I even get drunk off a single bottle of wine.
It’s… It’s a boost. To function.” Still no words from her.
Just those eyes. “It’s a crutch at this point.
I don’t think I could stop even if I tried…
” The last part came out lower, softer. I wasn’t sure I was allowed to say it out loud yet.
I wasn’t drunk. But the wine sure made Jules’ job of getting me to open up and bleed out trauma easier. She hadn’t run for the hills yet. But maybe this would be the thing that finally sent her packing.
The man I was in my dreams didn’t need a bottle of wine to get through the day. He wasn’t… this. I wondered what version of me she’d carried in her head. Definitely a better one if it got her to take a chance and come here tonight.
Am I in battle with myself? Ha. No questions there.
“Did you, though?” she said, breaking through my spiral.
“What?”
“Tried?”
Her eyes were still locked on mine. No escape. I’d never felt this vulnerable from a look alone. I wanted to tell her everything.
Because she didn’t know what it had taken to get here, and how I was determined to prove everyone wrong, especially my father.
I wanted to show him that acting could be more than some foolish dream.
And yeah, I’d succeeded. Meanwhile, my brothers’ football careers had fizzled out mid-college, but their jobs were now “worthwhile,” as he’d always said.
“Real value, real careers.” I could almost hear my father’s voice in my head.
Instead of listening to my gut and saying it all out loud, I, as usual, deflected.
“So, Liam’s a Spider-Man guy, huh? Gotta say, I’m hurt…”
Jules smiled but caught on to my not-so-subtle dodge. “He loves your character too…”
“Don’t lie!” I teased, and we both laughed.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more intoxicating sound than her laughter.
It made my body react instinctively in a mix of warmth, contentment, and arousal.
But her smile soon faded. Her eyes shifted from something soft to inquisitive, and I knew something was coming. She paused for a second before asking:
“Did you… dream about them, too? My kids, I mean.”
I straightened up, caught off guard. I thought we were avoiding the subject, but here we go.
“Yeah… same names, too.” I paused. I knew it would probably cross her mind, but I wasn’t about to mention that in my dreams, they weren’t just her kids.
They were ours. I made an executive decision to spare her the whole truth.
To keep it from getting too heavy, and honestly, to spare myself too, to avoid touching on a sore spot.
Because the family that lived in my mind was one I grieved every day, one I longed for more than anything in life, even though until today, I thought it was just a figment of my imagination.
So I simply added, “But I couldn’t see their faces clearly. Not like yours…”
I let my mind wander about their faces, just for a second, so I wouldn’t spiral. Because she looked exactly like the woman I’d been dreaming about all these years. Every little detail. Her freckles, even the tiny ones right near her hairline, were all so familiar.
Before I could stop myself, my hand moved, fingers brushing her temple and trailing down. I traced my thumb along the faint blush of her cheeks, then down to those soft lips. The ones I’d kissed in my head a thousand times.
That’s all I wanted now, to lean in, kiss her, and let the rest of the world dissolve. But I caught myself and slowly pulled my hand back. No. It wasn’t the time to lose control. I had to remind myself we weren’t some long-standing love story. We’d just met, and if I rushed it, I’d ruin everything.
Jules sensed my restraint. She stood and walked to the edge, staring out at the city, quiet now, its lights dimmed. Her hair tumbled down her back, the red bright against the black of her dress. The dress hugged her in a way that made it impossible for me to stop looking.
“It’s late. I should go…” She murmured.
I couldn’t let her leave. Not now. It felt like my entire body was physically rejecting the idea of her being more than a few steps away. Before I could overthink it, I stood up, and my hands were already on her waist, turning her to face me.
Logic? Out the window. Space? Yeah, right. She’d been straightforward about what she wanted all night, so I trusted she would tell me if this was a no-go.
I brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, my fingers lingering longer than they should have.
Then, finally, I leaned in and kissed her.
Slow at first, but whatever self-control I’d managed so far snapped as the kiss deepened.
My body pressed closer to hers. I was immediately hard, like a damn teenager, and all I could think about was what might happen if we went further.
She broke the kiss. I froze, wondering if I’d gone too far. But she looked up at me.
“There’s a hotel across the street.”
I blinked, the words taking a second to sink in, my mind registering them, but not my body. It was too late. I was totally gone. I didn’t have a single string of control left. She had all the strings now.
“I see…”
Her eyes didn’t waver. “How long would it take for you to get us a room?”
Jules and I stumbled into the hotel room, our mouths locked together like we couldn’t stand to be apart.
The door slammed shut behind us, and I reached to lock it without breaking the kiss.
Her fingers traveled down my neck and curled into my shirt, pulling me toward the bed, and I let her push me down onto the edge.
Her lips were flushed, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Her hazel eyes had that caramel glow again under the soft golden light of the room.
There was no hesitation in them, no doubts, no mask.
I knew exactly how that felt. I’d let go of all my doubts, too, the second our mouths met.
Being here with her, lost in her body… nothing had ever felt this right.
She pulled her whole dress off in one quick move.
Holy Shit. My eyes traced her curves, her swollen nipples under her bra, and I saw the small scar on her left side, shaped like a butterfly.
Car accident when she was six. I already knew.
I could confirm it later, but right now? I wanted to kiss her there.
She climbed onto my lap, giving me a teasing kiss that lingered enough to leave me wanting more. Her fingers found my beard. She seemed to like it even though everyone around me kept saying I should shave it off immediately. She let out a giggle, her forehead brushing mine.
“What?” I asked.
“Déjà vu, I guess…” She murmured, her lips hovering next to mine.
That smile. It wrecked me. As if I wasn’t already hard enough, she felt me getting even more aroused and teased, brushing her hips forward and back, slow and deliberate.
“You’re going to kill me, woman,” I whispered, not daring to close the gap for a full kiss, letting our lips barely touch. Her eyes were locked on mine, and she bit my lower lip. Gently at first, then harder. And harder.
I couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl, I took her, lifting us both as her legs tightened around my waist. I turned us and laid her gently on the bed.
Her hair slipped free from the half-up style, tumbling into a cascade of copper waves spreading across the white sheets.
She looked up at me, flushed and breathless, and I knew I was done for.
I leaned in, kissing her neck, shoulder, and little freckles.
Slowly. Savoring. Every. Moment.
Her hands slid under my shirt, pushing it up until I yanked it over my head and tossed it aside. Her fingers trailed across my chest, measuring all the several tattoos. I paused to take her in.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I murmured. I barely had time to lean back before she tugged me closer, her body instinctively arching toward me.
I went back to kissing her, picking up where I left off, letting my lips explore the curve of her clavicle. I moved lower, down her ribs, to her stomach, while my hand slid under her bra.
“Chris…” She whispered, her voice so deliciously shaky I had to take a deep breath not to lose control. No. I would take my time, enjoying her, getting drunk on her taste.
I pressed a lingering kiss below her belly button before my hands trailed down her sides, fingertips brushing lightly against her until they found the edge of her underwear.
I sat up to take it off, moving slowly. Once it was off, I kissed the curve of her foot before tossing the laced panties aside.
I was curious. Would she taste as insanely sweet when her body shivered to the touch of my tongue as she had in my dreams? I leaned back in, my lips trailing along the sensitive inside of her thighs, and then I felt how wet she already was with the tip of my tongue.
I was wrong.
Listening to her moaning and trembling wasn’t as good as my dreams.
It was better. So much better.
I could’ve stayed there for hours, feeling her body surf waves of pleasure. One. After. The. Other. But her fingers slid from my hair to my shoulders, urging me upward. I didn’t resist. I moved up, meeting her kiss, still tasting her on our lips.
Her hands roamed down my back, her nails scraping along my sides, sending sparks through me, like she somehow already knew this was the signal I couldn’t resist. My hand dropped to my pants, quickly undoing them and finally freeing my cock, throbbing and aching for her.
I held myself at her entrance, waiting and asking without words.
And when her legs wrapped tightly around me, pulling me closer, that was all the permission I needed.
I pushed into her slowly, and her nails dug into my back.
I knew they’d leave marks. I’d wear them proudly, like a fucking Olympic medal.
Her lips brushed against my ear as she moaned, soft and sweet at first but growing louder with every thrust, every inch I gave her.
We found our rhythm instantly, like we’d been doing this forever.
It was like a manual had unlocked in my brain, guiding me on exactly how to touch her, where to move, and how to angle myself to match her every need.
There was no need for words because we both knew how to bring each other to the edge and pull back over and over again.
No other words, just her whispering my name when she was about to come undone, which made me follow, losing myself completely in her.