Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jenna devours her burger like she hasn't eaten in days. "Oh my God," she moans through a mouthful. "I'm literally always hungry now. It's insane."
I pick at mine, pull off a piece of bun. "That bad?"
"Worse. Last night I ate an entire bag of Doritos and still wanted more." She wipes ketchup from her chin. "Caine's gonna have to take out a second mortgage just to feed me."
I force a smile, push a fry around my plate.
"So." She sets her burger down. "You gonna tell me what's going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?"
I told her everything over text already, but she wants details. I give them to her. Daniel's slap. The blood. Reeves threatening him. Packing up my entire life in garbage bags.
She reaches across the table, squeezes my hand. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
I pull my hand back. "I told him about Marco."
Her eyes widen. "You did?"
"While we were packing. I don't know why. Just... came out."
"What'd he say?"
"Nothing much. He just listened." I swallow. "I wanted him to understand. That I know what violence looks like. That I won't tolerate it."
Jenna nods slowly. "Good. He needed to hear that."
We eat in silence for a minute. She finishes her burger and starts on her fries.
"I've been thinking about an art class,” she says. “Watercolors. Just for fun.”
"Yeah?"
"Caine thinks it's a good idea. Says I should do something fun for myself before the baby comes." She dips a fry in mayo. "There's this class not too far—“
I'm totally not listening.
All I can think about is Julian's mouth on mine. His hands in my hair. The way he whispered my name like a prayer.
"Liza?"
"Hm?"
"You didn't hear a word I said."
"Sorry. I—"
"It's him, isn't it? Julian."
My face burns.
"Oh, babe." She sighs. "You've got it bad."
"I barely know him."
"Doesn't matter." She steals one of my fries. "Sometimes it just hits you like that. Like lightning."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I just left Daniel. Because I'm a mess. Because—" I drop my burger. "Because what if I'm wrong about him too?"
I can't stop thinking about the man.
I've tried everything. Reruns of Love Is Blind, the Sophie Kinsella book I grabbed from the library, scrolling endlessly through TikTok. Nothing works. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. Feel his lips on mine.
Rain hammers the window. Reeves and his girlfriend are already asleep.
I grab my keys before I can talk myself out of it.
The drive takes twenty minutes. Rain pounds my windshield, blurs the streetlights into smears of gold. My hands shake on the wheel. This is crazy. This is absolutely insane. This is reckless and impulsive, and everything I shouldn't be doing right now. This is—
His brownstone building appears through the downpour.
I park, kill the engine. Sit there, breathing hard.
Then I'm out of the car, running up his steps, water soaking through my sneakers, my jacket, my hair plastered to my face.
I knock. Wait.
I'm shaking violently.
The door finally opens.
Julian stands there in grey sweats and a white t-shirt, hair messy, eyes widening when he sees me.
"Liza—"
I don't let him finish. I step forward, grab his neck and pull him to me.
He cups my face, kisses me.
His kiss is soft and gentle at first, but quickly turns desperate—his tongue sliding against mine, his large hands threading through my wet hair.
This. This is what I want.
Not someone who controls me. Someone who sees me.
Julian's hungry but tender, his touch soft even as he pulls me inside, kicks the door shut. His hands roam my waist, my hips, pulling me flush against him.
I gasp into his mouth.
He lifts me, presses me against the door. My legs wrap around him instinctively.
"You're soaked," he breathes against my lips.
"Don't care."
He carries me to the sofa, lays me down and presses down on me, his weight perfect. I bury my face in his warm neck, breathe him in—sandalwood and rain and something uniquely him.
He holds me tight, like he's anchoring me to earth.
"You're safe with me," he whispers. "I swear it."
I kiss him harder. I’m telling myself that this is right.
His fingertips skim my jaw, tuck wet hair behind my ear.
"Julian…" My voice breaks. "I shouldn't."
"Then tell me to stop."
I don't.
Our second kiss is slower. Deep. Hesitant at first, then hungry. His hand splays around my waist, draws me closer.
We undress each other. Fumbling. Urgent. My wet jacket hits the floor, his shirt follows.
I barely know him. This is insane. Reckless. Everything I've been trying not to be anymore.
But his touch erases every rational thought, every carefully constructed wall I've built around myself since Daniel.
And God, I want this with a desperation that frightens me. I want him—this beautiful stranger who showed up in a convenience store like some kind of answer to a question I didn't know I was asking.
He pauses, reaches for his wallet on the coffee table. Pulls out a condom.
"You sure?" he whispers.
I nod.
He sets the condom back on the coffee table and kisses me again.
He tries to be gentle at first. Sweet and tender.
But he can’t quite rein himself in. Before long, both of us are breathless and moaning like animals into each other’s mouths.
His hands explore every inch of me, and his mouth follows, pressing kisses along my collarbone, down between my breasts, across my belly.
Each kiss makes me crave him more, makes me desperately want him inside me.
I slide my hands down his soft back, over the curve of his ass, and slide down his silky briefs. His hard-on is finally free, and I grab him desperately, wanting to feel him so hard for me.
“Fuck,” I whisper, breathless.
He buries a smile into my neck. “You like?”
“Yes…” I tell him, breathless. “What’s not to like?”
“Tell me what you want?” he teases.
“You know exactly what I want.”
He bites my earlobe gently, taking me by surprise. “I want to hear you say the words.”
Interesting. So he’s the playful, teasing type. I like it. “You want me to beg?”
He laughs softly into my hair. “Not quite.”
I’m so turned on, I feel weak. There’s no sense playing coy. I press my mouth against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” I breathe, my heart beating a mile a minute. “Hard. And long.”
He doesn’t waste any time. He immediately slides down my body and practically rips off my white laced panties.
The anticipation is killing me as he reaches for the condom, and quickly slides it on—expertly fast. He’s obviously done this before.
I close my eyes, anticipating him entering me, but he grabs my thighs and spreads them, his hot tongue sliding against my pussy, teasing.
Damn.
“I…” I breathe.
That feels so good.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
And he doesn’t. He keeps at it. Slow and hot and teasing.
I fall into it so easily, so ready for him. I raise my hips and push myself against his hot mouth. I wanted to fuck, but this feels so good—I can’t stop him. I want to come hard into his mouth.
My climax builds quickly as I clutch at the sofa and buck against his face. I’m lost in it. There’s nothing else.
It comes in a furry. I moan loudly as I come. I can’t help it. It’s so fucking intense.
I don’t quite settle until my climax finally recedes, and it does, I’m spent.
He slides up to me. “Satisfied customer?”
I laugh. “Yes… a hundred percent,” I tell him, breathless. “You’re getting a five-star review on Yelp.”
He kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips.
I want to pleasure him too, make him feel as amazing as he just made me feel.
“Fuck me…” I whisper. “We’re not done.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He obliges immediately.
He presses his mouth against my cheek as he enters me—slowly, carefully—I cry out softly, my fingers digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders as I cling to him like he's the only solid thing in a world that's been spinning out of control.
This. This is what I've been missing.
Not ownership.
Connection.
We lie tangled together on his oversized sofa, wrapped in a plush throw that smells like fabric softener and him. My head rests on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
"So you're staying with your boss?" His voice rumbles through his chest.
"Yeah. Reeves. He's been really good about it. His girlfriend, too."
"How's that been?"
I trace patterns on his bare skin. "Weird. But better than staying with Daniel."
I tell him everything. The slap. The blood. How Daniel wouldn't let me sleep, claiming concern about a concussion while showing zero remorse for causing it. How Reeves went ballistic when he found out.
Julian tenses beneath me. "He hit you?"
"Once. That's all it took."
His arms tighten around me. "If I ever see him—"
"Don't." I kiss his shoulder. "It's over."
He shifts, gets up. I enjoy the view—tall, muscular, but lean. Lithe. Like a wild animal. An apex predator moving through its own territory.
The tattoo covering his arm and shoulder ripples as he walks. Music notes cascade down dark skin, piano keys wrapping around his bicep.
He's all contrast. Dark and mysterious, eyes black as coal. Yet so gentle. So sensitive.
The opposite of Daniel.
He returns, in orange boxers, with clothes for me—sweat shorts and a faded Ramones t-shirt.
"Turn around," I say.
"Seriously?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Yes, seriously."
"I've literally just seen you naked."
"Julian."
He grins but turns, facing the wall like a kid in timeout.
I scramble into his clothes. The shirt swallows me, sleeves past my elbows. The shorts hang low on my hips.
"Okay."
He turns, takes one look, and bursts out laughing.
"What?"
"You look like a kid playing dress-up."
"Shut up." I throw a cushion at him.
He catches it, still grinning. "You hungry?"
My stomach answers before I can.
Minutes later, I'm devouring a roast beef sandwich at his small kitchen table, mayo dripping down my chin. He watches me with amusement.
"What?" I mumble through a mouthful.
"Nothing." His smile softens. "Just... glad you're here."
I swallow hard. Set down the sandwich.
"Me too."
And I mean it.