Chapter 8 #2
“No,” I say softly. “It really isn’t.”
The server appears beside the table to refill our glasses, and we both shift back slightly. The interruption gives the room its proportions again, but it does nothing to change the current running beneath the conversation.
Julian lifts his glass once we are alone.
“You can still leave,” he says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No.” His eyes remain on mine.
“Quite the opposite.”
There is nothing exaggerated in his tone, which makes the words more effective. I take another drink, watching him over the rim of the glass.
“Then I suppose you’ll have to keep being interesting.”
Julian’s slow smile changes his entire face.
“I can manage that,” he says.
***
The restaurant has nearly emptied by the time the check is cleared away. Outside the windows, the city has settled into a warm summer night, the sidewalks washed in amber light and the occasional sweep of passing headlights. Julian glances toward the street, then back at me.
“Your driver should still be nearby,” he says.
“I was actually just going to walk back,” I tell him.
“The hotel’s only about six blocks from here.”
Julian’s expression shifts slightly.
“Then I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
I hold his gaze for a moment.
“Julian, it’s six blocks.”
“I’m aware.”
There is no arrogance in the answer, only quiet insistence.
“You’re going to insist, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Yes.”
A smile pulls at my mouth despite myself.
“Fine.”
A few minutes later, we step onto the sidewalk together.
The night air is cooler than I expected, and I draw a slow breath as we turn toward the hotel.
Julian walks beside me without hurrying, close enough that the sleeve of his jacket brushes my bare arm once when we move around another couple coming toward us. Neither of us comments on it.
The conversation is lighter now, stripped of the questions that filled dinner. We talk briefly about Boston, about the restaurant, about nothing that requires much thought. Every few steps, though, I become aware of the space between us and how little of it there is.
At the next corner, Julian places his hand lightly against my lower back as we cross the street.
The touch is practical. Barely there, but my entire body notices it.
When we reach the other side, his hand falls away, but the warmth of it remains beneath the thin fabric of my dress. I look at him, and he catches me doing it.
“What?” Julian asks.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
I smile.
“You’re very confident for a man who spent half of dinner avoiding questions.”
“I answered your questions.”
“Eventually.”
His mouth curves. “You’re difficult.”
“You invited me.”
“I did.”
The way he says it slows something inside me.
We continue walking, but the rhythm between us has changed. Julian’s shoulder brushes mine again, this time without either of us stepping away. When I glance up, his eyes are already on me. The look lasts too long to be accidental. Heat climbs slowly beneath my skin.
My hotel appears at the end of the block, and for the first time all evening, I wish the distance were longer. Julian notices the entrance at the same moment I do.
“You’re here,” he says.
“I am.”
Neither of us moves toward the doors immediately.
The traffic behind us fades into background noise while we stand beneath the awning.
Julian is close enough that I can see the faint shadow along his jaw and the silver threaded through his hair.
His attention drops to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
My pulse stumbles.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
His voice is lower now.
I should say good night. Instead, I remain where I am.
Julian studies my face. “Sophie.”
The way he says my name is different from the way he has said it all week. There is no professional distance left in it.
“Yes?”
His gaze holds mine. For one suspended second, I think he is going to kiss me right there beneath the hotel awning. He doesn’t. The restraint is somehow worse.
A doorman opens the entrance behind me, and the sound breaks the moment just enough for me to breathe again.
“I should go upstairs,” I say.
Julian nods once. “You should.”
I take one step backward, then stop.
“You should come up for a drink.”
The invitation leaves my mouth before I have time to soften it. Julian goes completely still. His eyes search mine, and when he answers, there is nothing casual in his expression.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The word comes easily as Julian steps toward me, reducing the space I just created.
“Then lead the way.”
We walk into the lobby side by side. I am acutely aware of him behind me as we cross toward the elevators, aware of the quiet confidence in his stride and the heat still running through my body.
The elevator arrives almost immediately.
We step inside alone.
I press the button for my floor, and the doors slide shut.
The silence changes the instant we are enclosed together.
Julian stands beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him without being touched. I keep my eyes on the glowing numbers above the doors for several seconds before looking over. He is watching me. Neither of us smiles.
The elevator continues upward while the tension between us tightens with every passing floor, and by the time the doors open, there is no longer any question about why he is coming to my room.
As the elevator doors open onto a quiet corridor, I step out first. Julian follows a pace behind me, close enough that I can feel his presence without looking back. The hallway seems longer than it did last night, every muted footstep stretching the distance between the elevator and my room.
My heartbeat has gone uneven.
I can still smell him, that clean masculine scent that followed me through dinner and the walk back, and the awareness of him behind me makes my skin prickle beneath the fabric of my dress.
The entire evening feels as though it has narrowed to this moment so quickly that I have barely caught up with it.
I know exactly why he is here. I know why I invited him upstairs.
Somehow, knowing does nothing to make the anticipation easier.
When I reach my door, I open my handbag and search for the key card. It is nowhere near where I thought I put it. I move aside my lipstick, wallet, and phone, suddenly far too aware that Julian is standing directly behind me.
“You’re making me nervous,” I say, still looking into my bag.
His voice comes low and close.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“That might be the problem.”
A quiet laugh leaves him. I finally find the card and pull it free. My fingers are less steady than I would like as I swipe it across the lock. The light flashes green, and I push the door open.
The suite is dark until I reach for the switch near the entrance. Warm light spreads across the living room, catching the cream furniture, the polished wood, and the wide windows overlooking the city.
Julian steps inside and glances around.
“I see they took care of you,” he says.
“They did.”
“I’m glad.”
I set my handbag on the console table and move toward the small kitchen area because standing still feels impossible.
“I only have whatever they stocked in the minibar,” I say.
“There’s wine. Vodka. Probably something overpriced pretending to be whiskey.”
Julian follows at an unhurried pace.
“Wine is fine.”
I open the minibar and pull out a bottle of wine, then another smaller bottle before turning toward him.
“Either?”
He closes the remaining distance between us and places his hand lightly over the bottle in mine.
“Either is fine,” he says.
His eyes never leave mine. The room goes very quiet. I look down at his hand over mine, then back at his face. His gaze is steady, but there is nothing casual in it now. My eyes drift to his mouth before I can stop myself, and when I look back up, I know he noticed.
Neither of us says anything. Together, we lower the bottles onto the counter.
Julian remains in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head slightly to hold his gaze.
His hand lifts, slow enough to give me every opportunity to move away, and his fingertips brush along my jaw before settling lightly against the side of my face.
My breath catches.
“Sophie,” he says quietly.
I don’t know whether the way he says my name is a warning or a question. I answer by closing the space between us.
The first kiss is controlled for barely a second. Then his hand slides behind my neck and pulls me closer, and whatever restraint survived the walk back disappears. I grip the front of his jacket as he kisses me again, harder this time, the force of it pushing a breath from my lungs.
I kiss him back with everything I have been pretending not to feel.
His other arm closes around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and my hands move into his hair. The neat sweep of salt and pepper comes loose beneath my fingers as the kiss deepens, rougher and more urgent than anything that has passed between us before.
We break apart only long enough to breathe. Julian’s forehead nearly touches mine. His hand remains at my waist while his eyes search my face.
“Still sure?” he asks.
“Yes.”
The answer barely leaves me before I pull him back toward me. He kisses me again, and this time there is nothing tentative in it. I feel his hands tighten around me before he bends, lifts me easily, and brings me against him.
My arms lock around his shoulders as my legs wrap around his waist. I can feel his hard cock pressing through his pants and the movement draws a startled laugh from me that disappears against his mouth.
Julian carries me the few steps toward the kitchen counter without breaking the kiss, and I hold on to him, fingers sliding through his hair while the room seems to blur around us.
When he sets me on the edge of the counter, he stays between my knees, one hand braced beside me and the other still at my waist.
For one suspended moment, we simply look at each other. Then I pull him back to me.