Chapter 7 Juliet
JULIET
A FEW DAYS LATER
Icouldn’t think about anything except Bastian anymore. He had completely taken over my mind.
I’d catch myself staring at his hands while he worked on the boat, remembering how they felt on my skin. I’d lie awake at night replaying the way he’d kissed me in the storm, the way his body had felt pressed against mine.
The tension between us had grown so thick it was becoming impossible to hide. We were both walking around like we were afraid to even breathe the same air, but the pull kept building stronger.
The breaking point came on a quiet Wednesday night.
My parents had gone into town for dinner and a movie, leaving the lake house empty.
I was restless and couldn’t sit still, so I wandered over to Bastian’s place under the weak excuse of borrowing a toolbox.
I knew he would see right through that lie, but I didn’t care.
The truth was simpler. I needed to see him. I needed to stop dancing around whatever this was between us. And I needed him to see that fighting it was fruitless.
He opened the door looking exhausted, wearing an old black T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was messy, like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. The second he saw me, his whole body tensed.
“Juliet,” he said, his voice low and strained.
Before he could tell me to leave again, I stepped inside, crowding him at the door, just a spare few inches separating us. Bastian didn’t move. Instead, he watched me with those dark, conflicted eyes.
“I’m done waiting for you to admit it,” I whispered. “I want you, Bastian. And I know you feel the same way. Stop fighting it. Stop fighting us.”
He stood completely still for several long moments, his breathing heavier, quicker. Then the last thread of his control finally snapped.
“God forgive me,” he muttered.
For a second, he didn’t move. Something flashed across his face. Hesitation or maybe guilt, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and knew exactly what would happen if he stepped off.
I saw the battle happening behind his eyes.
Bastian had spent all this time pulling away from me. And every time things got too close, he ran. Every time I reached for him, he found a reason to put distance between us.
Because he thought he was protecting me.
Even now with his body close to mine and his breathing ragged, part of him was still trying to be the man who wrapped his jacket around my shoulders during thunderstorms and made sure I got home safe.
But I wasn’t that little girl anymore. And I didn’t want his protection. I wanted him.
When I lifted my hand and touched his face, Bastian finally broke.
He grabbed me and kissed me like a man who had finally lost the war he’d been fighting. There was nothing gentle about it. His mouth claimed mine with raw hunger, his tongue sliding deep as his hands circled my waist and pulled me hard against his body.
“Tell me to stop,” he growled against my lips as he backed me toward the bedroom. “Tell me right now, Juliet.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I breathed. “I never have.”
That was all it took.
Bastian made a rough, broken sound in his throat, and before we even made it to the room, he yanked my tank top over my head, tossing it aside.
For years, I’d built him up in my mind. The man who always showed up when everyone else let me down. The man who made me feel safe when the world felt like it was falling apart.
Now, he was finally here. Finally choosing me.
The realization hit me so hard it almost stole my breath. Every stolen glance. Every summer I waited for him to come home and he never did. Every lonely night wondering where he was.
It all led to this moment.
And God help me, I’d never wanted anything more.
Bastian backed me up into his bedroom, pushing through the threshold. Knocking the door closed with his hip, he turned me around and pressed my back against the cool wood. His kiss was deep and desperate, hands gliding over me like he needed to feel my skin to believe this was really happening.
Without breaking our kiss, he scooped me up, one arm under my knees and the other around my back, carrying me to the like I weighed nothing. I tangled my fingers in his hair as his mouth devoured mine.
By the time he laid me on the mattress, we were both breathless.
He stripped me down fast, his eyes heavy with hunger as he spread my legs wide and stared at my bare pussy.
As if he couldn’t stop himself, he dragged one long finger through my folds, smearing my juices from tip to knuckle.
Opening his mouth, Bastian sucked his finger clean as he shoved his sweatpants down and flicked them to the side.
“I’m going to fucking hell,” he said through clenched teeth before pushing inside me in one long, powerful thrust.
I cried out, clenching around him so tight he cursed. I was so close to coming, but before I reached the edge, Bastian flipped me onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and drove back into me even deeper.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust. All I could focus on was the overwhelming pleasure and the intense, forbidden thrill of having Bastian completely lose control and ruin me.
When he finally came, he buried his cock as deep as he could go and groaned my name like both a prayer and a curse, pulsing hot and thick cum inside me, filling me until I could feel it leaking out around him and down my crack. I came right along with him.
For a few long moments, we stayed locked together, breathing hard. Then, as if I were watching the world crash down, I saw the moment the guilt hit him like a wave.
Bastian pulled out slowly, his release already starting to gush from between my thighs. He rolled away from me, and I turned to see the devastation written all over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed, dragging both hands down his face.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice cracking. “What the hell did I just do to you?”
The warmth and hunger from moments ago had completely vanished.
All that was left was heavy, crushing shame.