Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Julian
Stay with me.
Charlie’s words surged through him, carried through his veins like liquid fire.
Heat spread from the top of his head, coursing down through his limbs, and he knew the only thing that would quench the burn was to touch her.
And he wanted to stay, wanted to reassure her that he was a steady presence in the storm of her complicated feelings.
Julian wrapped his hands around her waist, locking them behind her back as they pressed against the kitchen counter. He felt the pull of muscle as she stretched up on her toes, searching out his lips again. Julian lowered his head, making her search easy, and kissed her once, twice, three times.
Their plates rattled as they swayed, his hands shifting from the small of her back, down to squeeze her ass.
Charlie was all softness—the silk of her lips, the way she was draped in his arms—and he stroked his hands up, chasing the grooves of her spine like a ladder until he reached her neck. Then he sank his hands into her hair.
She groaned in response, her eyelids fluttering closed, and Julian grinned at the way her lips parted. At the color in her cheeks. And the way her chest heaved.
He kissed her again, flicking his tongue along her lower lip before catching her tongue and sucking it into his mouth, swallowing the sounds she made.
He liked all her little sounds.
It was a different kind of music.
One only he got to hear.
“I like it when you do that,” she said, barely opening her eyes.
He liked it, too. He’d always liked kissing her. They’d been good at it from the very start. “You’re really sure you want me to stay?”
“Very sure.”
“Then maybe we should move this somewhere more comfortable?” Kitchens could be fun, but he knew there was a pillowy sofa in the next room, and he’d hate to waste it.
Charlie gripped his hand tightly and tugged him toward the living room.
His eyes widened as he took in the space, half a laugh tumbling from his mouth.
It looked like a Christmas-themed hurricane had blown through.
Shreds of wrapping paper littered the floor, strands of ribbon dangled from the arms of the sofa, while red and green and gold bows sparkled from every horizontal surface. “What the hell happened in here?”
Charlie let out an oomph of acknowledgment. “I started wrapping presents for my parents and Gram when I got home, but then I got distracted and never got back to it.”
“Hate to break it to you,” Julian said, “but you might actually be really bad at gift wrapping.”
Charlie gasped, nudging him playfully. “Take that back. I am a gift wrapping artist. You’ve never seen such fine work.”
“There are shreds of paper everywhere. What gift wrapping artist shreds the paper?”
“I was making sure all my angles were right.”
“What angles?”
“You know,” she said, miming, “for folding in the end pieces.”
“I’m not sure you should be set free with gift wrap.” He leaned down to nuzzle her cheek.
“Take that back.”
“It looks like Christmas threw up in here.”
“It does not!” Charlie’s lips twitched as she glanced around. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I got a little carried away with things.”
“This is a little carried away? We’re gonna have to call in a professional cleaning service or else I’m worried you’ll disappear under all of this mess.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.” She bent down, collecting a few scraps of silver wrapping paper.
Julian caught her hand and tugged her back up. “Leave it.”
“You’re the one complaining about the state of the room.”
“I was simply impressed with your level of dedication.”
“Felt a little judgmental,” she said, poking his chest. “Don’t mess with me or my gift wrapping.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He stroked his thumb across her cheek, and she caught his hand, guiding him toward the sofa. They plopped down in a sea of wrapping supplies. Paper crinkled under him, and he laughed as Charlie sank against his side.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He bussed her temple. “It’s growing on me, actually.”
“Is it?”
“Mm-hmm. It adds a certain pizzazz the living room was missing before.” He reached down. A bow had stuck to the back of her shoulder. He peeled it off, and she huffed at his teasing.
“Point taken.” She gestured across the living room to a stack of velvet-wrapped boxes with impeccably placed green bows. “But you have to admit, the end product is impressive. And that’s what matters. How I got there isn’t the point.”
Julian grinned at her. He sort of felt like that about the music program.
They may have been taking a messy, indirect route, but if he managed to make it work in the end, what did it matter?
Because Charlie was still here. She still wanted to do this choir thing with him.
Right? He swallowed hard, part of him wanting to ask again, wanting to be sure after today’s hiccup.
Stay, he wanted to say to her. For Doris. For the choir. For me, he thought briefly, desperately. Stay for us.
“What did you get Doris anyway?” he asked instead.
Charlie smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I would. I want to make sure we don’t buy her the same thing.” He nuzzled closer, his lips hovering against hers. He watched Charlie’s eyelids close in anticipation, but at the last second he swerved and kissed her cheek.
She made a noise of discontent.
“Something the matter?”
She sighed. “No.”
Julian plucked a piece of red ribbon from the couch, using the end to trace a pattern across Charlie’s cheek. “I don’t know why I was complaining to be honest. I actually really like wrapping things.”
Her eyes opened. “Do you?”
“I’m particularly good at tying bows. Would you like to see?”
Now she was staring at him, curious. He took her wrists in his hands, pressing a kiss to each one, giving her a beat to pull away. When she didn’t, he took the ribbon and looped it around her wrists, making his intentions clear.
Charlie let out a little gasp.
“Is this okay?” he asked, tying perfect loops.
“Yes,” she breathed, tugging gently.
The ribbon was loose enough she could squirm free if she wanted. Hell, if she put enough force on it, the ribbon would snap. It was only flimsy gift wrap. But it wasn’t really about how strong it was, it was what it represented.
Charlie was giving up a measure of control to him. She was trusting him to take care of her. To keep her safe.
She was trusting him with all the dark, cracked pieces of her heart.
And he would be so, so gentle.
Julian stroked his hand through her hair, shifting them so she was lying on her back and he was lying along her side.
Then he pushed her bound hands back over her head, the ribbon dangling in pretty red curls over the arm of the couch.
Charlie’s chest heaved. She was like his own personal gift, and he intended to enjoy every inch of her.
He traced the lines of her face first, the arc of her brow, the straight bridge of her nose, the curve of her chin.
When he was satisfied that he’d memorized each freckle, he let his hands drift down her neck, stopping at the hollow at the base of her throat.
He angled his head, letting his tongue follow.
Charlie’s next breath stuttered, and he sucked gently at her skin.
She squirmed as his hand shifted, tracing the buttons along her shirt. With deft fingers, he popped one open, giving himself better access. He slipped another open, then another, tracing the valley between her breasts.
Charlie groaned.
He nuzzled at her, breathing in the fresh scent of her skin, while his hand traveled farther. She wore loose sweat pants and Julian tugged at the drawstring, searching her eyes for permission. “Is this okay?”
Charlie nodded, closing her eyes and swallowing hard enough for him to see her throat work.
Julian snapped the waistband gently. “Charlie?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s okay.”
He slipped his hand into the waistband of her pants, into the warmth there, and skimmed along her underwear. She was already wet for him, and he ran careful fingers over the place she wanted him most.
Charlie made a whiny, desperate noise, and Julian kissed her until they needed to part for air.
Then he slipped his fingers into her underwear, sliding into wet heat, taking his time to explore just like the last time.
Charlie’s hips bucked, and her hands came up briefly.
He saw the moment she registered that they were still bound with the ribbon.
She sighed, pressing her head back into the sofa as he stroked her.
Charlie squirmed some more, brow furrowed in frustration.
He knew what she was desperate for. Julian removed his hand, and she complained loudly. “Hold on,” he laughed, shifting down the couch. Charlie lifted her hips so he could drag her pants and underwear down her legs before burying his head between them.
“Mmm, yes,” Charlie hissed as Julian flicked his tongue over her clit, drawing tight circles and sucking until she was arching off the sofa.
Her body tensed, and he could tell she wanted to use her hands to touch him.
To guide him. But she was at his mercy, and he set a deliberately slow pace that had her panting.
“Julian,” she said, her voice raspy.
“Yes?” He grinned against her stomach. “Do you need something?”
She bucked her hips, and he lapped at her some more. “I need that.” He dragged his tongue over her clit again, and her body twitched, looking for friction. “More. More, please!”
“Please will get you so far,” he said, refocusing his efforts before working her into a panting, squirming frenzy.
Charlie cried out suddenly, rutting against his tongue as her orgasm took her. He stroked her trembling legs, letting her descend from the high, then crawled up the sofa to untie that pretty little bow around her wrists.
“God,” she said, lifting her head to look at him. “That was new. You definitely didn’t know how to do that the last time.”
He snickered. “Maybe I’ve studied up in our years apart. Did you like it?”