25. Jules
TWENTY-FIVE
JULES
I slam the dryer shut and carry the laundry basket up to my room. I’m behind on my book, so naturally now’s the perfect time to do laundry. It also means I can pretend to ignore my agent’s email asking me how things are progressing.
I love my agent, she’s an angel. But right now, her question is stressing me out. I am working on a book, but it’s not the one I’ve sold to my publisher. I’m connecting more with the characters on my side project so all my time and focus is being spent on them.
I dump my clothes on the bed and start folding. I hear Drew moving around in his room and I look behind me at Bailey, sitting in her chair by the window.
“Your dad is turning out to be the strangest conundrum,” I say softly.
Where is Mr. Grumpy? The man who was always mean to me and argued with me? The one I’m living with teases me more than he argues with me. We slept on this very bed three nights ago and I once again had the best sleep of my life.
What is happening? Have I entered a parallel universe? That can be the only logical explanation. Except if I share it with Drew, he’ll tell me it’s not logical because there’s no such thing as a parallel universe.
“He’s going to make me crazy,” I tell Bailey. “I’m going to leave here in need of more therapy.”
Speaking of leaving and making me crazy, we’ve seen three apartments that I really liked and he found fault in all of them.
Okay, the first one did have bad acoustics and as soon as we walked in, we could hear the people upstairs having very loud, very enthusiastic sex.
And the second place had someone die in there and that was creepy, even for me.
And the third place had terrible security.
Okay, logically, all the places were bad even if the apartments were beautiful.
“Maybe I should buy a house,” I say. “Then maybe Drew will let me watch you while he’s away.”
As the idea enters my head, I realize I really like it. I have the money. I don’t need to rent an apartment when I can have my own house.
“What do you think?” I look behind me at Bailey, and she’s too busy looking out the window to care.
I reach for a t-shirt, but when I hold it, I notice it’s three times too big for me. Even my loose sleep shirt isn't this big, which means Drew’s shirt has gotten mixed up with mine.
HIS CLOTHES ARE MIXED WITH MINE!
I don’t know why I’m freaking out over this simple mistake. If my clothes had gotten mixed with his, he wouldn’t have freaked out. He would have marched down the hallway, knocked on my door, and handed it back to me.
I bring the shirt to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smells like my laundry detergent, and maybe it’s a trick of my mind, but I can pick up Drew’s smell under it. Yep, I’m going crazy. There’s no better example of it than standing in my room, smelling his clothes.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Bailey.
Walking out of the room, I march down the hall and knock on Drew’s door. I’m not sure what he’s doing there since he rarely locks himself inside during the day. Maybe another home renovation project.
He pulls the door open and I inhale sharply which leads to a fit of coughing as my breath gets stuck in my throat.
“Fuck, are you okay?” Drew’s eyes widen and he steps forward to help me.
I nod frantically, trying to breathe normally as my eyes water.
Drew is shirtless.
DREW IS SHIRTLESS!
My brain is screaming at me, the words flashing inside my brain like a signal.
I’ve seen Drew shirtless before. When we were kids. I’m about five seconds away from swooning.
There’s just so much of him. So much pale skin and muscles, his chest lightly dusted with hair. His jeans hang low on his hips, showing off his happy trail and the v thing that some guys have. He fills the doorway completely and I can’t see anything beyond him.
I cough again.
“Jules, seriously, are you okay?” Drew looks like he wants to do something to help me, but he’s not sure what I need.
Probably because he’s never had to deal with a crazy woman standing in front of him having an anaphylactic shock from seeing him shirtless.
“I’m calling 911,” Drew says, moving back into the room.
My eyes swing around his room, noticing the dresser, the open windows, the curtains lifting with the breeze, his bed.
I make a noise and Drew is back in the doorway, eyes wide.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
His headboard has hooks on it.
HIS HEADBOARD HAS HOOKS ON IT!
Drew is standing in front of me, his eyes panicked. “Jules, I’m going to touch you.”
I appreciate the warning because I would have panicked for a whole lot of other reasons as he cups my face. He steps closer so I can’t see anything beyond him. His eyes are the same green as the leaves growing on the trees outside my window.
“Breathe, Jules,” he says, softly. “Inhale in, exhale out. Just like that.”
I mirror him as he breathes in and exhales slowly. We do it until my breath steadies and I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out. I’ve seen other shirtless men, but I’ve never nearly given myself a panic attack at the sight of one, and not even because of my trauma and aversion to men.
“Feeling better?” Drew asks, his voice quiet.
He’s so close to me, closer than I ever let any man. The fear I expect isn’t there. I’m not shying away from his touch, I’m not worried how I’m going to react if he touches me…more intimately.
I nod. “I’m fine.”
“Really? Because you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Have his lips always been this soft and inviting? Why can’t I stop looking at them?
“I have to keep you on your toes. Can’t have you getting too comfortable,” I say.
Drew hums and the sound sends a shiver of pleasure through me. He’s still cupping my face, his hand warm and calloused.
“Tell me what happened,” he demands.
“Nothing, I just breathed wrong.”
I’m not about to tell him that the sight of him shirtless sent me into a tailspin. Drew frowns, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully, he doesn’t argue.
He lowers his hands and I immediately miss the warmth.
“I…” I look down at my hands. “Your shirt got mixed up with my laundry.”
I hold it out for him and he takes it from my hand. “Thanks.”
Nodding, I push my hair back behind my ears and take a step back. “I have more laundry to fold. I’ll see you later?”
Drew is still frowning, his shirt bunched in his hand, and nods. I turn around and flee to my room, closing the door and leaning against it.
“I’ll see you later?” I whisper, rolling my eyes. Of course, he’ll see me! We live together. We eat most of our meals together.
I need to get out of the house. That’s the only answer to this insanity creeping up on me.
“Jules.” Drew is right behind me, his breath warm against my neck. I shiver, my skin pebbling. My legs squeeze together as a light sheen of sweat breaks out across my skin.
“Sweet Juliet. Do you have any idea of the things I want to do to you?” Drew whispers.
I moan, pushing back against him. He’s so much larger than me and I don’t know why I find that so appealing all of a sudden.
“I want to take my time with you, learn every inch of your body, learn what will make you cry out in pleasure, screaming my name.”
“Drew,” I moan. It’s dark in my room and I can’t see him, but I can feel his body pressing into me. I want to touch him. My pulse pounds between my legs, eager for his touch I want him to make me come.
His hand lands on my bare thigh, skating up and around my waist, sliding under my waistband. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, for hours and days, until your body will remember me always.”
I wake up with a gasp, my legs twisted in the sheets, breath ragged, and pussy pulsing with need. Moonlight streams in through the window into my darkened room where I’m all alone.
I fall back onto the bed with a groan. Now I’m having sex dreams about Drew?
I need to get him out of my mind. I need something to distract me.
Sitting up, I reach for my phone and open the dating app, agreeing to meet the last man I was texting.
The dating social experiment might have been a failure, but it’s still better than thinking about Drew in the middle of the night.
I set the phone back and turn over in bed but sleep evades me. My body is still hungry, my breasts heavy and aching with need.
No, Jules, just go to sleep. You’re fine. Count sheep.
I flop onto my bed and close my eyes, breathing deeply. All I see is Drew half naked and all I feel are his hands on my body, touching me everywhere. I imagine a rope binding my hands together, pulled through the hooks on his headboard, Drew’s body hovering over mine.
It should send me into a panic. Being unable to move while a man twice my size hovers over me should have my body locking up with trauma. Instead, I feel slickness between my thighs as my body becomes more aroused, demanding release.
I turn over, reaching for my bedside drawer. Pulling it open, I grab my vibrator. Better to live out the fantasy in my mind on my own terms.
I push it under my shorts and my back arches as soon as the vibrator presses against my clit. I moan softly, closing my eyes. The only thing I see is Drew and I give over to the fantasy, just for tonight.
I play with my tits and imagine his calloused hands squeezing them, tugging and twisting on the nipples. His hot mouth around them, licking and sucking.
“Drew,” I moan.
I’m writhing on the bed, my body twisting as my pleasure rises. I imagine Drew kissing his way down my body, his eyes looking at me as he slowly lowers my shorts, eyes dropping to my pussy.
“Fuck,” he groans, voice low. “Such a little pretty pussy. Can I have a taste, Juliet?”
I nod, my breath sawing in and out of my lungs like I’ve run miles. The first flick of his tongue against my clit has me groaning low in my throat.
“Just like that. Don’t stop.”
His hands grip my waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. My hips are jerking upwards, closer to his mouth as he continues to play with me, the flat of his tongue licking over my pussy.
“So sweet, Juliet. I want to remember the taste of your pussy until I die.”