Dating Games(88)

After a silent limo ride back to Julian’s house, we head through the dimly-lit living room and toward the staircase for the last time. His hand finds mine, our fingers interlocking as we walk those final steps toward my room. When we reach the door, he drops his hold, turning to face me. Our eyes meet, neither one of us saying a single word.

I’ve been dreading this for weeks. It’s not just good night. This is goodbye. I’d insisted it be a term of our arrangement. As did Julian. A clean break.

There’s nothing clean about this.

I open my mouth, about to make one final plea for him to reconsider his position, that he can give me what he believes I deserve, but before I have a chance, his lips are on mine, stealing my words. His touch is so light, it’s akin to kissing a ghost. And tomorrow, that’s precisely what Julian Gage will be.

Desperation takes over and I wrap my arms around him, curving my body into his as I deepen the kiss. He’s more than eager to match my intensity, pressing me against the wall. He kisses me as if he needs it to breathe, as if his lips were made just for mine, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever taste me. Because it is.

He releases his hold on my face, his hands traveling down my frame, exploring, needing, wanting. When he brushes against my breast, I moan as he hardens, grinding against me. There’s so much longing, so much yearning, so much despair in this kiss, electrifying and satisfying me in a way I fear no one else will ever be able to do. Pulling him closer, I claw at his back, drawing everything out of him I possibly can. And I give him everything I have. My devotion. My respect. My love. I don’t need to tell him exactly how I feel. I show it in the way I worship him, hold him, cherish him.

He moves his lips from mine, kissing a hot trail along my jawline, his hands teasing and torturing as he tries to imprint everything about me to his memory. I throw back my head, savoring in the warmth of his mouth on my skin as he nibbles on my neck. Our heavy breathing fills the hallway, my heart racing. Regardless of what tomorrow may bring, I know one thing… I need this man. His kisses. His touch. His soul.

My fingers thread into his thick hair, tugging as his mouth journeys along my collarbone, his hand squeezing my breast. With my body pressed against the wall, I hook a leg around his waist, gently thrusting against him, urging him to continue, telling him I’m ready for whatever he’s willing to give.

Eventually, his lips find mine again. At first, the kiss is impassioned and animalistic, but transitions into something…different. It’s full of pain and heartache as his tongue sweeps against mine, slow and measured.

When he pulls back, he stares at me with a haunted look, as if on the verge of telling me something but can’t seem to form the words. It reminds me of the same tortured expression in his eyes my first night in this house.

And just like that night, instead of saying a single word, he drops his hold on me and retreats with quick steps, disappearing into his room before I have a chance to whisper “goodbye”.





Chapter Thirty-Two





I stare at the bright moon over the ocean as I lay awake in bed, sleep evading me. Since my first night here, I’ve slept well, the room designed to emphasize maximum comfort and relaxation. Tonight, nothing can get my brain to shut off, not when I wonder if I blew it with Julian. What if I’d made one final plea for him to reconsider? Would it have changed anything?

I’ll never know.

Feeling like the walls of this luxurious bedroom are suffocating me, I throw the covers off and my feet find the cool floor. I grab my silk kimono robe off the bed post and toss it over my tank top and sleep shorts, securing it around my waist. When I open the French doors and step onto the balcony, I inhale a long breath. The ocean breeze kisses my skin as I walk toward the ledge, leaning my arms on it. It’s so tranquil and serene, the sound of the waves soothing the fire and indecision within.

As I smooth a few tendrils of hair behind my ear, I spy a figure standing at the end of the deck, staring at me. My breath hitches and body shoots upright. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, find mine. It’s clear Julian hasn’t been able to sleep, either.

He pushes himself away from the ledge, walking toward me with slow steps, a heat in his gaze. Hungry. Ravenous. Desperate. I straighten my spine, facing him, the tension between us mounting with every inch he erases. When he’s a breath away, he stops, his expression wrought with turmoil. It’s reminiscent of the indecision covering his face earlier tonight when he left me in the hallway. I worry the same thing will happen, that he’ll retreat instead of push forward. I can’t let that happen.

Without saying a word, I reach for the sash of my robe, pulling at it, allowing the material to fall to my feet. A chill washes over me as the breeze wraps around my exposed skin, but the raw need covering Julian’s expression chases it away, empowering me. Finding the hem of my tank, I pull it over my head, leaving me in just my shorts.

He sucks in a breath, his eyes breaking from mine as they rake over my chest. This is a bold and rash move, especially for me. I’ve never had to put it all on the line and risk rejection. But this is the eleventh hour. There’s no tomorrow, not if I don’t take a leap.

When he returns his gaze to mine, there’s something unfamiliar in it. It’s more than lust or desire. He’s not ready for me to walk out of his life any more than I am. But is that enough for him to ask me to stay? Or will the demons that still haunt him return, forcing him to withdraw back into himself?