After Jules figures out what she wants our bedroom to look like, I’m going to do this with her a million ways. I’m going to make a different bed with the evidence of how much I want her, and how I worship her body, her breath, the noises she makes when I press the pad of my thumb to the most sensitive parts of her.
But for now, I spend my time on her, lowering my mouth between her legs, tasting her, and loosening her for me. When she comes against me, her thighs on either side of my face and her fingers looped tightly in my hair, I can’t stop myself from humming against her.
She tugs me up and I take her mouth with mine, her taste still lingering on my tongue.
When I slip inside her, it feels like coming home. She digs her heels into me, pushing me deeper, begging for more, and I have an idea.
“What—what are you doing?” she asks, when I draw back, cock hardening even more at the thought of what I’ve wanted to do for five years now.
“Keep your legs tight around me,” I command, and she does what I ask. With her wrapped around me, and this fuckingimpossible dress bunched up around her hips, I carry her over to a clear wall and press her up against it.
Her eyes go wide, and she starts to laugh, “Russell?—”
The laugh dies in her throat when I grab her the way I wanted to, all those years ago, holding her up with both legs in the air, nothing between her and me, an erotic and filthy position that’s been stuck in my head since I first found her on that balcony. When my cock edges into her, I find her warm, wet, and wanting, and can taste her desire at the base of my throat.
“I’ve wanted this for five years,” I growl, leaning down and speaking the words against her ear as she gasps against me. This is it—this is the deepest I’ve ever been inside her, and I’m obsessed with the way I have her trapped against the wall, her head tipping back, her eyes shutting in ecstasy.
“Say my name,” I growl, and she does, gasping it, calling it out as loud as she wants as I thrust up and into her. Roughly, I reach up and pull her dress down, so her chest spills out, tits bouncing with each movement of my hips. The sight of it sends me over the fucking edge, my cock pulsing once before I release inside her, hot, sticky, andright.
It’s everything. I’ll never stop wanting this, never stop wanting her.
“Well, shit,” she breathes, having gone boneless in my hold, her head lolling forward. “We should have donethata long time ago.”
I laugh, then lower her down, unable to keep my eyes off her chest.
“Come on,” I growl, cock already stiffening again. Maybe the day will come that Jules doesn’t make me crazy like this, but I can’t even imagine it. “I’ve got a few more I’d like to try tonight.”
She laughs as I gather the dress in my hands and strip it off over her head, leaving her gloriously bare. I scoop her intomy arms and carry her over to the bed, heart thudding, body readying for another round.
“If I didn’t know better,” she breathes, when I lay her down, getting my mouth on her tits. “I might wonder if you’d been planning this for a while, doctor.”
“Oh,” I mutter, looking up at her, both satiated and wanting at once, body wild with the thought of the rest of my life with this gorgeous, bewildering, brilliant, fucking insanely, sexy woman. “You haveno idea.”
Epilogue
Jules
“Mommy!”
I jolt, the sound of Gus’s voice startling me away from the mirror, where I’ve been holding my own gaze for the past five minutes.
“Woah, hold still, girl—” Sienna says, her hand still in my hair, but Gus is insistent, and I pull away from her, dodging the curling iron. Burning myself would not be fun.
“Mommy, mommy!” Gus calls, and I rush across the room, turning into the bathroom to find him standing in front of the sink, his face pale and focused on his own reflection.
“What is it?” I ask breathlessly, pushing the side of my hair that’s still limp and uncurled away from my face.
Gus turns, and if I weren’t so worried about his cries for me, I might take a moment to think about how charming he looks in his little suit.
But I’m not thinking about that, because his expression is all panic.
“It’s ruined,” he says, and I can tell he’s on the brink of tears.
“What’s ruined, baby?” I ask, pushing carefully forward into the bathroom, hoping the dress doesn’t snag on anything. “Are you feeling okay? Is it your chest?”
“No,” he says, like the problem being his heart is a ridiculous idea. Like, after two years, he can hardly even remember that he had major heart surgery. Well, not major according to Orie and Russ, but any heart surgery feels major to me.
But Gus isn’t a sick kid anymore—he’s just played one ontwomedical dramas now. Right after we get back from our honeymoon, he’s booked another appearance on a popular teen romance about kids at a lake.
