15
CONSTANTINE
I leaninto Julius’s chest as he carries me up the narrow staircase, each step sending a small shiver of anticipation through me. The soft glow from the light in the entrance hall catches the determined set of his jaw, the subtle curve of his smile. My T-shirt rides up slightly where his hands grip my waist, and that small point of skin-to-skin contact sends electricity racing through my nerves.
“I’ve made a decision,” I say, kissing a trail up his neck.
“Oh yeah?”
“The only way to travel from now on is in your strong and capable arms,” I tease, letting my voice carry just loud enough to make him chuckle.
“I’m up for that, baby, but the customers at the coffee shop might have something to say about it.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know. Mrs. Stevens seems to have a thing for your arms. I caught her ogling you the other day.”
“You did not!”
I’m about to tell him how I almost wanted to give the seventysomething-year-old woman a piece of my jealous mind, but we reach the landing, and the bedroom door stands open,inviting us into our private sanctuary. It feels like a million years since this morning. I fucking hate misunderstandings. Now, back in Julius’s arms, the air feels thick with possibility. Julius pauses in the doorway, adjusting his grip on me.
“Six hours,” he murmurs against my ear. “Think of all we can accomplish in six hours.”
“Mmm, I have some ideas,” I reply, trailing my fingers along his collarbone. The muscle in his jaw tightens—he’s trying to maintain control, but I can feel the slight tremor in his arms.
He carries me to the bed with careful steps, laying me down as if I’m something precious. The mattress dips beneath my weight, and before I can reach for him, Julius sinks to his knees beside the bed. His hands find my thighs, thumbs tracing small circles through my jeans.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice makes my chest ache.
“I’m not going to complain about that.”
His fingers work at my belt, then my zipper, each movement deliberate and unhurried. I lift my hips to help him slide the denim down, and then I’m exposed to the cool air and his heated gaze. Julius takes me in his mouth with practiced skill, and my head falls back against the pillows.
The wet heat of his mouth sends waves of pleasure coursing through me. I thread my fingers through his hair, not guiding, just connecting. His tongue traces patterns on my cock that make my toes curl and soft sounds of pleasure escape my throat without my permission.
My boyfriend knows exactly how to read my body—when to slow down, when to increase pressure. My thighs begin to tremble, and he steadies them with his strong hands. The dual sensation of his mouth and his firm grip threatens to overwhelm me. I feel myself climbing toward that peak, muscles tensing, breath coming in sharp gasps.
When release finally claims me, it’s like being caught in a wave—powerful yet gentle, carrying me up and away. Julius works me through it with careful attention, only pulling back when the sensations become too much. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh, then moves up to capture my mouth with his. I can taste myself on his tongue, and the intimacy of it makes me shiver.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs against my lips. “So open, so trusting.”
I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. “I trust you,” I whisper back, and I mean it. Julius makes me feel safe enough to be vulnerable, to let go completely. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
“I’m sad for past Connie, but I can promisemyConstantine that you can always trust me.”
He settles beside me on the bed, one hand tracing lazy patterns on my chest. I turn my head to study his profile—the strong line of his nose, the slight curl of his lashes against his cheeks when he blinks.
This man has become my anchor in Stillwater, I realize. Not just my lover or employer but something deeper, something that feels increasingly like home. The thought should frighten me, but instead, it fills me with a warm certainty. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.
My breath hasn’t fully steadied when Julius reaches toward the bedside table. The lamp casts his movement in warm gold as he retrieves the bottle of lube, and I watch the play of muscles under his skin. My body still tingles from the orgasm, but my cock stirs again at the sight of his focused expression.
“You know,” he says. “The moment you walked into my kitchen, I knew you would change my life.”
My heart does a little flip.
“You did?”
“There was something about you. The quiet confidence, the way you saved the day, the way you looked at me like I was your lifeline?—”
“You were my lifeline, Julius.”
