He hooked a finger into the waistband of her flannel pants, giving them a gentle tug. They dropped to the ground, and she carefully stepped out of them, fully aware of the hunger flashing in Brock’s gaze as he slowly devoured her. Juliette edged backward until she bumped into the bed, then lowered herself onto the plush mattress. She situated herself on the fluffy comforter, moving her mess of hair across his pillows. She tried to settle, to remember to breathe, but Brock kept watching her, even as he unzipped his jeans, and it was impossible not to steal a peek the second he kicked them off.
Brock removed his snug boxers next, and Juliette caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
They’d had sex before, in fact, Brock was her first, but while he looked the same, everything was different. He was more cut, more defined. There were new scars mixed with old memories. Years of hardened, lean muscle lent him a tempting kind of appeal. A dusting of auburn hair feathered across his chest, trailing down to his navel. His abdomen was chiseled, carved from granite. Solid and strong. She thought he was impressive before, but now she swore he was larger than she remembered. He stood before her, jaw tensed and cock straining, and her legs involuntarily fell open wider in invitation. Muscled arms caged her in as he stretched out above her, and when he nestled himself between her thighs, the tip of him pressing against herslick core, Juliette almost came undone. Her hands coasted up his shoulders, and she wound her arms loosely around his neck, urging him closer.
“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away.
“What is it?” she asked, panic slicing through her. What if he changed his mind? What if he thought having sex with her was a mistake? She would never survive the humiliation, the absolute despair of knowing he’d rejected her.
“Condom.” Brock glanced over his shoulder to where his jeans were strewn across the floor. “Might have one in my wallet. I don’t know, it’s been a while.”
“It’s okay.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, drawing him back to her. “I’m on the pill. It’s fine.”
A line of concern furrowed across his brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She nodded, shifting and lifting her hips. “Completely sure.”
“Okay.”
He absently smoothed her hair from her face, and she lost herself in the green of his eyes. They reminded her of an enchanted forest, one she could wander through aimlessly for hours, until she lost herself. He blinked and the world came back into focus. She didn’t look away as he slid inside her. Instead they held one another captive as each agonizingly slow thrust sent spirals of pleasure curling through her. It was as though they were locked in a silent dare, a challenge to see who would look away first, who would be the one to break the spell. The one to make it real.
Brock’s face was so close to her own he swallowed each of her gasps. Her nails scraped at the back of his neck as she moved with him, rising to meet him, while each delicious wave pushed her closer to the edge, a dangerous slope of no return. His lips brushed hers. Once. Twice. His tongue glided along the seam of her mouth. But he didn’t close his eyes, and neither did she, andwhen they kissed, their eyes stayed open. Wide and searching. Asking questions that couldn’t be answered.
Calloused hands roughed up the back of her thighs as he pushed her knees up, draping her legs over his broad shoulders, changing their position. Deepening the angle.
“Brock.” His name was a breathy rasp, and she clutched at the comforter beneath her, nails digging into the soft fabric.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you, Jules.” His pace quickened, hips jerking forward as he slammed into her, forcing her to chase that lusty high. “I’ve dreamt of you foryears.”
Juliette wanted to say something, to beg him not to stop, to admit she wanted him more than anything. But all she could focus on was the way he kept driving deeper, filling her fully as she crested toward that pulsing pinnacle of relief. And when he brushed his thumb across her cheek, then kissed her soundly on her mouth, she came undone.
The gesture was simple but achingly familiar. It was the same thing he did every time they made love as teenagers, the same gentle touch. Same sweet kiss.
It broke her.
Gasping, she clutched at him, heart racing as he surged into her one final time, emptying himself completely.
Her name was on his lips like a reverent prayer, over and over.
Juliette’s heart was torn, spliced in half by memories of the past and moments of the present. Brock had left her once without saying goodbye. He’d simply gone off and vanished, as though they hadn’t been young and recklessly in love, as though they hadn’t planned their entire life together. She couldn’t risk losing her heart to him again. But she ached with the need to be enough, to feel wanted, even desired. And Brock could give herthat. However fleeting, however temporary, he could make her feel those things, if only briefly.
It wasn’t love.
It couldn’t be love.
But when he pulled her into him afterwards and fell asleep with his arm draped around her waist, Juliette didn’t move away.
CHAPTER 20
Brock didn’t want to open his eyes. The longer he kept them closed, the longer he could pretend to sleep, and maybe Juliette wouldn’t leave.
He cracked one eye open. The soft glow of dawn filtered through his curtains, drenching the room in cool, wintry hues. Either it was overcast this morning, or the sun had not yet reached the horizon.
Juliette’s warm body was curled up against him. Waves of brown hair splayed over the pillow and tickled his chin. Her breathing was slow and even, and her lashes cast little shadows along the tops of her cheeks. She had both hands tucked under her chin, and he couldn’t help but notice the lids of her eyes were swollen and slightly pink, likely from all the crying the night before.
Carefully, so he didn’t wake her, he brushed a few strands of hair back from her face. A deep, contented sigh escaped her, and she snuggled in closer.
It was almost too much, too unbearable, but Brock couldn’t help but remember. They’d been madly in love as teenagers and had spent countless nights lying on the beach long after the sun went down, counting the stars and making impossiblewishes. They shared their dreams with each other, confessed their fears, then sprinted toward the moonlit ocean on a rush of adrenaline and hormones. Together they would skinny dip and swim, at least until Juliette inevitably got freaked out about not being able to see what was touching her ankles. Usually it was seaweed, but Brock would scoop her up anyway and carry her back to shore.
