I shake my head sadly. “That’s just in storybooks and fairy tales. Reality is different.”
“But we could do it. Wecouldmake a life and be happy together.” His eyes are pleading, so earnest it makes my heart hurt.
“I married Rob when I was eighteen. I’ve been down that road. As much as I wouldn’t change how my life turned out, I don’t recommend settling down that young.” I gesture toward him. “Thisyoung.”
He lets out a loud breath, rising from the sofa and stalking over to the wall. His frustration is palpable as he flexes his trembling fists at his sides then presses them against the wall with barely contained rage. He lets out a roar of frustration. “I want to fucking punch something! I hate thissomuch!” His voice is shaking with helpless fury.
“Go ahead,” I say evenly. “I know a good drywall guy.”
He huffs a humorless laugh, and his anger deflates like a balloon. He lowers his head, heaving a tormented sigh. My heart clenches painfully again. As if I needed another reason to love this man. He’s so passionate but so quick to calm from anger. I have to bite my lower lip to stop it from wobbling as I reach for him.
“Come here.”
He notices my weepy eyes and rushes back to my side. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly.
“I feel lucky, you know that?” I say, trying to smile.
His expression is full of pain as his eyes scan my face. Like he’s trying to memorize me.
I tap his chest. “I got to see this heart. This huge heart you have. I’m better for having known you.”
He shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing out through his nose. “So much of what we say to each other feels like goodbye.”
I think for a moment. “You’re right. I feel that too. Like we’re just hanging by a thread and waiting for the axe to fall.”
He nods miserably, and I am gripped with an urge to fix this, to make things okay, however briefly. Our situation may be immutable overall, but that doesn’t mean we have to wallow in it.
“So let’s stop that,” I say with a sniff and a swipe across my face. “We have tonight, right? So let’s make it count. No sad faces allowed. No tears. That can all wait until morning.”
“Morning?” he asks, his eyes brightening with hope.
“Yes.” I purse my lips shyly. “If you want to spend the night.”
“More than anything.”
Chapter
Eleven
I climb slowlyonto his lap and straddle him. I’m wearing only a robe and panties, and he runs his hands up my thighs under the silky fabric to cup my bottom and pull me closer.
I press my lips to his, and it’s like trying to tell him everything in my heart through this kiss. He opens to me hungrily, both of us desperate and needy. We explore with our mouths and tongues, heat building and building inside me. I pull back and run my fingers down his cheek, loving the rough stubble. He leans into my hand, his eyes closed, and my heart melts even more. He opens his eyes then locks them on mine with a blazing black heat.
“You’re all I see when I close my eyes, Chelsea. My fantasy, my wet dream, always there. Today was fucking torture.” He squeezes my ass tighter, and I can feel his erection under me.
“You’re all I’ve been able to think about too,” I say, my voice low. “The feel of your hands on my body. I’ve been wanting you so bad, like I might die if I didn’t touch you again.”
Something low and guttural rumbles in his chest as he grabs my chin and pulls me in for another fierce kiss. His hands are on the back of my head and then in my hair as he claims mewith an almost primal intensity. That heat inside me is starting to concentrate between my legs, and I rock my hips on his lap, seeking out more sweet friction. He groans, bringing his hands to my hips and pressing me down more firmly onto the rock-hard bulge in his lap.
“Yessss,” I hiss, skimming my hands down my own body and settling them on his in encouragement. I gasp and throw my head back, basking in the growing heat. “Mmmm, that is so, so good,” I murmur, loving the feel of our centers grinding together.
He moves his hands to my robe, which he unties and opens to reveal my bare breasts. He cups one in each hand, making a deep, masculine sound of appreciation as he buries his face between them. He bites and licks his way to one nipple, making both of them pebble into firm buds and sending pleasant tingles through me. I wrap my arms around his head as he sucks and licks vigorously, and waves of arousal just keep hitting and hitting, sending molten liquid into my panties. I laugh breathily.
“I’m making a mess on your shorts.”
He growls, sweeping me swiftly up into his arms and cradling me against him as he stands. I yelp in surprise and wonder that thing I think all women must in this situation. I feel nervous and embarrassed—surely I’m too heavy to carry like this, right?
But he makes it seem easy as he brings me into my bedroom and tosses me gently on the bed. It’s a huge cherry-wood four-poster monstrosity I acquired at a garage sale years ago, and I giggle and scramble back on the large mattress to give Julian room to join me. He pulls his shirt off quickly over his head and prowls toward me on his hands and knees. A thrill runs through me, like I’m prey that’s been spotted.
