“Never done what?” I’m genuinely confused.
“Dated.” He says it with a laugh in his voice.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You and Taya . . .”
“Never went on one date,” he finishes for me.
“Hmm. Is it okay if that makes me ridiculously happy?”
His baritone chuckle makes my whole face smile. “Yeah, sassy girl, it’s okay. In fact, I kinda like it.”
“Yeah?” I ask this boldly, feeling more like myself than I have in days.
“Oh yeah.” There is no mistaking the desire behind his words, but he confirms it with his next words. “Can I kiss you? Or hug you?”
“Do I have to choose?” I smirk, even more confident now.
Without warning, he tugs my hand, pulling me onto his lap. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to how strong he is. But once the momentum of his pull lifts me off the chair, his other arm snakes around and under me and settles me quite impressively in his lap. Sitting sideways with my knees curled into him, I press my lips to his neck and inhale deeply. Like a drug, his scent soothes my senses.
I move my hand up his chest, across the soft fabric of his snug-fitting T-shirt and feel his slight wince. I pull back to look at him, but he just takes that hand and presses my palm to his lips. “Are you hurt?” My brows crease, making a line between my eyes.
Shaking his head, he murmurs, “Uh-uh.” He releases my hands to frame my cheeks and bring my face to his. Velvet-soft lips brush mine, once, twice. The third time he touches them to mine, I tilt my head enough to fuse our lips completely. We open our mouths perfectly in sync, our tongues tasting, exploring, until I’m twisting and straddling him, deepening the kiss even more. Within moments we’re both panting. His fingers are tangled in my hair; my hands clench the back of his neck.
He ends the kiss the way he started it—soft, velvet kisses—but his breathing is labored, like mine. Pressing his forehead to mine, he works to catch his breath. “Are we breaking the . . . is this okay?”
“I sure fucking hope so.” I smile, still catching my breath.
“I love you, sassy girl.”
“I can tell.” I squirm a little on his lap, feeling every inch of just how much he loves me.
His hands grip my hips, halting my movements. “I’m going to need to know how this works. I want to . . . I want this—us—to be what you need it to be.” He’s saying this against my lips, his forehead pressed to mine. When I don’t immediately respond, he adds, “Just tell me what you want, Ever. I love you. I always will. Nothing will ever change that. But I also want to love you how you need to be loved.”
Because I’m sitting on him and he’s wearing thin joggers and he’s not a small guy, I feel every bit of his restraint. But his body can’t lie. His bulge twitches against my center, sending a shock to the nerves there. And while I resist the urge to press into him, I find the courage to speak plainly.
On a long exhale, I say, “I want to live here alone, if you’ll let me . . . rent it?” I don’t wait for an answer and continue before I lose my nerve to be frank. “I want to roll it back a little from living together and act more like a new couple. I don’t want to not have sex because . . . well, I like it and that seems like unnecessary torture. I just want a chance to become a whole person in my own right, separate from us. Know who I am beyond the couple. So if you’re willing . . . can we date but still . . . have sleepovers sometimes?” I shrug afterwards and hold my breath, eyes down, forehead still on his.
Pulling his head back from mine, he engulfs my cheeks in his hands and waits until I bring my eyes back to his. The solar lights around the deck kick on in the growing darkness and illuminate his features. “Of course.” He places a swift kiss on my lips. “I’m in awe of you, Everly Tate Davis. Are you sure you’re not a reincarnated thirty-year-old?”
“What did I tell you about referencing women’s ages?” I mock-scold him, hoping we’re done with the serious portion ofthe program. If he heard that thought, he’d retract his compliance—which makes me giggle to myself again.
Holding up his hands in surrender, he answers, “My bad.”
“Wanna go eat? I’m sure it’s cold by now, but it reheats well.” I nuzzle my lips into the space just below his ear. He smells so good and tastes even better.
Julian leans into my lips, and I feel the rumble of his reply in his chest. “M-hm.” He stands fluidly with me in his arms. When gravity wants to pull my feet to the deck, I wrap my legs around his waist. His arms engulf me so completely our bodies fuse into one.
As he makes his way inside, I tuck my nose behind his ear, planting little kisses there. Once inside, I unwrap my legs and plant my feet on the floor.
Before he lets me go, he kisses me fully and unhurriedly. When he does end the kiss and step back, his eyes look almost black in the muted light of the living room.
I know that hungry look. Instinctively I lick my lips.
His eyes track the movement of my tongue. “You said it reheats well, right?”
