My sweet, suffering Julian.
With my heart lurching in my chest, I reach forward and place a hand on his cheek affectionately.
“Julian, those are all risks we take every day, but it doesn’t mean it always happens. Sometimes when you let people in, you just fall in love.”
“Yeah, but what if they leave?” he argues with pain in his furrowed brows.
“Why would they leave?”
“I don’t know. Because I didn’t do enough to earn their love. Because I’m nothing but a spoiled rich boy like everyone seems to think I am. Because I didn’t measure up to everything they thought I would be or because they found someone better or worse. Because they die because they’re just so fucking old.”
My brows knit together in confusion. “Old?”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, looking down. “I just worry…what if I get too close? If I am the one who leaves first, then I’m safe, right? I’m protected.”
My mouth hangs open as I stare at him, the tender softness in his eyes making my heart pound with aching. Julian has spent his whole life keeping people away in order to protect himself. He has a loving family. He has amazing parents. He grew up in a good home.
If my suspicion is true, then his anxiety disorder has planted the seeds of this bitterness in his heart. What is he doing to help himself?
“Do you feel that way about us?” I ask.
His head flips up, and he stares into my eyes, warm blue inviting me in. It takes everything in me not to reach out, kiss him, and pull him close, but right now I just want him to talk. I don’t want this conversation to be derailed by kisses.
“No, I don’t,” he replies with conviction. “I think the thing that keeps throwing me off is that I don’t feel that way about you and Archer.”
“Maybe because you know that we won’t just leave you, that we like you for you.”
“I don’t know, maybe,” he says with uncertainty. “I’m not good at this stuff. I suck at relationships. I’ve never really even been in one. I like to be alone, but when I’m with you guys, it just feels like I’malone with you.”
This time, I let my fingers do what they want, crawling up his arm, touching his neck, and pulling him closer. “That’s because you’re comfortable with us. We’re comfortable with each other,” I say. His full, pink lips invite me, and I press mine to his just to savor his kiss. He smiles against my mouth, winding his arms around my waist. The towel comes undone, and I don’t bother to fix it.
For a moment, I feel a bit self-conscious that my breasts are now exposed.
“Freya,” he says, pleading as he glances down at the space between us.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Can you please come here?” He replies on a sigh. “I’m dying.”
A giggle escapes my lips. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re bashful.”
“For fuck’s sake. Just come here.” He groans, grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his lap. The towel falls away so my naked front is pressed against his clothes. His hands slide up my spine, digging into my messy bun as he pulls my face toward his. As our lips unite, he tugs me closer.
At the feel of his erection digging into me, my core moistens with arousal. I might very well make a mess of his jeans.
I bury my fingers in his hair, messing up the perfection of it. Julian comes off as all sharp angles and cruel edges, but he’s really soft and warm and pliable. His kisses are like honey, sweet and slow.
As my lips trail away from his mouth and down his jaw, my eyes catch on something purple peeking out from under his white T-shirt.
“Oh my God,” I shriek. “What is that?” Tearing down the neck of his shirt, I find a large blue and purple bite mark at the crevice between his shoulder and his neck. It looks fresh and painful.
He instantly clears his throat, touching his fingers to the spot. “That would be Archer,” he says before releasing the collar of his shirt from my fingers.
“He did that to you?” I ask.
“Well, I told him to,” he replies with a devilish smirk.
“Is this what you two did last night?”
