Yes.
“You’ve made it easy for me to start something with you from day one,” Juliet pointed out, running her eyes over Darcy’s face, wanting to see every micro-expression when she murmured, “Because you’re so… reactive.”
Yeah, the way Darcy’s eyes flashed at her – like she knew she was being called out but she fucking liked it – really landed inside of Juliet, making her stomach dip low, heat coiling already.
“And you aren’t?” Darcy was so close to her now, her hot breath washing over Juliet’s lips as she spoke.
She shivered at the feeling, tilting her head back, lightheaded with the rush of blood thrumming through her. “Proving my point.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, her breath coming faster, worked up. Juliet felt it, the same feeling pulsing through her, like they were feeding off of one another.
She kept her touch light as she reached up, tracing her fingertips over the soft skin of Darcy’s collarbone that was exposed by the halter top of her jumpsuit. It was the first time she was touching Darcy –reallytouching her – and Juliet swore she could feel herself buzzing to life.
Her fingertips even felt different.
And then she saw the way Darcy shivered, the little goosebumps that rose on her arms. Heady satisfaction slid through her at the visual evidence that Darcy was just as affected as she was, even if she was determined to keeptalking.
She’d intended for it to be a simple touch. But now that she’d made contact, she didn’t want to stop. So she skimmed her fingertips back up, tracing the soft line of the fabric up Darcy’s neck, as she asked, “Are you going to be as reactive to me, like this?”
She could see that Darcy would. The way she shuddered, the way her eyes fluttered like they wanted to close at her teasing touch. The power of that knowledge rushed through her.
Still, Darcy dug her teeth into her bottom lip, not answering her.
Juliet narrowed her eyes; that wasn’t how this was going to be. “You’ve listened to everything I’ve ever said. Are you going to listen just as well now? When we’re like this?”
Darcy’s breathing was a little thready, a little uneven, as she murmured, “Depends.”
Juliet moved her fingers up, pressing into Darcy’s pulse point. Not too hard, but firm enough to know Darcyfelt her, enough to feel how Darcy’s heart rate had skyrocketed. “Depends on what?”
“On what you want me to do,” Darcy murmured back, swaying even closer. So fucking close, they were almost kissing.
Almost.
“So, if I’m good to you, you’re going to be good for me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as she tipped her head back. The movement brought her lipsso closeto Darcy’s, but didn’t connect, even as everything inside of her was screaming for it.
“Yeah,” Darcy was barely audible. “That’s how it works.”
Maybe it was just because of how fucking high the tension was in this moment, but Juliet would testify that she’d never in her life felt so high strung with anticipation. Maybe it was just this moment, but she couldn’t ever recall wanting someone so badly. She squeezed her thighs together, unsure if she was hoping to feel some sort of relief or hoping to ratchet up her pulsing need even more.
Most likely both.
They were so close, breathing the same air, and something inside of her snapped.
“I told you last time, Darcy,” she stated, her voice firm, if a little strained. Their lips brushed against one another’s when she spoke, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. “If you want to kiss me, thendo it,” she ordered, all of her nerve-endings on high alert.
God, she wanted it.
She wanted Darcy Kincaid’s kiss like she wanted her next breath. Possibly, at this point, even more.
But what she wanted themostwas for Darcy to give in and give them what they both wanted. Juliet had set the scene for her. She’d opened the door. And the only thing she wanted more than taking physical control over the situation was for Darcy to listen to her. For Darcy to be the one to take the final step.
A groan escaped from Darcy’s lips before she even pressed them to Juliet’s, lingering as she finally kissed her.
Juliet swallowed it greedily.
Fucking finally. It shouldn’t feel likefinally, she knew that somewhere in the logical part of her mind. She’d only known about Darcy’s sexuality, known that this could be a possibility, for a couple of weeks. But she felt keyed up, like she’d been needing this for far longer.
Those full, plush lips against her own. Lips she’d watched nearing obsessively in interviews and performances, the way they were shaped when Darcy spoke, against her own.
