“No promises on that one,” Roman muttered, heading for the door. He paused at the threshold and looked back at me. “What you did just now… that took real guts. Cal would be proud.”
The words hit me harder than they should have, and I had to look away as my throat tightened. “Thanks,” I managed to choke out.
When the door closed behind him, the room suddenly felt too quiet. Too still. The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright during the phone calls was starting to crash, replaced by something raw and volatile that made my hands shake.
Julian moved over to me. “How are you feeling?” he asked, voice gruff with concern. “Those phone calls couldn’t have been easy. Especially the one with Cherry.”
I rose to my feet, pacing to the window and back, unable to stand still. My jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Honestly… I thought I would be sad, but right now, I'm just angry,” I said, the words coming out harsh and clipped. “So fuckingangry. At her, at everything, at—” I broke off, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes. “I just… I want to scream my head off. I want to hit someone or smash something. I want...”
My voice cracked, and I spun away from Julian again, chest heaving. The fury was so intense it felt like it was burning me from the inside out. Cherry's voice kept echoing in my head. That fake sympathy, that pretend grief, the excitement when she thought she might finally have a chance to make Roman go down for whatshedid.
“She sounded sohappy,” I spat, whirling back to face Julian. “So thrilled at the idea of the wrong guy going to prison, just soshe can finally rest easy. And she has the audacity to tell people thathe’sa psychopath!”
Before Julian could respond, I grabbed a decorative pillow from the settee and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a pathetically soft thump that did nothing to ease the rage burning through me.
“Fuck!”
The word tore out of me, and I grabbed another pillow, throwing it harder. Then I started reaching for absolutely anything—a book from the side table, a rolled-up throw blanket—hurling them uselessly while Julian watched, making no move to stop me.
When I ran out of things to throw, I stood there shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps. “I can't… I can't just go to sleep and wait until tomorrow night,” I said in a low voice. “I can't. I need to do something.”
Julian closed the distance between us slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal that might bolt. “You can punch me if you want,” he said, his tone almost gentle. He spread his hands. “I can take it.”
I shook my head. “I don't want to hit you, Julian.”
“Then what do you want?”
The question hung in the air between us, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about Cherry anymore. Wasn't thinking about tomorrow night or confessions or justice. I was just looking at Julian. At the way he was watching me like I was the only thing that mattered, at the careful restraint in his posture even though I could see the tension coiled in every line of his body.
“I… I don’t know,” I murmured, even though I knew perfectly well.
He moved closer, sliding his arms around my waist, and I didn't pull away. His warmth seeped into me, steadying me when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
“Well,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “I know another way you can burn off all that angry energy.”
My breath hitched. I should say no. Should put distance between us. Should do anything except what I was about to do. But I was so damn tired ofshould. So tired of being careful and controlled and thinking three steps ahead.
“Show me,” I whispered.
Julian answered by taking control again, turning me so my back met the wall beside us as his body followed, solid and unyielding. His grip tightened just enough to make my pulse race, holding me there while his mouth claimed mine, slow and deliberate this time, like he was savoring the split second before everything tipped over the edge like it always did when it came to the two of us. The tension coiled tight, sharp and unavoidable, until my body arched instinctively toward him, silently begging for more.
I writhed under his hands, and he let go of my wrists, freeing me to touch him however I wanted. Hunger coursed through my veins as I fumbled with his waistband, fingers diving into his pants with single-minded focus. Fuck foreplay. I needed him buried inside me right fuckingnow.
When I freed his erection from his pants, it jutted out, swollen and veined, practically demanding attention. I wrapped a hand around his length while he yanked my jeans down past my hips. I kicked them off impatiently, stroking him firmly as desperation built between us, and he grabbed my ass and hoisted me up, my thighs locking around his waist.
"Fuck, Violet. I need you now," he growled.
"Please," I gasped, gripping him tighter and positioning him at my entrance. He shifted his hold, angling himself perfectly, and the instant I let go, he drove forward, burying himself completely in one powerful stroke.
A sharp cry tore from my throat as my arms flew around his neck. He withdrew and plunged in again, sending tremors through my entire body. The rough sounds escaping him made it obvious he was just as desperate as I was.
His pace was relentless and punishing, each thrust pushing me closer to the brink. My fingernails carved into his shoulders, and when he rasped my name, teetering on the edge himself, satisfaction curved my lips into a devious smile.
“Wait. Just a little slower,” I panted. “I want that right now.”
He groaned in frustration. Still, he played along, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with agonizing precision, filling me gradually until we were both half-mad with it. "Violet," he ground out through clenched teeth as he pulled back once more.
My vision blurred, and as he thrust forward again, pressure coiled tighter inside me, ready to snap. “Don't stop," I breathed, deliberately tightening around him.
