The honesty in her voice and the way she was looking at me like she’d let me do anything to her right here in the middle of this storm made my cock pulse with each rapid beat of mypulse. I could already imagine peeling those wet clothes off her, spreading her out on my bed, and finally sinking into her after years of torturing myself with thoughts of her.
I wanted it so badly my hands were shaking, but I forced myself to take one step back, even though it felt like tearing my own skin off. “We can’t,” I said, the words physically painful to get out. “Not like this. Not when I’m supposed to be the one protecting you from men like me.”
She looked hurt for a second, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she reached up and gently touched my chest, right over my racing heart. “I don’t need you to protect me from this. I just need you to stop fighting it.”
For one long, dangerous moment, I almost gave in, almost grabbed her and carried her to my bed before finally taking what we both clearly wanted.
Instead, I closed my eyes and forced out the hardest words I’d ever said.
“You should go back to the house, Juliet.”
She stayed rooted in place for several more seconds, breathing hard, the tension so thick it felt like the storm outside had moved into the room with us. Then she finally listened, hurt and frustration clear on her face.
She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the knob, and looked over her shoulder at me one last time. “This isn’t over,” she said with conviction. “We both know it.”
Then she slipped back out into the pouring rain, leaving me standing there aching, hard as steel, and more fucked up than I’d ever been in my life. I dragged a hand down my face, my body screaming for her.
She was right. This wasn’t over.
And I was terrified of what would happen when I finally stopped fighting.
7
JULIET
A FEW DAYS LATER
Icouldn’t think about anything except Bastian anymore. He had completely taken over my mind.
I’d catch myself staring at his hands while he worked on the boat, remembering how they felt on my skin. I’d lie awake at night replaying the way he’d kissed me in the storm, the way his body had felt pressed against mine.
The tension between us had grown so thick it was becoming impossible to hide. We were both walking around like we were afraid to even breathe the same air, but the pull kept building stronger.
The breaking point came on a quiet Wednesday night. My parents had gone into town for dinner and a movie, leaving the lake house empty. I was restless and couldn’t sit still, so I wandered over to Bastian’s place under the weak excuse of borrowing a toolbox. I knew he would see right through that lie, but I didn’t care.
The truth was simpler. I needed to see him. I needed to stop dancing around whatever this was between us. And I needed him to see that fighting it was fruitless.
He opened the door looking exhausted, wearing an old black T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was messy, like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. The second he saw me, his whole body tensed.
“Juliet,” he said, his voice low and strained.
Before he could tell me to leave again, I stepped inside, crowding him at the door, just a spare few inches separating us. Bastian didn’t move. Instead, he watched me with those dark, conflicted eyes.
“I’m done waiting for you to admit it,” I whispered. “I want you, Bastian. And I know you feel the same way. Stop fighting it. Stop fighting us.”
He stood completely still for several long moments, his breathing heavier, quicker. Then the last thread of his control finally snapped.
“God forgive me,” he muttered.
For a second, he didn’t move. Something flashed across his face. Hesitation or maybe guilt, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and knew exactly what would happen if he stepped off.
I saw the battle happening behind his eyes.
Bastian had spent all this time pulling away from me. And every time things got too close, he ran. Every time I reached for him, he found a reason to put distance between us.
Because he thought he was protecting me.
Even now with his body close to mine and his breathing ragged, part of him was still trying to be the man who wrapped his jacket around my shoulders during thunderstorms and made sure I got home safe.
