The tattoo covering his arm and shoulder ripples as he walks. Music notes cascade down dark skin, piano keys wrapping around his bicep.
He's all contrast. Dark and mysterious, eyes black as coal. Yet so gentle. So sensitive.
The opposite of Daniel.
He returns, in orange boxers, with clothes for me—sweat shorts and a faded Ramones t-shirt.
"Turn around," I say.
"Seriously?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Yes, seriously."
"I've literally just seen you naked."
"Julian."
He grins but turns, facing the wall like a kid in timeout.
I scramble into his clothes. The shirt swallows me, sleeves past my elbows. The shorts hang low on my hips.
"Okay."
He turns, takes one look, and bursts out laughing.
"What?"
"You look like a kid playing dress-up."
"Shut up." I throw a cushion at him.
He catches it, still grinning. "You hungry?"
My stomach answers before I can.
Minutes later, I'm devouring a roast beef sandwich at his small kitchen table, mayo dripping down my chin. He watches me with amusement.
"What?" I mumble through a mouthful.
"Nothing." His smile softens. "Just... glad you're here."
I swallow hard. Set down the sandwich.
"Me too."
And I mean it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sandwiches are long gone when he leads me to his bedroom. I stop in the doorway.
"Whoa."
The bed dominates the space—a massive four-post dark walnut frame that looks like it belongs in a period drama.
"My grandmother's," he says, almost apologetic.
"It's beautiful."
