Page 44 of Not Mine To Love

“You’re quiet over there. What are you thinking about?”

I stood again. “That I shouldn’t be here.”

He uncrossed his arms and spread them over the back of the chair. I bit my lip, trying to not think of how inviting he appeared.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t be.” His voice was cold. My time was up, and he was done listening to me.

I felt myself tearing up. Embarrassed, I attempted to turn away from him. But he was quicker than I was. He was suddenly standing there next to me pulling at my hand.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Something about the way he asked, the gentle tone of his voice, struck a chord and then to my utter disbelief and humiliation, I began to cry.

He didn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms, and I didn’t hesitate to let him. I cried against his chest, not knowing why I was so upset. It was just a job, right? He was just the job. Then why was I crying; not because I knew I would lose out on the money, but because I knew I would never see him again.

I had fallen in love, it appeared. I’d fallen for the man I had gotten to know. And it tore me apart that I wouldn’t get to know him better. This was it. This was the last moment I would have with him and even that moment was stolen.

As I pondered that, I felt his hands gently stroking my back. It felt warm, reassuring, and I wanted to stay in his embrace forever.

The tears ceased and I just stayed there, motionless, feeling beneath my cheek the rhythm of his breath, enjoying being close to the steady thump of his heart. He was so warm, and I wanted nothing else but to stay like that forever. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been held. Tom, my ex-husband, wasn't the affectionate type. Occasionally, he would hold my hand, unless he was trying to show off in front of someone, and then he would hug me, his trophy wife.

A tear slid from my eye again as I felt Julius reaching for my chin. I tried to tuck my chin down, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Look at me,” he said softly. I did as I was told, not knowing if I was ready to see what I would find there.

“This tear isn’t for me, is it?” His finger trailed down my cheek, following the tearstain.

I shook my head. “No,” I said, my voice sounding husky to my own ears. “It’s because I’m tired of making all the wrong decisions.”

He brushed the tear away and brought his hands up to cup my cheeks. “Then make a right one,” he said softly as he brought his lips to mine.

I didn’t think of right and wrong as I kissed him. All I could think of was how much I wanted him. And how right it felt to let his mouth drift over mine. His lips fit mine as if they were made for me, and I moaned as I let his lips part mine.

His hands finally let go of my face and settled around my waist, pulling me against him as he deepened the kiss. I trailed my hands across his chest, wanting to feel his skin pressed against mine, suddenly frustrated by the clothing that was between us.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and slid the thin straps down my arms and began to place kisses across my exposed skin. Then his hands were pushing my shirt off my shoulders and down my hips, until my shirt hit the floor. He slowly brought his hands up and began to fondle my breasts as he kissed my neck, my collarbone, and every place in between was covered by his warm lips.

I groaned and let my head fall back, loving the feel of his warms lips against my skin, knowing that the feel of his hands on my breasts were doing things to my insides in the best of ways.

He pulled away from me and took my hand. I let him lead me to the couch, where he sat and pulled me so that I straddled his lap.

He began caressing my breasts again. And I began to moan, biting my lip as his fingers teased my nipples to pinched pink points. They begged for his attention, and when he lowered his mouth to my nipples I gasped in pleasure, coming quickly.

He licked and sucked my nipple as if in no hurry to stop, and he pulled at the weight of my breasts balancing them in his hands. I moved my groin against his, shifting back and forth, rubbing my wetness against his body.

He couldn’t feel it, but I could feel my wetness against my jeans. I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to being so aroused. I had only been with one man, and he wasn't very inspiring in bed. My ex-husband.

Husband. That thought sent me spiraling into a sea of disdain and cut through the desire quickly. I was letting someone who was promised to another touch me in ways that even my ex-husband hadn’t touched me.

I pushed his hands away before I could change my mind and stood, looking frantically for my shirt. What was wrong with me? I scrambled around looking for my shirt and trying not to feel like the world’s biggest slut.

“Where is my stupid shirt?” I grumbled to myself as I fought back angry tears. I didn’t even know why I was angry with Julius. I was a willing accomplice. Then it occurred to me that I wasn’t upset with Julius, I was upset with myself.

Maybe that was the real reason I’d shown up. For this to happen. I tried not to think about that truth.

It was then that I noticed Julius standing there with my shirt in his hand looking a mix of bemused, amused, and guilty.

The guilty part made my head hurt.