Page 86 of Pucking Forbidden

Julian.

He’s wearing a dark, form-fitting button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the thick, heavy muscle of his wrists. His long, dark curls are bundled up into a man-bun on top of his head, and his thick beard frames a mouth that I can still taste if I close my eyes. He looks massive, imposing, and completely out of place in the sleek, neon-lit club. Like a wild animal trapped in a glass cage.

I can’t look away. Within three seconds, as if he can feel the weight of my stare, his head snaps up. His eyes find mine across the crowded room.

Even from twenty feet away, through the smoke and the flashing lights, I see his entire body go rigid. His jaw tightens, his shoulders locking into place. The carefully constructed distance he has been trying to maintain for two weeks evaporates in a single heartbeat. His gaze darkens, turning intense, and it’s focused entirely on me.

Seeing that look sends a violent jolt of pure heat straight down my spine, burning away the last remnants of my hesitation. The alcohol makes me brave, but the look in his eyes makes me reckless.

I am so incredibly done letting him avoid me. I am done letting him decide what is good for me, or what I am allowed to want. He doesn't get to hide behind his walls anymore. Not tonight.

I turn to the bar, grab a fresh shot of vodka sitting on a tray, and slam it down without even blinking, ignoring the burn in my throat. I set the glass down with a sharp clink, raise my chin, and walk straight toward him.

The crowd seems to part for me, the music swelling into a deafening roar as I close the distance between us. Julian doesn't move an inch. He stands there like a statue, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged breaths as he watches me approach.

I don't give him a chance to speak or put his armor back on. I step directly into his personal space, the heat radiating off his big body hitting me like a physical wave. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers firmly around his wrist, right over his heavy pulse point.

“Hadley,” he growls, his deep voice rumbling beneath the bass of the club, a warning laced with pure desperation.

“Come on,” I reply. “It’s my birthday. You have to dance with me.”

Before he can second-guess it or pull away, I tug him firmly toward the crowded, flashing heat of the dance floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: VEGAS

JULIAN

In the darkness, I still hear the music pounding. I still feel her hands. The dance floor pounding. And then...

Light. I open my eyes. The blinding Vegas sun is cutting directly through a gap in the heavy velvet curtains, slicing across my face like a hot blade. I groan, a dull, rhythmic thumping starting up behind my eyes. My mouth tastes like ash, and my brain feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

Ugh…what time is it? Definitely past four for once. I grab my phone sitting on the end table next to me. It’s almost noon. Holy shit! I see I also have an email from Liam Sullivan with the topic, Contract Notes, but I decide to ignore that for now.

Setting my phone back down, I roll over, ready to bury my face back into the pillow and figure out how three drinks turned into a hangover this brutal, when my shoulder hits something soft.

I freeze. That definitely wasn’t a pillow.

Slowly, I open my eyes, blinking against the glare. The generic luxury of the hotel room starts to register, but my focus instantly locks in on the girl lying right next to me.

Hadley. What the hell?

Her heart-shaped face is soft in sleep, a few stray brown highlights falling across her cheek. She’s curled up, one hand tucked under her chin, her breathing slow and even.

A heavy, liquid heat settles deep in my gut just looking at her. She is so breathtakingly beautiful like this…stripped of her usual cautious defenses, completely soft and trusting in the quiet of the early morning. I find myself holding my breath, terrified that even a sudden shift in my weight will shatter the moment and wake her up.

A dangerous, terrifying realization claws its way up my throat. Waking up to her next to me like this is something I want to do every single day for the rest of my life. It’s an addiction I know I should be fighting, a line I never should have crossed, but looking at her flushed skin and the quiet peace on her face, I know I'm already ruined.

Panic hits me right in the gut. I sit up too fast, causing the room to spin. What the fuck happened last night? My mind is a complete blank. I remember the club. The flashing green lights, the deafening bass, and the exact moment she walked straight up to me in that emerald-green dress and dragged me toward the dance floor.

After that? Nothing. A gray, hazy void.

Did I...? Did we...?

My chest heaves as I frantically look down under the white duvet. Relief washes over me so hard, my shoulders sag. I’m still wearing my dark button-down shirt and jeans. She’s still in her green dress, the fabric wrinkled but completely intact. We’re both fully clothed.

Before I can even begin to untangle the knot of confusion in my chest, a loud, generic ringtone shatters the quiet of the room.

Hadley stirs with a soft groan, her deep chocolate eyes fluttering open. She blinks up at the ceiling, then turns her head and looks at me. There’s no confusion in her expression. Just a quiet, sleepy warmth that makes my throat tighten.