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“Juliet.” My name escapes him. “My beautiful Juliet.”
I close my eyes to fight off the flood of emotions that hit me like a battering ram.
I want nothing more than to be his Juliet, and at least for tonight, I am.
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Kavan lets out a low chuckle. “Very funny, Juliet.”
I bounce up to my tiptoes to kiss his mouth. “I think you pronounced that wrong. The term is very delicious, Juliet.”
He catches my chin in his hand before he kisses me again, but this one is slow and lingering. I can taste the sweetness of his breath and smell our sex on his skin.
He fucked me once, stripped off the condom, ate me, and fucked me again.
It took hours, but felt like it wasn’t long enough.
I want more. I want more of all of it.
“You’re delicious,” he says as he stares at my lips.
I fall back to my bare feet as I stare up at him. “Thank you for letting me borrow your shirt, Bane.”
He glances down at the black button-down shirt I slipped on after I crawled out of his bed. It’s much too large for me, but I only buttoned two buttons mid-stomach and I rolled up the sleeves far enough that my hands are visible.
“I should thank you for that,” he counters. “Do you know how breathtaking you are, Juliet?”
I know I’m beautiful. I’ve been told that my entire life and there was a time when I thought that defined me.
It doesn’t, but I like knowing Kavan sees my outer beauty as well as what’s inside of me.
I look into his eyes. “One day I’ll win a Pulitzer Prize.”
His eyes hold mine. “You will. I’m sorry for that remark. It was out of line.”
Not wanting to weigh this moment down with what happened earlier, I smile. “Eat your sandwich, Kavan.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
I skim a hand over his chest, down his stomach until it stops just above his boxer briefs. “I won’t suck you off tonight.”
He lunges forward toward the dining room table and the meager meal I prepared for us. “Give me that sandwich. I’ll eat ten if it means I get to feel your pillow soft lips wrapped around me.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kavan
Exhausted and satiated, I tug on Juliet’s hair. “I’m good. I’m so good.”
Her eyes bolt up to meet mine. “You’re not kidding.”
I watch as she swipes the back of her hand over her mouth. “That was nice.”
Nice?
I huff out a laugh. “Nice is a picnic in the park. That blowjob was fucking incredible.”
That lures her into my lap on the couch.
She crawls up and onto me, settling over my cock. “What would you know about picnics in parks?”
I adjust her in my lap because being this close to her is too much. I’m already hardening even though I blew a load down her throat less than two minutes ago.
“I know it’s a thing people do.”
“Such a cookie-cutter billionaire.” She swats my shoulder. “People? I happen to love picnics in the park, Kavan.”
“You do?”
I needed to know that. I don’t know why but that feels important. Suddenly, many things do.
“What’s your favorite color, Juliet?”
She leans back to study my face. “Why?”
“Answer the question.”
“Purple.” Her fingertips tap against my shoulder. “Yours?”
I stare at her.
“You have one, right?” she questions. “Kavan, you must have one.”
“Hazel. It’s hazel.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Are you saying that because my eyes are hazel? Are you hoping to get lucky again tonight?”
“I will get lucky again tonight,” I say as I snake a hand under the hem of the shirt. “You’re not leaving here until I fuck you again.”
She cups a hand over my cheek. “You don’t smile enough.”
I move my hand up her thigh, settling it so my fingertips brush against her pussy. “Smiling is overrated.”
“It’s not,” she argues. “If you could see yourself when you smile, you’d do it all the time.”
She’s wrong. I don’t want to see myself smile.
When I do I’m reminded of the last picture ever taken of my father and I. Nigel snapped it on a beach in Miami hours before my father drew his last breath.
I close my eyes. “Juliet.”
I sense her lips hovering over mine. “It’s okay to be happy again.”
I reach forward until my lips touch hers for a soft kiss. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
She taps my chin. “Look at me, Kavan.”
I slowly open my eyes to see the gold flecks in her irises. The color of her eyes is as unique as she is.
“Are you happy tonight?” she asks.
“I’m satisfied.”
“You’re not.” She shakes her head. “I sense you’re the type of man who is never satisfied.”
That may have been true before she walked into my life.
I feel a sense of satisfaction I haven’t before. I’m content.
“Are you happy?” she asks again.
“I’m happy I met you,” I say as a compromise.
