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I grabbed two short glasses and tossed a couple of ice cubes in each one before pouring generous amounts of Julian’s fancy bourbon into each glass.
I tossed the first glass back and poured myself a second before bringing the glasses back to the sofa and handing one to Julian.
“You and me,” Jules repeated slowly. “Do you remember that promise we made back when we were kids? You said when you wrote it down, it became law. I agreed to it.”
“Heck, yeah.” I nodded. “And it’s still true. It’s always been you and me—”
“It was,” Julian corrected, staring down into his drink. “Then you and Erin got engaged. When you agreed to marry her, it became you and her. It voided our contract.”
Normally, I loved it when Julian talked to me in his lawyer-speak, but today, I did not.
“What? No, it didn’t!” I frowned. “Not really. Erin is… she’s Erin. She’s not you and me.”
He snorted. “Brilliant insight, Shortbread. Keep drinking.”
“No, seriously, Julian,” I began, needing to convince him that I meant what I said. “I never—”
“It doesn’t matter, Parker.” Jules sounded weary, like all the drama of the day was catching up with him. “That promise was a long time ago. I barely remember it anymore.” He threw back a healthy gulp. I noticed the way his throat moved as he swallowed. His dark evening stubble shifted as his Adam’s apple moved under his skin.
Julian Thick was a beautiful man. That was nothing new. He was stopped regularly by men and women who did a double take when they saw his dark hair, square jaw, and defined cheekbones. He’d even modeled in college on a lark. It wasn’t like he’d needed the money; his family was obscenely wealthy. But he’d thought it was funny, and he’d had a crush on one of the photographers.
“I still have that picture of you,” I said a little while later, completely out of the blue.
“You’ve had too much bourbon,” he said with that kind of soft tone his voice got sometimes when he was buzzed.
“No, I mean the one you did for that magazine. The one without your shirt.” I grinned at him. “The one with the nips.”
Julian grinned back, rolling his head on the back of the sofa cushion, his earlier surly mood temporarily forgotten. “Jordan Pribble. Had an ass like a fucking vise. I remember that day. God, he was hot.”
I stared at him. “You fucked him?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I fucked him. Several times if I recall correctly. Sucked him off, too. He was—”
“Ugh,” I said, interrupting him by holding up a hand. “Don’t want the details, thanks.”
“Fat like an eggplant,” he finished deliberately. “Uncut. Nearly gagged me until I cried.”
My heart rate tripped into a faster rhythm. “Stop.”
I hated hearing this. Loathed it. But it was also doing funny things to my stomach. I stared at the shine of bourbon on his lips, at the way his blue eyes glinted with remembered heat, and felt like I was maybe catching a glimpse of a Julian Thick who wasn’t my loyal friend but someone else’s hot, aggressive lover.
I shivered despite the fire.
Julian chuckled darkly. “Fine. I’m going to bed. Good night, Parker.”
He got all the way to the back hallway before I found my voice and called after him. “Stay. You can tell me about eggplant dick if you want.”
“Go to sleep, Parks. There are blankets in that basket over there.”
I got up and knocked my knee on the coffee table, cursing the pain as I stumbled toward the hallway after him. “No, really. I can handle it. Naked man dick. Tight man asshole. Blow jobs. Fingers. See? I’m cool.”
I wasn’t, really, but I wanted to be. For him.
He was standing in the bedroom, pulling off his sweater, when I walked in. The place looked larger than I expected, and I recognized the sheets and comforter.
“This is your bedding from home,” I said stupidly.
Julian sighed and walked over to me. The familiar ink on his chest drew my eye the way it always did. He clasped my shoulders and met my eyes. He had gorgeous blue eyes. Sometimes dark with strong emotion and sometimes light with happiness.
“It’s been a long, shitty day,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead like I was a sleepy child. I should have hated it. I should have shoved him off me, but I didn’t. I wanted more of his familiar comfort.
I wanted more of him.
I cleared my throat. “Fine, then. We can go to sleep early, I guess. You want the left side?”
Julian paused and stared at me, his hands clenching and unclenching. “No. I… I want to sleep alone.”
Alone? Since when? We’d shared a bed more times than I could count. Hell, I’d probably shared a bed more with him than even Erin at this point. And always, before we went to sleep, I talked about whatever random things floated into my brain, and Julian listened, until his replies faded to comforting half-formed murmurs and my eyes finally shut.
