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"Juliet," he whispers. He's so close that my name is barely a breeze, and I'm not sure if he said it at all or if it's my imagination.
Finally, our lips touch, and then retreat. It's the lightest caress before he pauses and does it again. The second pass lasts longer as we savor and discover our compatibility. Goosebumps surface on my skin at his perfect touch. That feeling that I experienced with James and Landon, that we were souls reuniting after a time apart, rushes over me. I feel like I've been missing him my entire life. The kiss is that good.
Will swallows the gasp I emit when his kiss becomes hot and demanding. We're crushed together, and I feel like I'm going to melt into a pool of need. This kiss is perfection and for the first time since I disappeared, standing in front of the mirror while staring at the wedding dress that I was going to marry Landon in, I feel at peace. I'm free from pain, and it's because Will is where I'm meant to be at this moment.
I suck his tongue, wanting anything he has to offer. He groans in return, and his tightly bound control slips as he licks and bites into my mouth, driving pleasure from the piercing sting until I cry out. I'm entirely at his mercy. With his silent insistence, I accept my fate and dive in to him headfirst. Wrapping my arms around his head, my fingers plunge into his luscious waves and I pull him closer, matching him need for need. We're stuck together in a frantic, pleading kiss that speaks to a yearning neither of us is willing to admit.
The booming horn of a freight ship passing through the harbor startles me, and I make to pull away. He continues to hold me tight. He doesn't stop nipping and pulling at my lips, his tongue dipping to touch mine seductively. After another moment, he gentles, as if he can't pull away. It's a leisurely, sensual descent from heaven back to earth.
He cradles my nape and his gaze softens when it finds mine. Bloody hell, he's magnificent.
"I should probably be getting home soon," I say lamely, needing a moment to myself to absorb the intensity of what just happened between us.
He strokes his thumb over my bottom lip. "So beautiful," he whispers.
He finally releases me, but not before studying my mouth, and then my cheek and hair, as if he's memorizing the moment.
We pack up the picnic in silence, no doubt both of us reeling from the date. When he drops me off, he asks me to meet him at the same dancehall as the first night. I immediately agree. Moments later, my back is pressed against my door, and I trail my fingers over my still tender lips. What just happened?
Will Darling
I walk into the dancehall, elation in my step at the thought of seeing Will. I've thought about nothing but him all day. My steps falter when I see him talking to an exquisite, blonde woman at the bar. Her hand is on his chest and something inside me just knows that she's one of the girls that he's slept with before. She can't take her eyes off his lips, and when she leans in close to whisper something in his ear, her breasts drag against his chest.
Taking a deep breath, and resolving not to act like an insecure fool, I walk over to the bar and tap him on the shoulder.
"Hi," I tell him.
He takes his time turning his head. She smiles at me pityingly over his shoulder.
"Do you need something?" he asks.
My mouth opens and closes as I try to remember how to speak.
"Weren't we supposed to meet?" I ask foolishly.
"I'm a little busy," he snaps, and my head seizes back as if he's just hit me.
I'm stunned. Overnight, he's transitioned from hot and welcoming, to cold and detached. I'm so angry that it's all I can do to walk away without making a scene. I turn and begin to head towards the exit. I don't stop until I find the safety of my apartment, and I can collapse against the door without inquiring eyes watching me.
There's a knock on the door.
"Juliet," Will calls from the other side, and I blanch.
For some reason he's left his date to rush after me.
"Open up. We need to talk," he demands. Wanting to hold on to this anger that his voice has incited, I throw open the door, ready to fight. Anger is much more appealing than the tears that are threatening to drown me.
His face falls, three lines digging into his brow. They're out of place in his usually perfect face.
"I'm so sorry."
"You have no right to be here. Go away," I snap at him.
He flinches like I've slapped him, and I think about actually doing it.
"Juliet, I.."
"You need to figure yourself out. Don't toy with me like I'm just another girl. Go play with her if that's what you want. I don't do drama, and that's what this is turning into."
