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He said the day he brought a woman here was the day he was no longer a sex god but the man he should have been all along.
Yes, it had been years since Julian had said what he did to the doorman, but . . .
He hadn’t wanted her to walk away. He’d asked for time with her.
Could the connection she’d felt from the very beginning, the one that had only been growing stronger and stronger . . . could he feel it, too?
Maybe she should just ask him.
Feeling resolved and eager to see Julian, Skylar stood and tightened the belt on her trench coat, and started pacing. When she saw the frames with the pictures of his foster siblings, she went to look at them. That’s when she noticed the items on the shelves above them.
There—set in a gold gilded frame was a set of pictures like the kind you take at the mall or at a street fair, of a teenaged Julian and a girl a couple of years younger than him, both making funny faces at the camera. A childhood friend, maybe?
There—a jar of pebbles, most of them ordinary but a few brilliantly colored. An intriguing collection that reminded her of what a child would collect.
There—a row of leather-bound books by famed philosophers, from Aristotle to Aquinas, Descartes to Foucault.
There—a baseball in a protective display case, signed by Babe Ruth.
Mementos from Julian’s past?
The sound of a phone ringing caught her off guard. She looked and realized Julian had a retro house phone plugged into an even more retro answering machine. How adorable.
The machine clicked on, and a woman’s sultry voice came over the line.
“Julian,darling, it’s Elena. You’re not answering your cell phone, so I tried the number you gave me years ago. I can’t believe you still have a landline. In this day and age? Well, enough of that. First, I want to say thank you for meeting me the other day. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, I still miss your cock. Would you reconsider meeting me again? Please? My pussy craves your touch. Call me back!”
The excitementand hope that had been building in Skylar fizzled and was completely swallowed by the feeling of dread that instantly swelled to tsunami proportion. Nausea hit her hard, and she swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.
Of course. He’d told her he still had clients. Holly had called him, and though he’d turned her down, apparently, this Elena woman had been irresistible. Was this the woman he’d spoken of? His regular lay? The widow?
She’d known all along she wasn’t the only one he was sleeping with but to have it shoved in her face like this was devastating.
Leave.
She had to leave.
She raced to the door, only to freeze when she heard, “Skylar?”
She turned at the sound of Julian’s voice. For a moment, all she could do was stare. He stood with a white towel wrapped around his hips, dipping down low enough for her to see the V of muscles rippling down to his crotch. His hair was wet, the water drops of glistening diamonds. He stood leaning with one arm up on his bedroom doorframe, the other casually dropped at his side.
But there was nothing casual about his eyes.
They pierced her with intensity, with passion, with unbridled desire.
The excitement in her had fizzled with his client’s phone call. But the desire she felt for him . . . that would burn forever.
You’re here. Take your last shot. Then walk away for good.
She reached in front of her, untied the trench coat, and let it fall to her feet.
46
It was done.
After leaving Julian, Skylar couldn’t face the thought of going back to her apartment and trying to sleep, so she took an Uber to work instead. On the ride, she replayed what had just happened, from her hearing Elena’s message to throwing off her trench coat to Julian pouncing on her like a wolf about to devour his next meal.
What followed had been a blur of tongues, teeth, hands, and thighs. Of breathless moans and filthy words. He’d spread her thighs and gone down on her until she was smeared all over his face, and she’d sucked his cock until he’d pounded the floor with his fist and demanded she let him come, which she did, but only after he’d laid back, flipped her around, and she’d done her first sixty-nine. He’d sucked her skin, leaving a patchwork of hickeys across her body, and he’d stuck his finger in her ass.
