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“I’m serious,” she says, her breath coming faster. “I’m not going to marry you Ford, not ever. No matter how charming or sweet or loyal you are. It’s never going to happen.”
“But fucking’s still on the table?” I hear myself ask, because I’m hopeless when it comes to the bold, defiant woman my bratty little stepsister has become.
She gives a tiny shake of her head. “You’re impossible.”
“No, I just want you. Badly,” I say, knowing by now that the truth will get me farther with Juliet than a charming line ever will. “And not just because you’re stupidly pretty. That’s not even the main part of it, honestly.”
Her eyes narrow. “So, what is it? My sparkling personality and habit of telling you to go fuck yourself?”
I smile. “Yeah, that’s a big part of it. And the fact that you’re the only one who has any idea what I’ve been through. And because when I touch you…” I trail off, losing my footing now that I’m so close to a truly dangerous confession.
If she mocks this part, it will hurt. A lot.
But I didn’t escape the fight pits to live like a coward, did I?
She lifts her chin, bringing her lips even closer to mine. “What? What happens when you touch me?”
“I feel safe,” I say, my voice breaking in the middle of the last word. “For the first time in so fucking long.”
Her gaze softens as she breathes, “Me, too.”
Before I can fully grasp the enormity of that, of me being her safe place, too, her arms are around my neck and her lips are on mine.
She kisses me and instantly the universe is reordered.
At least for me.
I’ve kissed her neck and rubbed against her through our clothes. I’ve been close to her enough times that I thought I understood the power of our chemistry. But I had no fucking clue. I had no idea kissing could feel like this, like opening a door to a new world, a world of beauty and magic and possibilities I didn’t realize existed before.
Herworld. That’s what it is.
It’s Juliet on the other side of this door we’re throwing open as our tongues dance and we cling to each other like the last boat in a raging sea. It’s her brave spirit, her good heart. It’s also her pain and her fear and all the jagged pieces of a soul the world has done its best to shatter.
She’s broken, no doubt—I’d be fool to think otherwise—but she can be mended.
And so can I.
As I gather her close and lose myself in the wonder of her kiss, I realize I’ve found the answer to all the questions I’ve been too stupid to ask until now. And every one is her name.
“Juliet,” I murmur against her lips as we fall back onto the bed, her on top of me and my hands everywhere I’ve been dying to touch her.
“Don’t talk,” she says, kissing me harder. “Just kiss me.”
I squeeze her ass, groaning as she straddles my hips and rubs against my engorged cock through our clothes, sighing her pleasure against my lips. My breath shudders out in kind, but not from pleasure.
This is crazy hot, no doubt, but bliss isn’t the number one thing throbbing through my veins. It’s…relief. Relief that she’s finally this close, relief that she’s let me in, even a little bit. Relief that maybe we can find our way out of the hell her father cast us into. Together.
Really together, as something more than friends.
“Fuck, Jules,” I hiss as she pops the button on my jeans and reaches into my boxer briefs, fisting my cock in her cool little hand.
“Not right now,” she says, misunderstanding me. “But I do want to see you.” She shoves at the top of my jeans, making it clear what she wants to see, and I happily oblige her.
I shove my jeans and underwear down below my ass, freeing my erection. I’m so hard that veins stand out thick against my flushed skin, but Juliet doesn’t seem concerned by the beastly state of my hard-on. She pulls back to sit on my thighs and runs gentle fingers over me, making my cock twitch and a moan rumble through my chest.
“It’s beautiful,” she finally says, seconds before she grips my length so tight I see stars. I start to ask her to take it a little easier on me, but her lips are already back on mine. She kisses me hard and deep as she jerks me off and in just a few moments, I forget about the pain. “I want to make you come so bad,” she says against my lips and teeth, the kiss now so bruising, I taste blood. “I crave your fucking pleasure like air, Ford. What’s that about?”
“I crave your pleasure, too,” I say, trying to get my hand down the front of her jeans, but she bats my eager fingers away.
