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28. Yellow Tape
Cash
My stolen weekend with Jules goes by too fast. Next thing I know it’s Sunday evening, and I’m having the hardest fucking time leaving her apartment. Wrapped in a sheet, Jules clutches the ends to her chest as I draw her in for what seems like our hundredth kiss. We’re standing in her doorway, and I’ve been trying to leave her place—leave her—for the past ten minutes. I’m sure we’re drawing attention, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“I don’t want to go,” I mumble against her lips.
She pulls me back inside, and the sheet falls to the floor as the door closes. We’re once again inside the privacy of her apartment, and just like yesterday morning, I have her up against the wall with my mouth fused to hers. For the past two days, we’ve lived on sex, takeout, more sex, and more takeout.
I flick my thumbs over her nipples as I kiss a warm path down her throat. “You’re gonna have to tell me to leave, Jules.”
“I’d only be lying. I don’t want you to go.”
“The longer we put this off, the harder it’ll be.”
Letting out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slump. “Will you come back and spend the night?”
“I’ll try. I don’t know how this conversation is going to go with Monica. But I’ll try. I want to be with you more than anything.”
After she wraps the sheet around her deliciously naked body, I open the door and step outside. Maybe this time, I’ll actually make it beyond her welcome mat.
Twirling a lock of her hair, I lean down and kiss her cheek because kissing her anywhere else will only lead to me pushing her back to that wall and fucking her against it. “I’ll make this right, I promise.”
“I trust you.”
She’s trusting me with so much.
Not to be a cliché douchebag who says he’s going to divorce his wife but doesn’t. Jules is trusting me not to break her heart, and I’m going to cherish that trust more than anything.
“I’d better go.”
“You’d better,” she says, nibbling her lower lip, “before this sheet ends up on the floor and I drop to my knees.” She lowers her gaze to the growing bulge behind my shorts.
“Jesus, Jules. For sucking at sucking cock, you do it pretty damn well.” I grab her by the back of the neck and slam my mouth onto hers. As her tongue pushes against mine, all I can think about is sinking into the wet glove of her mouth again. The memory of watching her lips slide up and down my cock has me rock hard. I break away before I lose total control.
“No more goodbyes,” I say, leaning my forehead against hers. “No more kissing or talk of sucking me off. I’m going now.” Before I lose my nerve, I tear myself away and put a few feet of space between us. “I’ll text you, okay?”
“Okay.”
Neither of us move.
“Go inside, Jules. I can’t leave until you do.”
She’s still nibbling on that sexy-as-fuck lower lip. And her eyes—good God I need to get out of here before I never make it home.
And going home is important, despite the dread in my gut, because Jules and I have no future until I hash things out with my wife.
“Why do I feel like this is the end?” she asks, her gaze veering from me.
I shove down the urge to close the short distance between us. “Jules, look at me.” She does, and damn how I want to reach for her. “Nothing on earth could keep me away from you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“I love you, Cash.” She draws in a shaky breath before shutting the door.
I let out a breath. Yesterday when she said it, I had my cock buried in her. The moment was intense, the kind when emotions run high and people say and do things they might not mean.
