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4. Impossibilities
Cash
Walking away from Jules again is unfathomable. The thought rips through my chest, shoots dread through my veins. Renders me incapable of giving two fucks about right and wrong.
We have so little time left before the real world comes knocking, and I hate not knowing when the earth will settle under our feet again. As Jules calls in to HR, I can’t keep my eyes off of her. She’s got her back to me, her golden locks falling to her waist, wild and free.
Jesus, I’ll never tire of ogling her, no matter the angle. No matter the agony. I want her on my lap again. I want her unraveling in my arms. I want to yank on all of that silky hair.
Some might call what we have lust. They’d definitely call it wrong. But nothing has ever settled in my gut with such rightness. The connection between us is too strong, and we’re both selfish enough to surrender to it, to hell with the consequences.
She ends the call and sets her phone on the counter, shoulders slumped. I recognize her dejected spirt before she turns around to face me, and if I hadn’t spied it in the bow of her head or the wringing of her hands, I’d find it drawn on her beautiful face.
A moment of uncertainty passes between us, and she’s the first to shatter it by moving toward me. “Are you hungry?” she asks.
“Maybe.”
She’s just the distraction I need, and with each step she takes, I’m openly undressing her with my eyes. Off goes that pink form-fitting blouse. The front dips into the valley of her breasts, and I’m positive she wore it for me today. It’s sexier than her usual attire, but just as sweet. I left her apartment last night with the taste of that sweetness on my tongue, with the memory of her body sheathing me in tight perfection. Her gaze darts to my lap, and I don’t even flinch. There’s no hiding this. We’re in big fucking trouble.
“I can fix you breakfast,” she says, stalling a couple feet away.
“I could eat.”
The corners of her mouth twitch, telling me she picked up on my double entendre. “I’m talking about food.”
“I’m not talking about food.”
She comes closer, and I grab her by the hips and pull her down on me. She parts her lips on a gasp, but it’s not her mouth that has me captivated. It’s her eyes. Christ, this is what I remember most—the forceful current of her deep brown gaze pulling me under, drowning me in trust and love as I slid inside her for the first time. If I’m hungry, it’s for that soul-shattering look of hers.
Damn, I need it with every fiber of my being.
Her living room fades, and it’s just the heat of her panties between us. The darkening of her pupils. The haze of lust in mine. She’s wet and tempting on my lap, and it’s enough to smother the reality threatening to choke me. Or maybe I’m just too exhausted to fight this.
“I can’t get over how beautiful you are.” I work to get the words past the hoarseness of my vocal cords. “Unbutton your top.”
As she slides a button free, I follow the movement of her fingers, practically hypnotized. Another button comes undone, followed by another until pink lace taunts me from beneath that material. Dipping my head, I nudge her blouse out of the way and find her budded nipple through soft lace. As I suck it into my mouth, her head dips back with a moan.
“We’re going to hell,” she says, breathless.
“Hell can have me, Jules.”
Because she’s pure heaven, and I’m defenseless against her allure as I claim her mouth. I’m needy and delirious and without remorse as I part her lips with my tongue. Jules obliterates my will, my mind, just like she has from the beginning.
She’s the elixir I need right now, the balm to the insanity crowding from the edges of my mind. I’m desperate to bury myself inside the haven of her soul, but I can’t bring myself to go that far. If we end up in her bed again, I’ll never be able to leave her.
For now, I’ll have to settle for the feel of her on my lap, her lips eager against mine, her fingers twisting in my hair. Soon, life will creep back in. People will demand answers. But in this perfect moment, she’s mine, and that’s all that matters. Everything else can fall where it fucking may.
“We shouldn’t do this,” she says, breaking our kiss.
“That’s been our story from the beginning.”
“I don’t want it to be our end.” She tugs her lower lip between her teeth, and I wonder if she realizes the gentle motion of her hips. We’re fucking through our clothes, but I can’t bring myself to care about the wet spot she’s leaving on my pants.
Maybe part of me is even a little rebellious, knowing I’ll wear the heady scent of her to the press conference.
Grabbing her by the nape, I pull her closer, my eyes on her lips just inches away. “One day, there won’t be any shouldn’ts between us.” I brush my knuckles across her cheekbone, and her gaze lands on my hand.
“You’re wearing your ring.”
