Breaking Giants, page 22
“Ninja, seriously,” I gasp.
He chuckles and palms the back of my head, giving my forehead his quick, customary kiss, before strolling to a kitchen chair. His kitchen chair. Said chair turns, and he sits, legs sprawling over the floor.
“You’re staring, Cunningham.”
Flushing, I look up from his toned calves, over black board shorts I remember well, and past a t-shirt clad chest to his sparkling eyes. I haven’t seen him in close to a week, since an impromptu movie night with Matt and Melody.
“Sorry,” I squeak, and finally summon my wits. “Where’s Mel?”
“I asked if I could come get you instead.” He leans leans forward, bracing elbows on his knees, and gives me an uncertain smile. “Is that okay? I can bring you home after.”
“Uhh—”
Hurt flashes in his eyes at my hesitation. I want more than anything to take it away.
“That’s fine, great. Thanks.”
His answering smile is radiant. “Are you ready?”
“Y-yes.”
I lurch into action, leaving the room to fetch my phone, wallet, and keys. When I return, Julian’s waiting by the front door, sunlight haloing his tall frame. Electric want courses down my spine, washes outward through my limbs, before settling into a thrumming ache between my legs.
“Everything okay?” he asks softly.
I realize I’m frozen, probably wearing an expression of discomfort. “Yes,” I force out. “Let’s go.”
The drive is silent except for the radio, the tension between us almost insufferable. I keep my hands clenched firmly in my lap to thwart the impulse to touch him. When we finally reach Mercer Island, both of us blow out relieved breaths.
Julian drives past the open gate and parks behind Matt’s car. Hands gripping the steering wheel, he clears his throat.
“Sorry, Rose. I’m, uh…” He swallows, falling silent and staring out the windshield.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, then admit ruefully, “Me, too.”
He laughs shortly. “We’re a fucking pair, aren’t we? Maybe I should let Melody drive you home, after all.”
“No,” I say, then blink in surprise at myself.
Julian’s head snaps toward me. “Rose?”
Reeling from my impulsive response, I jump out of the car and begin walking toward the house, muttering, “Smooth, so smooth.”
Julian catches up to me on the threshold of the open door, his hand sliding over my lower back. “No take backs,” he says in a low, rough voice. Then, as my arousal escalates to near painful intensity, he continues, “God, nevermind. I’m an asshole. You can take back whatever you want.”
Calm filters through me.
I’m done waiting. I’m ready.
I grab his hand from my back, but instead of dropping it, I weave my fingers through his. I hear his short, surprised inhale, but don’t dare look at him as we walk through the house to the backyard. I’m not sure my ego would survive face-planting right now.
There are fifteen or so people already here, spread between the patio and the sunny lawn. In the jacuzzi, Matt leaps to his feet, waving his arms in a completely unnecessary gesture to get our attention.
“Hey, guys!” he hollers. “Bring me a beer and get in here!”
Julian laughingly waves him off, and we linger on the patio for a few minutes, greeting and chatting with Breaking Giants’ manager, Phil, as well as our shared production manager and lead sound engineer.
As the men catch up and share memories from past tours, I let my gaze wander until I see Greg and Kelly looking a touch overwhelmed near the pingpong table. Giving Julian’s fingers a quick squeeze, I excuse myself and head their way. Their faces light up as I approach.
“Oh man, I’m glad you’re here,” says Greg, giving me a quick hug.
Kelly’s hug is longer, and she whispers, “Is this real life?”
Laughing, I step back. “Strangely, yes. Thanks for letting me drag Greg on the road, Kelly. He said you’re going to fly out a few times to meet up with us?”
She nods excitedly. “Houston show, I think. And probably New York next year. I have a bunch of family in the area.”
“Well, you’re always welcome,” I say, then add teasingly, “You could always just quit your job and come on the road with us.”
Kelly blinks. “Are you for real?”
I glance at Greg to see whether or not I just put my foot in my mouth, but he’s grinning, so I turn back to Kelly with my own smile.
“Hell yes. It’s me, Greg, Brody, and our new drummer Murphey on the bus. We have the bunk space, and it would be awesome to have another woman around.”
Greg tugs on Kelly’s pale blonde braid. “Told you!”
I punch his arm. “You were waiting for me to offer? Come on, you should have just asked!”
Greg’s response is lost in Kelly’s squeal as she throws her arms around me. “Oh my gosh, I would love to come on tour with you guys! I can do your hair and makeup! I’ll make you food, whatever you want!” She finally releases me to give the same straightjacket treatment to Greg.
Warm fingers cup my bare arm, giving me a second’s warning before Julian presses against my back. His chin descends to my shoulder.
“Let me guess, Kelly’s coming with us.” I nod, and he chuckles approvingly.
With a breathless laugh, I shift subtly to bring his hips in line with my ass. He stills, fingers clenching on my arms.
“Hot tub,” he grinds out. “Now. Or I’m going to be walking around with a tent in my pants.”
I blink at Greg and Kelly, who are now staring at us with wide-eyed delight. “We’re going to, uh, get in the jacuzzi. You guys want to come?”
Greg laughs knowingly. “Nope. And I pity whoever else is in there with you.”
“Me too,” says Julian, straightening and guiding me by the hand toward the pool. Halfway there, in a pocket of space with no prying ears, he gives me a searing look. “Punishment is in order.”
My dormant, debauched self wakes up with a stretch and a yawn. “Whatever you dish out, I can take.”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, it’s on.” He glances meaningfully at my mouth. “And I know you can take what I dish out.”
OhmyGod.
Grinning at my shocked face, he releases my hand to pull off his shirt. I shamelessly catalogue evidence of his continued, rigorous exercise routine.
From the jacuzzi, Matt yells, “Stop eye-fucking each other! Where’s my beer?”
Melody, perched on one of the steps, slaps him on the shoulder while laughing. Nick and Kat just shake their heads at us in sympathy, while the final occupant, Jackson, looks like he’d rather be at the dentist.
Julian heads for the jacuzzi and lowers himself into the steaming water, releasing a deep groan of pleasure. “This feels amazing. I’m so stiff.” There’s a two-count silence before he sputters, “That’s not—”
Matt, Nick, Melody and Kat burst out laughing. Jackson just rolls his eyes. “He’s stiff from our run this morning, idiots.”
Julian shakes his head, chuckling, before looking up at me. “Quit lallygagging, Cunningham.”
Everyone laughs again.
“Lallygagging?” I repeat, pulling off my tank top and stepping out my shorts. “You’re living in a different century, Ashburn.”
I slip into the water beside him and find a jet, giving my own groan as it pounds into my back.
His mouth grazes my ear. “You’ve been working out.”
“Hey!” yells Jackson. “No moving hands under the water! A little respect for the single guy, please.”
Julian laughs at the reprimand that I’m both grateful and resentful for. His fingers trail down my thigh before retracting.
Turning my head, I realize he’s still very close. Moisture beads on his lips, which fall open as I stare at them. My heart pounding, I risk a glance up. Burning molasses; sunset in the desert.
And I can’t wait anymore.
“When can we leave?” I ask.
His eyes close, then open. “Now.”
♫
We make it back to my house. Barely. The second the front door closes, our hands are tearing off clothing. Litanies of curses come from both of us as I try to maneuver out of wet shorts.
Fabric tears. My bikini top gets thrown and dangles from the foyer’s ceiling light. The first touch of my bare breasts on his chest makes us both moan. My teeth find his neck and clamp.
He lifts me roughly against the wall and my head hits the plaster.
“Sorry,” he gasps.
“Don’t care,” I say, aiming my mouth for his.
Our teeth clash, lips bruising. I feel him, hard and hot and thick, against my inner thigh.
“Julian. Please.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, “I don’t have any condoms. I didn’t know—think—”
“I have an IUD,” I gasp, angling a hand between us. He thrusts on instinct as my fingers wrap around him. “I’m clean.”
“So am I, but are you sure—”
“Quit lallygagging!” I cry, jerking my hips to feed him an inch into my channel. The pressure and fullness shatters the remains of my control. “Fuck me now, Julian, or I swear to God—”
He sinks into me, hard and deep, again and again, driving me against and up the wall. A picture frame falls, clattering on the floor. My legs clamp around his hips, ankles locking against his lower back. He drags my arms over my head, manacling my wrists with both hands.
I’m fully possessed by him. Fully at his mercy.
And blissfully free.
“Rose, Rose, you feel so good… I don’t think I can—”
The friction of him against me, the strangled words of his unravelling control, trigger an orgasm so consuming I feel unmade. I scream his name, straining against his hold, bucking like the wild animal I am. He looses another series of curses, thrusting hard and finally stilling.
His knees buckle and we hit the floor.
Hard.
“Are you okay?” he asks with strangled laughter, his face obscured by my hair.
I groan. “My ass.”
He chuckles. “Don't worry, we’ll get to that beautiful ass. I just… need… maybe five months for my balls to recover.”
Giggling helplessly, I manage to untangle myself and sit against the wall. Julian is splayed naked on his back, heaving for air as he tries to stop laughing.
Rolling his face toward me, he gives me a brilliant smile. “So. Loud.”
I shove his hip with my foot. “I think you were hearing yourself. I’m pretty sure the neighbors think a man was just murdered in here.”
He grabs my leg and yanks me from the wall. I almost knee him in the face, but somehow end up sprawled on top of him. His hands flow down my back and cup my ass, but his expression is suddenly serious.
“Don’t tell me you regret this, Rose.”
I take his face in my hands. “I don’t,” I say honestly.
He sighs, then grins. “Good. Now please get off me—you’re sticky.”
“Asshole, it’s your stick.” I laugh and climb to my feet. My knees feel unsteady, and what the hell is… “Uh oh. I’ll be right back.”
Julian’s laughter booms out, following my flight down the hall to my bathroom.
32
when the dead won’t stay buried
I clean up and throw on a cotton skirt and a camisole. Julian is in the kitchen, his shorts back on and typing on his cell phone. He looks up with a smile, one that sharpens as he sees what I’m wearing.
“Oh, that camisole and I have a history.”
Smirking, I remember the night when I was sick. “Yeah, sorry about that. That wasn’t very nice of me.”
He hums agreement, stalking toward me to trace the outline of a nipple through the thin silk.
“You’re forgiven. But this is coming in my luggage on tour. I want it under my face every night.”
My heart surges against my ribs. “Julian Ashburn, that was romantic.”
He chuckles. “I’ve been practicing.” Dropping his phone on the counter, he gives me a swift kiss. “Let me get cleaned up, then we need to talk about pancakes. I’m starving.”
I watch him go, a stupidly happy grin on my face, then hunt down my cell phone. Finding it under my torn shorts, I see one new notification. A text message from Melody.
Bahahahaha!
Thinking about how we left the party not twenty minutes after arriving, I grimace and type an apology, then delete it when I realize I’m not sorry at all. Smiling to myself, I walk back into the kitchen, tossing my phone beside Julian’s before opening the fridge.
I’m reaching for the milk and eggs when my phone buzzes. Figuring it’s another text from Melody, I feel blindly, grabbing it and picking it up.
Are you coming over later? miss u xx
Frowning down at the message, my eyes veer to the sender’s name.
Sheridan Franklin.
And I realize I’m not holding my phone, but Julian’s.
“No,” I whisper, a soft plea to the universe. To whatever one of Katherine’s spirit guides or mine might be listening.
“Is that my phone?” asks Julian, his tone curious but unbothered. His arm slides around my shoulders and he kisses my temple. “Did I get a text?”
“Yes,” I say hoarsely, pressing the button to illuminate the screen.
Peering over my shoulder, he sees the message. Tension ripples down his frame.
“Rose, it’s not what you think.” Low, urgent words.
Feeling like a robot version of myself, I hand him his phone and take a step back, closing the refrigerator and leaning against it.
Don’t freak out don’t freak out.
“Okay,” I say calmly. Calm so calm. “Who’s Sheridan?”
He hesitates, gaze dropping. A piece of my heart shears off, slicing as it goes.
I love you, so fucking much.
Julian drags a hand through his hair, grown back to its former tousled length. “I’m going to tell you the exact truth so there’s no misunderstandings. Sheridan is the daughter of my first sponsor. She’s in the program. We’ve fooled around off and on over the years. After the accident, we, well…” I can’t smother a flinch. “I know that’s not easy to hear, but I want to tell you the truth so you don’t write stories in your head.”
I walk across the kitchen to put distance between us. “I’m suddenly not sure I want the truth, Julian,” I say weakly.
“I’m not going to lie to you,” he says fiercely.
I close my eyes. “Okay, fine. So you hooked up with her after the accident. We weren’t… anything, so whatever. But have you seen her in the last six weeks?”
He sighs heavily. “Yes.”
I press fingertips into my eyes. “Wow, that… sucks.” I can’t manage anything more eloquent.
“Will you look at me, Rose? Can we talk this out?”
I lower my hands and look at him, taking in his contrite expression, his sincere eyes. And my defensive numbness buckles.
“You said you’d wait for me. I was… working on myself. You said you loved me, Julian. How could you sleep with someone else? How many times did you go to her? All your calls, texts… did you fuck her, then text me the same night telling me how much you missed me?”
“Goddamnit, Rose,” he growls, “you gave me zero assurances that you’d ever change your mind!”
The last shreds of calm dissolve beneath searing anger and hurt. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants for six fucking weeks? You’re a grown man, not some horny twenty-five-year-old anymore!”
He moves so fast I don’t have time to react, but he doesn’t touch me, merely looms over me, dark and furious. “You’re inside me when I sleep and when I’m awake. There was only so much I could stand before I had to drive you out!”
“How romantic!” I yell belligerently. “Were you going to see her tonight? If I didn’t put out?”
He doesn’t say anything.
My anger withers; my eyes burn with tears. Don’t cry. Won’t cry.
“Do you love her?” I whisper.
Laughing humorlessly, he spins away and stalks back across the kitchen. “I love you, which is seeming more and more like a fucking curse.”
The air vacates my lungs. “Ouch.”
“Rose,” he breathes, “I didn’t mean that.”
“I can’t believe I just slept with you without a condom,” I say tonelessly. “At least tell me you used condoms with her.”
“Yes,” he snaps.
Silence falls. A car drives by outside. A dog barks. Somewhere down the street, children squeal and shout.
“Today changes things,” he says, voice soft, threading through the quiet. “I want to be with you. Only you. Say the word and I’m yours. One hundred percent. All-fucking-in. But only if you can give me the same. Or are you going to run away again?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to.” I meet his eyes, dark with need and pain and desire. “Maybe I don’t have a right to be, but I’m still hurt. I… I need some time to process this.”
“Fine,” he says, nodding curtly. “Take all the time you need. Weeks, months, years, whatever.”
He grabs his phone off the counter and walks past me. Turning, I watch him pick up his t-shirt and pull it on.
I’m losing him.
No, please…
But the sick feeling in my gut won’t go away—the knowledge that he’s been sleeping with someone else all these weeks as I was tackling my fears. Breaking down the hurt of him tossing me aside after the accident. Taking care of myself.
Cultivating my happiness.
To be ready for him.
He’s ready for you.
I watch, silent and empty, as my happiness leaves, slamming the front door behind him. And because I don’t know what else to do, I retrieve my phone from the far counter and call Aunt Katherine.
When she picks up, I try to speak, but all that comes out is a pained sound.
She says softly, “It was too soon.”
I hang up on her. Staring out the kitchen window, I wait for the vise on my chest to loosen enough for me to take a full breath.
