A laugh bubbled in my throat. “Defile might be too strong a word, though I suspect they’d revoke my library access if anyone finds out what happened.”
My cock pulsed, eager for its turn, but when she reached for my belt buckle, I grasped her wrist and placed it back by her side.
Confusion creased her brow. “But—”
“I’ll take care of it later. Don’t worry about it.”
“Josh, that looks painful.”
It was painful. I was so hard it was fucking excruciating. But a sick part of me reveled in it.
The pain reminded me I was still alive.
“You need a release too,” Jules pointed out, and I knew she wasn’t just talking about an orgasm.
“I’ll take care of it,” I repeated. Walking out with a boner the size of the Washington Memorial would be awkward as fuck, but the other people in the library had looked so zoned out I wasn’t sure they’d notice. “Don’t want to push our luck.”
“Right.” She closed her eyes, her breaths slowing.
Lazy silence swirled in the air.
Today was a complete one-eighty from the type of sex we usually had, but sometimes you needed hard and fast; other times you needed long and languid.
Besides, I could eat Jules out for days and not get tired of it.
My eyes lingered on her delicate features and rosy flush for a second longer than they should’ve.
On impulse, I said, “You want to go with me somewhere next Saturday? It’s not a date,” I clarified when her eyes popped open. “The hospital is having its annual all-staff picnic and I know the nurses will try to set me up like they do every year. Figured I’d preempt it by bringing a fake date.” I emphasized the word fake.
Jules’s brows rose. “That’s against the rules of our arrangement.”
Yeah, I fucking knew. I wasn’t sure what possessed me to ask her when I could’ve brought any number of casual female acquaintances, but reason flew out the window whenever Jules Ambrose was involved.
It was damn infuriating, but since I couldn’t do anything about it, I might as well lean into it.
“Rules are meant to be bent.” I shrugged. “Look, if you ever need someone to pretend to be your date, I’m game. It’s easier than asking some random person.”
When Jules continued to hesitate, I added, “There’ll be free food.”
A beat passed before she said, “I could make it work.”
“Good. I’ll text you the details later.” I turned to leave, but her soft, tentative voice stopped me.
“Josh. Are you going to be okay?”
I stilled. A strange lump formed in my throat at her unexpected concern before I swallowed it. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” I threw her a quick smile over my shoulder. “See you next Saturday, Red.”
After I left the library—where no one noticed my hard-on, thank God—I went straight home and poured myself a glass of Macallan. The shit was expensive, but it’d been a birthday gift from Alex. I’d rationed it out over the years, saving it for my biggest celebrations and shittiest days.
I finished my first glass and poured myself a second one. I didn’t touch my erection. Instead, I sat in my living room and leaned my head back against the couch, listening to the silence.
Seeing Jules had provided a surprising measure of comfort, but the momentary lightness I’d experienced in the library had already drained away.
I tossed back the rest of my drink and savored the burn of whiskey sliding down my throat.
In that moment, it was the only thing keeping me warm.
27
JULES
I couldn’t stop thinking about Josh or what happened in the library. Not only the part where he went down on me—though I’d replayed that particular experience more times than I could count—but the look on his face when he told me his patient died. The way he’d kissed me, soft yet desperate, like he craved comfort but couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. And the way he’d looked when he left, like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.
They were thoughts I shouldn’t have. There was no room for them in our arrangement, but that didn’t stop them from occupying space in my head rent-free.
“Stop it, Jules,” I ordered as I walked toward the park where the hospital’s all-staff picnic took place. “Get it together.”
A nearby family gave me a strange look and quickened their steps until they passed me.
Great. Now I was talking to myself and scaring off parents and children.
I released a deep sigh and tried to tame the flutter of nerves in my stomach when I neared the park entrance.
It was a picnic, for God’s sake. I only agreed to come because there was free food, and I never turned down free food. It wasn’t like it was a real date.
A breeze swept past and blew my dress up around my waist.
“Shit!” I hastily pushed down the billowing cotton, already regretting my outfit choice. It was finally warm enough for dresses again, but my weather app had fucked me over once again and failed to mention how windy it was. I’ll have to spend the entire day holding down my skirt unless I wanted everyone at Thayer Hospital to find out what color underwear I wore.
“Flashing people already? We haven’t even gotten you drunk yet.” Josh’s lazy drawl drifted into my ears.
I looked up to find him leaning against the entrance, arms folded across his chest. There was no trace of the tension and grief that lined his face in the library. Instead, a sly grin dimpled his cheeks, and a faint glow of amusement lit his eyes as they skimmed over me from head to toe.
Relief kindled in my chest. Cocky Josh was a pain in my ass, but for reasons I’d rather not examine, I preferred him being a pain to being in pain.
“This is a family picnic, Chen,” I said as I approached him. “No alcohol allowed.”
“Since when did you become such a prude?” He gave my braid a light tug and laughed when I swatted his hand away. “Braid, flats, white dress.” His second, slower perusal triggered another cascade of flutters that filled my chest and tickled the base of my throat. Maybe one of the kind doctors at the picnic could perform an impromptu checkup, because my internal organs were clearly malfunctioning. “Who are you and what have you done to Red?”
“It’s called a versatile wardrobe. You’d know if you had taste.” I returned his scrutiny with a pointed one of my own, though in hindsight, that was a bad idea.
A short-sleeved green shirt stretched across the muscled ridge of Josh’s shoulders and offset his tan. His jeans weren’t tight, but they were fitted enough to show off the long, powerful lines of his legs, and he’d tamed his normally tousled hair into a neat coif. That, combined with his aviators, exuded an Old Hollywood movie star during a casual day out on town vibe that was more appealing than it had any right to be.
“Versatility doesn’t equal taste.” Josh placed a hand on the small of my lower back and guided me into the park. Tingles gathered at the base of my spine and radiated outward until they blanketed every inch of my skin. “Even I know that.”
“Whatever.” I was too distracted by the traitorous tingles to formulate a better comeback. “You’re one to talk about taste. Look at the painting in your bedroom.”