No shit. Jules could put anyone in a better mood, but she left him out of his mind with lust and drowning in a sea of guilt.
Was he the only person who hadn’t known about the hidden powers of Jules Steele before this Halloween?
A knock at the door drew his attention. Brant and some of the guys were getting together to play pool tonight, but he’d told them he needed to work out. He hoped to hell they hadn’t decided to bring the party there.
He opened the door and just about stopped breathing at the sight of Jules. Her hair spilled over the shoulders of her quilted denim jacket. She looked painstakingly gorgeous in a plum shirt and black leggings, but her fake smile cut him like a knife.
“Jules.”
She thrust a handful of crinkled papers at him, that fake smile crumbling. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I found all this for you.” Her lower lip quivered, driving that knife deeper. “Darn it. I thought I could do this. Take these.” She let go of the papers and started pacing as he futilely tried to catch them. “Maybe that will help you figure out a plan. I can’t believe of all the guys on the island, you’re the first to break my heart. I didn’t even know I felt so much for you until you blew me off.” She was talking a mile a minute, pacing, hands flying. “How did that even happen so fast? One minute I’m spending time with you to help Bellamy and the next I’m hoping you’ll kiss me.”
He heard kiss me and he wanted to kiss her, to wipe away the pain he’d caused.
“Who falls for a guy when he tells her not to waste her time on him? There must be something really wrong with me, because my body never catches fire for anyone, and then along you come with your broody stare and long hair, and suddenly I can’t even sleep without seeing your stupid face. I mean, what is that? Is that what I missed for all those years when I was younger? Sleepless nights spent pining over a guy I couldn’t have? I always thought I was missing out on something better, something meaningful and exciting. But this sucks. I’m not as experienced as you are. I don’t know how to take everything I’m feeling and just turn it off. I don’t even know what all these feelings are.”
She laughed, but it was such an agonizing sound, his gut twisted. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t let her think he didn’t want her, when he wanted her too damn much.
“Jules.” He held the papers in one hand and reached for her, but she blew past him as she paced.
“Actually, I do know what this is. It’s pure stupidity.” She finally stopped pacing, but she was breathing hard, her arms hanging limply by her sides, and her eyes were so sad he couldn’t look away. And then, as if she were a marionette and someone were pulling her strings, she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’m not a stupid girl—”
“I never said you were. I think you’re smart as hell.”
“I’m not really talking to you,” she said flatly. “I was talking to myself.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for losing my cool. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty because of my stupid crush. But I am going to take what I’ve been thinking about since you got back to the island, and then I’m going to leave and we’ll go back to being…” Her brows knitted.
“Friends?” Why did that word gut him?
“Yes, but we weren’t this close before, so we’ll go back to being whatever we were.”
She stepped closer, her hands curling into fists, as if she were steeling herself, but for what, he had no idea. She closed her eyes and went up on her toes, pressing her lips to his in the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced. Her eyes fluttered open as she sank back down to her heels, leaving him struggling with the emotions springing up inside him as if they’d always been rooted there, waiting for that kiss to come alive.
“Goodbye, Grant.”
She headed for the screen door, and his mind caught up to his body. He dropped the papers and grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her into his arms. “If this is all we’ll ever have, then I want the kiss I’ve been thinking about, too.”
He lowered his lips to hers, hovering in the space between taking and giving, allowing her to retreat if she wanted to. But she clutched his shirt with both hands and went up on her toes, kissing him more aggressively, giving him the green light he needed. He crushed her to him, his tongue delving, searching, sliding over her teeth and along the roof of her mouth. He wanted to know what every speck of her tasted like. Flames ignited beneath his skin, burrowing deep inside him. He fisted one hand in her hair as he’d fantasized about doing too many times to count. Sliding his other hand down her spine, he pressed her tighter against him, grinding into her, wanting her to know what she did to him. Her sexy, greedy noises made him want to possess all of her, to memorize her taste, her scent, the feel of her body. She felt fucking incredible. He kissed her harder, gyrating against her softness, and she was right there with him, moaning and writhing. Man, he loved that. He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her inside, but he knew he shouldn’t, and he reluctantly tore his mouth away, soaking in the flush of her cheeks and the slickness of her lips.
She clung to him like a lifeline, her entire body trembling, and he held her tighter, wanting to protect her, but the only thing she needed protecting from was him.
“Wow,” whispered from her lips as her eyes fluttered open. “I’m storming out of here as soon as my legs start working again.”
Her words were breathy and needy, and she was so damn honest, he spoke without thinking. “What am I doing?”
“I don’t know, but can you do it one more time?”
“God, Pix, you’re killing me.” He would probably go straight to hell, but he was powerless to resist her, and his mouth came ravenously down over hers. Her hands dove into his hair, and she arched against him, sending heat straight to his cock. He intensified the kiss, demanding and possessive. Kissing Jules was nothing like kissing as he knew it. It was raw and passionate. Exquisite perfection.
She moaned, bringing him back to reality.
What the hell was he thinking? He had no endgame with Jules. He had no game at all with her, because their emotions were as real as the sun was hot. He could feel the pieces they’d shared of themselves twining together, weaving a bridge between them—one that he wanted to sprint across to her and burn behind him so there was no turning back.
But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to her. She deserved promises of tomorrows, next months, and future years, none of which he could give her.
He forced himself to pull back before it was too late, but the sight of her lustful eyes and sweet face had him brushing his lips over hers again, whispering, “Jules, I can’t do this to you.” He drew back just enough to keep himself from kissing her again. “You’re the type of girl a guy should worship. The kind he takes home to his parents and makes future plans with. You should be spreading your happy dust over a guy who has something solid to offer you. I can’t even tell you where I’ll be in a month, Pix. Is that what you want? Some guy who’s trying to find his way without a clue of how long it’ll take or where he’ll end up?”
“I don’t know,” she said sadly. “I only know that I want you.”