“Why, Little Minx?” he demands, his voice low without a trace of judgement or pity at my pathetic behavior as he steps closer to me until I’m in his arms again.
He stares into my eyes, wanting the truth—demanding it really and I have no walls left to keep him from finding the shattered truth in me. “Why me, baby?”
“Julian…”
“Say it.”
If I say it now, if I confess… the control I’m holding onto with a thin thread will snap in two.
“I don’t think that matters,” I whisper.
“It fucking matters, Mia, because we matter. Now, tell me.”
How can I refuse him? When every single inch of me, broken and traumatized, the recovering beauty and the remaining ugly ruins, every cell in my body responds to him on another level unlike anything I’ve ever known.
“Because that first time, you awakened feelings in me I never knew I was capable of. With just one kiss, you touched my soul and I know that when you kiss me again, you can heal it again because Julian my soul…” I trail off, fat hot tears falling down my cheeks, my voice hoarse with pain. “My soul is broken.”
“It’s not!” he growls, his denial as sudden as the anger that clouds his handsome face. “No one will ever destroy your soul. No one has a right to even get close to hurt you. Not ever again. Over my fucking dead body.”
He means it. Every single word. I know from the way the words rock between us like they’re about to cause a tornado.
It’s like a vow cemented in the blood of our past, present and in some way, paving a path toward an uncertain future.
“I don’t want you to die though,” I mumble, looking down at where my hands are clutching his chest and he laughs.
“Baby, mortality is inevitable but even then, you’re mine. I know what it feels like to be without you. I know what it’s like to feel like I’ve lost you and Mia, I refuse to ever live like that. Hell, I’d not even survive it again.”
“The feeling is definitely mutual,” I breathe.
“It better be, Little Minx because now, I’m going to kiss you, Mia Montague,” he murmurs sexily, his gorgeous eyes dilated with arousal that makes me wet, and something else that makes my heart flutter. “I’m going to kiss you and give you back your soul because you’ve trusted me enough to do that. I’m going to kiss you because I think I’ll die if I don’t have taste of you, baby.”
Oh God. There goes my heart again, breaking all over again but this time, the pain is sweet.
“Please,” I whisper, surprised at the lack of shame to beg in my voice. I step even closer, staring at his lips with a hungry desperation that would put starving construction workers to shame. “Please, Julian.”
“Shh,” he murmurs now, then he leans down and places a kiss on my forehead, lingering there.
Then he places another kiss on the tip of my nose, my eyelids—kissing and lapping up the tears on my cheeks.
My heart is pounding, I clutch his shirt tighter, sure I’m hurting his skin beneath but not giving a damn as my anticipation builds and fucking builds like waiting for cannons to be fired.
He kisses the corner of lip and I drop them open, feeling like I’m about to combust.
“Julian…”
“Hush, baby,” he whispers, cupping my face in his hands delicately, tenderly, heartbreakingly. “Let me do you right.”
Jesus Christ.
The words that come out of this man’s mouth sometimes. He’s already like sex on a stick but when he makes love to my mind before he gets to my body like this, I can’t help but want him even more.
He places another lingering kiss on the left corner of my lips, then, in a tantalizing move, he places a ghost kiss to just my bottom lip.
An unadulterated moan escapes me, my heart breaking at the tenderness alone.
I feel the tears falling even more and then, finally, he kisses me full on the lips.
I swear on my jinxed life, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The moment our lips meet, Julian groans low and deep in his chest, holding me closer like he wants to fuse our bodies together so we can be one.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I want to climb into his soul and never leave, to brand myself in a way that we’ll never be apart.
One hand is in my hair and the other is now squeezing my ass as he kisses me passionately, deeply, with a desperate edge to it that makes me cling to him as his tongue thrusts between my lips, plunging deep and hard; mimicking no doubt, the way he intends to fuck me pretty soon, I’m sure.
I moan and grip his waist, pushing onto my tiptoes just so I can make this last and deepen the kiss.
His teeth sink into my bottom lip with enough force to make it hurt and a thrill zaps through me.
“Make love to me, Julian,” I beg. “Show me you love me. Give me that at least.”
“Fuck, I’ll give you the world, Mia.”
We’ve been through so much already and I… I think we deserve happiness now. Happiness and peace.
Is that too much to ask of the universe? I think not.
Julian kisses me like he’s never done before, making love to my mouth as our tongues clash, hold and do a sensual dance.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to start rubbing myself over his hardness like a hyena in heat.
Time seems to pass, becoming irrelevant in the best of ways. The world passes us by.
Nothing else matters and for the first time, the noises I sometimes hear in my head, the images of remembered trauma, and everything melts away as I become aware only of him.
His scent. His body. The way he holds me. Just him.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he whispers, pulling back to rest his forehead on mine.
“I thought these were bitter,” I whisper back, my eyes still shut. “From cruel kisses to bitter kisses?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he murmurs. “And I meant each one.”
I pull back to look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“It means just that, Little Minx,” he says, running the calloused pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “This mouth… I remember every word it has spoken to me. In mockery, in playfulness, in hate, in arousal… every single emotion you’ve ever felt you’ve shown me with your eyes and most times you say exactly what’s on your mind but when I kiss you, Mia, you bring everything to the forefront.”
Holy fucking shit.
How do I tell him that most times, I prided myself in being able to hide my emotions from him—from anyone really—hating the concept of being too exposed, which is why I was dubbed an Ice Queen.
“You’re such a know-it-all,” I say, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
“Well of course,” Julian says, a serious expression on his face. “When it comes to you, Little Minx, I’m aware of every inch of you and right now, I need to remind you that you’re mine. To remind you of the control you have of your own body.”
“Julian, I don’t think that’s—”
“Look at me,” he demands, the bite of authority in his voice too compelling for me to do anything else other than obey. I look up and into the pair of gorgeous green eyes I’ve seen so often in my dreams, I know them intimately. “Good. You once asked me to show you how you can take control of your own pleasure, the way those fingers danced when we were in Paris, baby, do you remember that?” he asks, his deft fingers unbuttoning my shirt, while holding my gaze. “Do you remember?”