"Ladies first." He gestures to the table behind him.
I pass him and, reaching the pool table, I rest my forearms on the edge of it. With careful aim, I lunge my cue stick forward and send the cue ball crashing through, balls scurrying in all directions, three finding their pockets.
"Impressive," he says, from somewhere behind me, though I could've sworn he was off to my left just seconds earlier. "You landed two solids. Looks like I'm stripes."
I move around to find my next target and as I lean forward to make a strike, a hand lays on the table, centimeters from my waist. The surprise makes me miss my shot, and though I hit the cue ball, it jerks forward only an inch or two.
My skin prickles with awareness as I turn to face Giles. He's standing right there, face barely six inches from mine. So close I swear he's about to kiss me. And I'm not sure if I'd stop him.
"Can I tell you something without you getting offended?" he asks, voice just loud enough to reach me.
I don't understand how he could say anything that could offend me when he's standing so close with that look in his eyes. But I swallow, and say, "Yeah."
His gaze moves down my face, to the space between us, to my body, and I hope he doesn't notice I'm breathing just a little harder than before.
"You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
He looks and sounds so genuine that I couldn't make a joke if I wanted to. Lost for words, I bring my lower lip in between my teeth. And now he's looking right at my mouth.
My head spins. The air is just so thick all of a sudden and my thoughts are too fast and too slow at the same time.
"Thanks," I say, looking down at the way his arm stretches out beside me, his grip closing over the edge of the table. If he set his other arm the same way, I'd be trapped between them.
And I realize I'd like that, a lot.
But he doesn't cage me in. Instead, he brings his hand up to my face and runs a finger over the edge of my forehead, collecting my hair and tucking it behind my ear. He's never touched me before. His fingertips grazing my face make my heartbeat go off rhythm.
"I came here for a reason," he says under his breath, almost to himself, "and now I can't remember what that reason was."
I feel the same way. My cue stick is still in my hand, the only reminder we came here to play pool, but suddenly the thought of that game isn't as enticing as standing here so close to him. His hand lowers from my face to my arm, caressing my skin along the way, triggering trickles of sensations that spread across me. His touch is foreign and yet strangely familiar, as though my body has imagined this moment even while my mind has refused to consider it.
"I get the weird feeling you're hiding your body," he says. "That you don't feel comfortable in your skin but…"
"But what?"
He shakes his head. "But I've seen your body, Julia. And I swear, I can't stop thinking about how it'd feel under mine."
Oh my God.
Did he just say that? The room warms ten degrees in an instant.
"Giles…" I trail off, unsure of what I want to say.
Stop talking. Keep going. Touch me.
My thoughts are turning me in a dozen directions, making it hard for me to know for sure what to say, what to do. My eyes are on his lips, despite not wanting him to spy just how badly his touch and proximity affect me.
"I keep wondering if the curiosity is mutual," he says, hopeful.
"I can't say I haven't thought about it," I hear myself respond in a voice I barely recognize.
I've never seen this look in his eyes. It's like he's been pulled under a spell, lids lowering, words slow. His hand comes up again and he brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it slightly down. I let him.
Desire, hot and thick, spreads wider across his face with each passing second.
"And this mouth? I think about it a lot, too. What it would taste like…what it would feel like..."
My lips part farther as I exhale in surprise.
Is this happening? I wait for the inkling to pull away from him, to stop this before it goes further. But no part of me wants this to stop. The heaviness between my legs makes every other thought in my mind seem so small and trivial. And Giles? I bet he's anything but.
He brings his face closer and I've resigned to let him kiss me. But instead, he leans into my neck, just behind my ear, and presses his lips there. I close my eyes, unprepared for the way my nerve endings go wild.
"Do you like this?" he asks, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin he just kissed.
I don't think. I just nod. Because I'm breathing him in and he smells like sun and salt and things that would melt on my tongue. He's never come at me this way, so direct. And I find I have no weapons in my defense. Every inch of my body surrendering in turn to the idea of letting him touch me.
He continues to lay kisses along my neck, leaving behind an ache that grows increasingly hard to ignore. His fingers play with the end of my shirt, hiking it up to reveal the top of my shorts as his hand slides under my shirt and across the skin of my back, holding me.
His other hand moves up my side, fingers grazing the lower edge of my bra before heading down again. Between his touch and his kisses on my neck, I can't take how desperately I want him. The sparks of energy shooting through make it difficult to stand.
He unbuttons my shorts and cool air brushes my lower abs as my underwear becomes visible. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but he's holding me close to him, with just enough room for his rough, warm hand to flatten against the exposed skin of my lower stomach and slide downward, over my shorts and between my legs. His palm hooks there, holding me firmly. The delicious pressure from his hand makes me bite down hard on my lip.
"Fuck," he whispers, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed but his expression is strained and tortured. "Please," he says in a tone I've never heard from him before, a feral sound that tugs between my thighs. "Tell me what gets you off and I swear to God I'll do it. I'll give it to you in ways you never knew you wanted. I'll reach you in places no one else will. You'll scream things you never knew you could."
He says these things as his palm strokes me over my shorts and I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips, can't help but tilt my hips forward in invitation. The thought of where this could lead no longer fazes me. All I know is how badly I'm aching, how strong the burn is.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
WHEN I first started, I had no idea how much work and how many people it would take to publish a novel. With each release, it seems as though I've got more people to thank. I'm grateful for this. It's a testament to the many incredibly talented and supportive people in this industry.
To my readers, you are the reason I keep hitting publish. I'm in awe of how you continue to embrace my stories and my evolution as a writer. You hang on through all the slow-burn and angst, and trust my vision to the end. There's so much about the stories and characters that I never explicitly say in my writing, and yet you pick up on it all. You're sharp and that makes me proud as hell. Thank you for reading.
The Lovelies in my reader group—thank you for embracing my weirdness and whims and allowing me to be mys
elf.
All the bloggers and early readers who helped share and promote this novel—your dedication is inspiring. Thank you so much for all you do for books and readers. Most of all, thank you for taking a chance on my book when the options are so plentiful.
To my publicist, Heather with L. Woods PR—You're one of the hardest working women in this biz. I'm so grateful to be able to collaborate with you in getting eyeballs on my releases. Also, I just freaking love you!
Lea Burn—Are there any words that could describe our editing process? It's magic and chaos and in the end, my stories are better because of you. Thank you for working so hard and caring so much.
Kelli Spear—You were a lifesaver for this novel. Thank you for your proofreading, but mostly for your sharp eye on what was missing.
Andrea Lefkowitz—The dedication to this novel speaks for itself. You are amazing. I couldn't have done any of this without you. Your feedback helped shaped this story to be the best it could be. But aside from that, you've been a constant source or support and strength over the past year. Now if you could just accept pineapple pizza, we could finally be friends.
Staci Brillhart—Not only did you open my eyes to the fact that the original cover for this novel was completely wrong, you took time out of your busy schedule to help me get it right. I can't even explain how much this meant to me. I admire you so much for your tenacity and confidence. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for lending me a helping hand.
All the author friends I've made along the way have inspired me through their own hustle and accomplishments. I love you all for being talented, progressive, intelligent, and fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire. In particular I'd like to thank my two author-wives Courtney Houston and Nikki Sloane—who put up with my daily struggles, rants, and insecurities, and who motivate me daily to be better. Thank you to Danielle Pearl, Alta Hensley, Kandi Steiner, and Len Webster—my Australian soul sister—for all your support with this novel.
To my family—my muggles…you're always in my corner. You not only cheer me on, you hold me up. I love you guys.
And last…but never least, my wonderful husband. It takes one hell of a man to be with a novelist. My head's always in the clouds, the deadlines never end, and the mood swings…oh, the mood swings. You're my compass, guiding me through it all. You hold my hand and my heart. You're everything. Every single word.
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