by Ana Huang
“Newsflash, Red, you’re not the only one who has shitty weeks, so stop acting like you’re so fucking special,” I said coldly. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement. It doesn’t mean you can call me and expect me to come running to service your needs like a fucking gigolo.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
We glared at each other, the air between us crackling with thinly veiled frustration before Jules’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her highlighter to rub her face.
My irritation fizzled at the simple action. I blew out a long breath, unable to keep up with the day’s wild rollercoaster of emotions.
“Bad day at work?” she asked.
My laugh lacked humor. “You could say that.”
I didn’t talk about the downsides of my work unless it was with someone else in the field. Nothing brought down the mood faster than saying hey, so someone died on my watch today.
But the pressure from earlier was building in my chest again, and I needed to relieve it before it drove me crazy.
“I lost someone today.” I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, unable to face Jules as I admitted my failure. “She was seventeen. Got hit by a drunk driver.”
It felt weird saying the words out loud. I lost someone. It sounded so generic. People lost toys and house keys; they didn’t lose lives. They had lives wrenched from them, stolen by the cruel hands of an unforgiving god.
But that didn’t roll off the tongue quite as nicely, I supposed.
A soft hand covered my own. I stiffened and kept my eyes on the ceiling, but the knot in my chest loosened a smidge.
“I’m so sorry,” Jules said softly. “I didn’t—I can’t imagine…”
“It’s fine. I’m a doctor. It happens.”
“Josh—”
“And you?” I interrupted, twisting my head to look at her. “What happened? Don’t give me that bull about allergies again, either.”
“I do have allergies.” Several beats passed before she admitted, “It’s possible I’ll have to…do something I’m not proud of. I promised myself I would never do it again, but I might not have a choice. I just…” A hard swallow shifted the delicate lines of her throat. “I don’t want to be that person.”
It was vague as hell, but her distress was palpable and seeped through my skin into places it had no business touching.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is,” I said. “As long as you didn’t murder anyone or set anything on fire.”
“Wow. The bar really is in hell.”
A small smile touched my lips for the first time that day. “At least it’s warm down there.”
Jules snorted out a laugh. “If only I had your optimism.”
“You can only wish.” I angled my head toward the small reference library located off the main library. “So, still want to fuck?”
Nothing turned a crappy day around like a good fuck.
Plus, between her inadvertent sleepover and the brief lowering of our guards just now, we were edging too far from the rules of our pact. It was time to bring it back to what it was supposed to be about: sex. Quick, transactional, and mutually satisfying.
Judging by the rigid lines of Jules’s neck and shoulders, she needed a physical release as much as I did.
She responded by gathering her notes and stuffing them in her backpack. We left her textbooks on the table—I highly doubted anyone would want to steal a tome on corporate law—and walked as casually as we could into the reference section.
I led us to one of the stacks that didn’t fall under the gaze of the security cameras before I pinned her to the shelves and molded my mouth to hers. It started chaste, almost clinical—a way for us to forget our troubles and nothing else.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about how exhausted she’d looked, or how comforting her hand had been over mine, and before I knew it, the kiss softened into something more…not tender, exactly. But understanding.
It was our first non-angry kiss, and it felt nicer than I expected.
I cupped her face and traced my tongue over the seam of Jules’s lips until she opened for me. God, she tasted incredible, like heat and spice and sugar all rolled into one.
I’d always been a chocolate guy, but cinnamon was fast becoming my new favorite flavor.
Her arms snaked around my neck, and her soft sigh whispered down my spine and settled somewhere low in my stomach.
“Think we can forget about our shitty week for a while?” she whispered.
Fierce protectiveness welled in my chest at the touch of vulnerability in her voice, but I forced it back down.
We were only together for sex. Anything else was off the table.
“Sweetheart, in a few minutes, you’ll forget your own name.”
I sank to my knees, my mouth tipping up at the surprise in her eyes. Our last few times had been rough and deliciously filthy, but today, I was in the mood for a different kind of feast.
I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down beneath her skirt. “Might want to cover your mouth, Red.”
That was the only warning I gave before I spread her thighs and dived in, alternating between gentle licks and long, hard pulls on her sweet little clit.
I groaned. She tasted even better down here. Most women thought men wanted them to taste like berries or lavender or whatever, but if we were eating pussy, we wanted to taste pussy. That was the whole fucking point.
Jules fisted my hair with one hand when I pushed two fingers inside her. I pumped them in and out slowly while I continued teasing her clit. It was swollen and tender, and when I grazed my teeth against it, her soft cry arrowed straight to my cock.
I forced myself to keep the rhythm soft for a while longer before I increased the pace and intensity, sucking and finger fucking her until her arousal dripped down my hand and her thighs. I lapped it all up, drunk from the taste of her. Forget food and water. I could subsist on Jules forever.
I pulled my fingers out replaced them with my tongue, eager for more.
Jules shook around me. She fisted my hair harder with a muffled cry, and a second later, her juices flooded my tongue.
Fuck.
My senses swam with her scent, and when she squirmed, trying to inch away from me, I gripped her hips and forced her to remain still.
“Josh…” My name fell out as a whimper, also muffled.
My blood surged when I lifted my head and saw she’d clamped her free hand over her mouth to soften her moans. The prettiest rose shaded her cheeks, and tears glittered in her eyes from the suppressed force of her orgasm.
My cock threatened to punch a hole through my jeans. I loved hearing her sweet screams, but there was also something so fucking hot about seeing someone hold back when you knew all they wanted was to explode.
“I’m not done yet, Red.” I gave her clit another languorous lick. “You don’t want to interrupt a man before he’s finished eating, do you?”
Jules responded with another moan.
I returned to my meal, licking and sucking and tongue fucking her with abandon. By the time I was done, I had to hold her up with one arm as I rose to my feet.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and savored the lingering taste of her. My blood pounded with arousal.
I wished we had time for another round, but we were already pushing our luck. No one had stumbled on us, but the smell of sex permeated the air, and it wouldn’t take an errant passerby to piece two and two together.
“I’ve always wanted to defile the library,” Jules mumbled, clinging to me in a way she never would’ve outside sex.
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.
Confu
sion 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.”
“What’s wrong with the painting?”
“It’s hideous.”
“It’s not hideous. It’s unusual. The guy I bought it from said it used to belong to a famous collector.”
I rolled my eyes. “It belonged to a famous collector and somehow ended up in your hands? Okay, sure. On that note, I have something I’d like to sell you. It’s called the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Don’t be a hater. Not everyone can have the same discerning eye for art.”
“Someone call Roget’s Thesaurus. Apparently, discerning is now a synonym for appalling.”
Josh laughed, unfazed by my insults. “Glad to see you’re feeling better, Red. Missed that poisonous tongue of yours.”
My smile faded at the reminder of why I’d been in such a terrible mood at the library. I’d received yet another “reminder” text from Max that morning. I could call him out on his bluff, but I didn’t think he was bluffing. Max loved toying with people, but when push came to shove, he had no qualms about throwing anyone under the bus.
When added to the stress fr
om school, bar prep, and Bridget’s upcoming wedding, it was too much. I’d cried over my textbooks in the library like an idiot and messaged Josh in the heat of the moment for a distraction.
I’d gathered myself by the time he arrived, but I didn’t regret texting him. His presence had been oddly therapeutic, and what he did in the stacks…
My toes curled.
“What about you?” I asked. I hadn’t been the only one in a shitty mood. “How are you feeling?”
A shadow crossed his face before it melted into another flippant smile. “I’m great. Why?”
“It’s okay to grieve,” I said, not fooled by his insouciance. I didn’t want to poke at his wounds, but I knew how destructive bottled-up emotions could be. “Even if it’s over something that’s part of your job.”
Josh’s smile dimmed, and his throat flexed with a hard swallow before he looked away.
“Let’s grab something to eat,” he said. “I’m starving.”
I took the hint and dropped the issue. Everyone handled grief differently. I wasn’t going to force him to talk about something he wasn’t ready or willing to discuss.
“So, who’s staffing the hospital while everyone is here?” I changed the subject to something lighter.
Josh’s rigid shoulders relaxed. “Essential staff is still there, but they’re rotating shifts so everyone has a chance to swing by the picnic,” he said. “This is the only all-staff event we have besides our holiday party, so it’s a big deal.”
“Jules!” A beautiful, familiar-looking brunette beamed when we arrived at the food table. “So nice to see you. I didn’t realize Josh was bringing a date.”
“It’s not a date,” Josh and I chorused.
A short pause followed, during which the brunette’s already wide grin broadened.
“Of course. My bad.” She held out her hand, her eyes twinkling with humor. “I’m Clara. We sort of met at The Bronze Gear.”
Recognition slammed into me. “You were Josh’s date.”
They worked together? And they were apparently on good terms, judging by the ease with which they greeted each other.
