“You never say no to champagne. Especially when studly naked men are pouring. Mom always told me that,” Julia says, handing over her empty glass.
I get out of bed and pour, watching her appreciate my form. She looks damn good herself. Her tits are still on display, round and perfectly proportioned.
Why is it whenever I look at this woman, I feel myself losing control? I never liked that before. I never liked feeling that way with Phoebe. There’s something about Julia that gets me horny and makes me relax all at once.
I think this is what bliss feels like. I hand the fizzing glass back to her.
“She added the part about studly, naked men?” I ask.
Julia sips and luxuriates. She tilts her head back, a smile on her face, her eyes closed. I like a woman who appreciates things.
“Maybe those weren’t Mom’s precise words. Hey, I’m a writer. I take creative license,” she purrs, sitting up. The sight of her, naked and twined in the sheets, her hair cascading all around her flushed face . . . yep, there I go. My favorite body part has raised its flag, ready for another conquest. I haven’t felt like this since I was nineteen years old. We’re barely dry from the shower yet.
Julia grins, appreciating the view. “Good morning to you, too,” she says, flopping back onto the bed. I take that as an invitation and kiss her, tasting the champagne and strawberries on her lips. I trail kisses down her chest, her breasts, slipping back the sheets to reveal—
“Hold on, hold on. Don’t you believe in savoring things?” she asks, rolling away from me. Tease. But she laughs. From her, I don’t mind the laughing.
Was there ever a time when I thought the sound of it was annoying? I was an idiot.
“Lawyer, remember?” I point to myself. “I like to cut through the endless discussion and take charge.” I lie back next to her.
Julia puts her champagne glass on the bedside table and looks at me. There’s curiosity in her gaze. That and a little lust, which I’m happy to see.
“So no foreplay, Mr. Wexler? Or is it counselor Wexler? Barrister Wexler? Wexler the lawyer?” She props her chin up on her hand.
“I never said no foreplay. Far from it. I just don’t like endless talking.” I kiss her shoulder, her back . . . and she rolls away again.
Somehow, the teasing is turning me on even more.
“Well, again, writer here.” She points to herself. “My characters always start off with a little talk.”
I snort. Can’t help it. “Guys don’t really want that. The whole verbal thing before sex. That is pure female fantasy right there.”
She juts her chin in defiance. “You haven’t heard my characters yet.”
“All right.” I lie back and give her a challenging look. “Show me.”
“Huh?” She looks surprised. Gotcha.
“Grab one of your books and show me. You must have something written on your laptop.” I spy the case at the foot of the bed.
When the hell did we get that? Must’ve gone down to her room at some point. Shit, it’s not good that I’m having blackout moments.
Julia untangles herself from the sheets and pulls up her computer. For the first time, she looks at me shyly, almost like she’s embarrassed.
“Okay, I haven’t read this scene aloud yet. You’re the first to hear it.”
“You read your books aloud?” I don’t mean that to sound mocking, but she stiffens. Idiot. “I only meant that I didn’t know you spent that much time on them.”
“Wow. Condescension, thy name is Wexler,” she says dryly, booting up her laptop.
Shut the fuck up, Nate. You have a beautiful naked woman with a computer in your bed, and all you can do is give her shit?
“Asshole comes with the lawyer job. Sort of an accessory, like a Rolex watch or eating lunch at your desk.” I hold my hands up. “I’m trying to get rid of it.”
I think she accepts it, because she turns back to her screen.
“All right. So this is right before Archer and Lola have sex for the first time. I mean, like, not going down on each other. This is the full consummation.” She brushes hair out of her eyes and holds up her hands; she’s setting the scene. “Archer’s a billionaire with a dark secret, and Lola is trying to weasel it out of him. Industrial espionage, you know. But she’s falling in love with him, wants him to dominate her utterly, and he’s arousing in her all of these feelings she never knew she had, and he knows it. And he wants her to give in.” She peeks over at me. “Don’t laugh.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say, sitting up and propping myself against the pillowed headrest.