Of their own accord, my hands move from his shoulders to his back. He feels hard beneath my fingers, and it only makes me want to lift his shirt and explore his bare flesh. His groan deepens and his head presses further into my lap. I barely suppress my moan when his nose pushes against my jeans, right over the wet spot I know my panties carry.
My gaze once again lands on the band in his hair. Feeling bold, I carefully pull his hair loose then sift my fingers through the soft strands.
He lifts his head and his arms loosen around me, but his hands slide under the bottom of my shirt, touching my bare flesh. His eyes look wild and so damn beautiful as he stares up at me.
“This is wrong.” His voice is low and rough.
“I know,” I say, just as quietly.
“I shouldn’t want you.”
Although his words hurt a part of me, I know why he feels the way he does. I’m his brother’s wife and we barely know each other. I’m surprised when the thought of our past doesn’t even cross my mind.
I nod.
His fingers bite into my flesh. Not painfully, but erotically.
“I should be put down for the things I want to do to you.”
At that, I shake my head and tighten my fingers in his hair. It may be wrong of us to share these feelings, but they aren’t there because we want them to be. We can’t help the way we feel.
“No,” I tell him and slide my hands from his hair to his neck. “Because I feel the same way.”
His jaw clenches and his hands twitch against my sides, as if he’s fighting for some type of control.
“Why does it feel so right when it’s so wrong?”
His question is rhetorical, not to mention clichéd, but it fits our situation to a T, because what we’re feeling is wrong, but feels so right at the same time. Why does this have to be so difficult? Why do I feel such a strong connection to him? And why couldn’t I have been with him seven years ago instead of Theo?
Loud voices come from the front of the shop and it breaks the spell between us. With one last look of longing, he pushes back from me and comes to his feet. I blink several times to push away the haze of desire still coursing through me. My eyes avoid his as I stand.
Quietly, I walk out of the room and back to the front. My legs are shaky and my hands tremble, but I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Luca
I’M IN BED WITH MY hands folded behind my head, staring at the dark ceiling. My mind plays over the last few days since Jules has been here, and my body tightens in need. I ignore the desire to wrap my hands around my cock. I still feel like a fucking bastard for thinking of her in a carnal way, but it’s getting harder and harder to resist. She’s so goddamn sweet and tempting.
She’s gone to work with me the last three days because I refuse to leave her at the house, but since the first day after Garrett left the room, we haven’t been alone there. I don’t know if it’s by design or coincidence, only that it’s better that way. The more I’m around her, the more I want her. And I’m not just talking about her body. I want everything from her.
That day in the room after she touched up my ink was one of the hardest days of my fucking life. Being so close to her, touching her, breathing in her scent, especially her arousal, also makes it one of the best days of my life. It took every ounce of my strength, plus some, to keep from sliding her shirt up and licking along her skin or yanking her forward and grinding her pussy against my chest. Or fuck, stripping her bare and feasting on every inch of her. It surprised the shit out of me when I realized she wanted me too. I could smell her essence when my head was in her lap and it drove me fucking insane.
It’s still hard to believe she’s here, under my roof, sleeping only feet away from me. Even though the circumstances for her being here still send fire through my veins, I can’t help but like that she’s so close.
Yeah, I’m a fucking bastard.
My head jerks to the open door to my bedroom when I hear a noise. I sit up and listen closely. There’s a whimper, then a small cry. My feet are already on the floor by the time I throw the covers off. Not taking the time to put on a shirt or sweats over my briefs, I quickly make my way across the room, out into the hallway, and stop at Jules’s closed door. I’ve kept my bedroom door open since she started staying here, but I always make sure hers is closed when I pass by it. I know the temptation to go inside would be too much if it were left open.
Another small cry comes from her room, and I turn the knob and push open her door. I don’t worry there’s an intruder in the house. I know this pained cry. I’ve heard it for the past three nights. She’s in the middle of a nightmare. The first night it happened, I thought she was in pain or someone had broken in and was hurting her. When I burst into the room, she was thrashing in bed. It wasn’t someone attacking her, but her mind. Whatever nightmare she was having had its claws in her deep. It was painful to witness. Every night it’s been painful to watch, because for some reason I know they have to be of me and what I did to her. That’s why I’m here, forcing myself to watch as she struggles, even though it kills something inside me. This is my punishment.
I’ve learned that Jules is a hard sleeper. The two previous nights I had to call her name several times and gently run my hand along her forehead and cheek to wake her. I didn’t want to startle her by shaking her. She never fully wakes up, but she does settle, her face once again relaxing in sleep. I always stand and watch over her until I know the nightmare has loosened its tight grip on her. I don’t know if she remembers me coaxing her out of her dream in the mornings. She’s never mentioned it.
I stare down at her pinched face, her head tossing on the pillow, and it’s too much for me to watch. I drop to my knees beside the bed and lift my hand to her face.
“Jules,” I say softly, my voice a hoarse rasp. I run my fingers along the wrinkles on her forehead. “Shh….”
As soon as my fingers touch her skin, her cries turn back to whimpers. Her head turns toward me, and the light from the hallway illuminates her beautiful face. Her skin looks alabaster. Her thick lashes rest against her cheeks and her full lips are a soft pink. What I wouldn’t give to have the right to press my lips against hers, to soothe away her nightmares by making her forget them with my body.
When I run my fingers down her cheek, she lets out a breathy sigh, her lips staying parted. I stay this way, me on my knees and my fingers smoothing over her soft skin, for I don’t know how long. Although I’m there to soothe her, being here calms something inside me too.
My knees start to ache, so I take my hand away and get to my feet. She hasn’t made any more noises in a while, so I know the dream has left her and it’s time for me to go back to bed. When I turn away, I’m surprised when I’m stopped with a hand on my wrist.
“Don’t go.” Her soft voice reaches my ears. When I turn back, her eyes are open and she’s staring up at me. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I fight with myself, because this shit is dangerous. Being around her in the light of day is one thing, I can control my urges. But here in the dark, I’m not so sure.
“Please.” Her plea is soft and broken, and I know there’s no way I can deny her.
When I make a move to get back down on the floor, her stilted words stop me.
“Will you… will you lie with me?”
A groan nearly escapes my throat. She has no fucking clue what she’s asking of me.
I eye the small twin bed. There’s no way in hell we’ll both fit on there. Making a decision, one I hope isn’t a big mistake, I bend down and scoop her up into my arms. She sucks in a startled breath but relaxes against me as I carry her out of the room. Her hands are warm as she curls one arm around my neck and places her other hand on my bare shoulder.