Julian
ASHLEY AND I are kissing like the world is on fire and this is how we want to take our last breaths. I gently suck on her bottom lip as I pull her close, and she gives me a delicious moan that I’ll remember forever. I’m a kid charging through the schoolhouse doors for recess, and her mouth is my playground. Good Lord, my fantasies were underwhelming compared to this. We tug on each other, hands grasping for purchase, until I grab her ass and lift her against the wall, my erection pressing against the junction of her thighs.
The whoosh of the closing elevator doors reminds me that we’re outside my home and any one of my neighbors could find us.
With my chest heaving and my cheek resting on her chest, I whisper, “We need to get inside.”
Ashley caresses my back, her touch feather soft. “Yeah.”
She slides to the ground and rights her clothing, while I search my pockets for my keys. They’re not there, though, and then I spin around and discover them on the floor outside the elevator. Dropping them is atypical, but so is what just happened. I swipe them up off the ground and open the door.
Ashley glides inside, and I follow her seductive trail. The door isn’t even closed when we reach for each other again. She slips her hands inside my jacket, ghosting her fingers up my back as she nuzzles my jaw. I spin her around and use my lower body to press her against the nearest wall, and then I’m on her, unleashing all the want that has kept me up at night for more weeks than I’d care to admit. My lips are everywhere, trailing soft kisses over her bare shoulders, along her collarbone, under her chin.
Through it all, she whispers words of encouragement that make my gut clench in anticipation of being inside her. “Julian. Yes. God, I want this. So much. Please.”
All day. All night. Soft and slow. Rough and fast. Whatever she wants, and however she wants it. I’d like that for her. But what the fuck am I doing? Think, think, think. She’s Carter’s sister. And I resolved not to do anything that would make him question whether we should continue to work together. With all my talk over the years about not doing anything to blur the lines between our personal and professional relationships, I’d lose all credibility if I tried to pretend that dating his sister doesn’t qualify. I’m not rocking the boat; I’m upending it and smashing it into a thousand pieces against a rocky shore.
But it’s hard to care about all that when this amazing woman is nuzzling my neck and making soft, breathy noises against my ear.
She lifts the skirt of her dress and guides my hand to the thin waistband of her underwear. “Touch me, Julian.”
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
Her breath is warm against my face, and I lean into her, unable to resist the promise in her eyes. Even so, I try. “I’m not sure we should do this, Ashley. It’ll complicate everything.”
My efforts to approach this rationally disintegrate when she whispers, “Do you want me to do it for you? Would that make it easier for you to let go?” She nips at my earlobe, sending a jolt that pulses through my body. “If you want this, give me your hand.”
I’m powerless to deny her, mesmerized by the strength and passion in her voice, so I give her my hand, and she draws it inside her panties, threading her fingers with mine so we both can give her pleasure. The heat of her pussy is like a siren’s call, and my dick swells against my fly. With her gaze boring into mine, she presses against my fingers, guiding one of them to skate over her slick folds. “I want this, Julian. Just this once.”
I harden even more at the prospect of replacing that digit with my cock. But this isn’t the time for contemplation, because she’s not done with me. Not even close.
“More?” she asks.
I groan at the thought of what’s to come. “God, yes.”
She circles two of my fingers and pushes them inside, letting out a long moan that never seems to end. She’s taking what she needs, and I’m more than happy to give it to her. Her other hand clasps my shoulder, and she buries her face in the crook of my neck. “Yes, Julian. Do something. Please.”
An invisible hand slides up my chest and tightens its fingers around my throat, forcing me to choke out words that are best left unsaid. “You’re incredible, Ash. Fucking perfect. Keep going—just like that.”
She lifts her head, narrowing her eyes into slits. “You want to absolve yourself of responsibility? Pretend it’s me and only me making this happen? I won’t let you.”
Without preamble, she withdraws her fingers and stares at me defiantly. I don’t react, in part because I’m dying to know where she plans to take this. And partly because . . . I’m just dying, teetering on the edge of control, loving the feel of her pussy and tying myself in knots over it.
“Touch me, Julian. All by yourself.”
Unwilling to deny her request, I brush my fingertips against her clit, and then I slide my digits inside her, stroking her slowly. When she rocks against my hand, setting her own urgent pace, I know she wants to come like this. My mind is racing with the implications of what we’re doing. This is Ashley. My fucking fingers are inside her, and she’s so wet, they’re practically gliding on ice. If that weren’t enough, she’s generating so much body heat, she’s making me sweat, too.
I’m vibrating. Everywhere. And my toes are flexed so tightly in my shoes that I’m sure to cramp up at any moment.
“It’s so good,” she moans against my ear. “But I need more.”
I should stop, but the selfish corner of my brain convinces me that I can’t leave her dissatisfied. Seeing her this way, her mouth open and glistening, her eyes glazed and unfocused, fuels me. I use my feet to spread her wider, then I dip my leg between hers. I slide her hands up against the wall, caging her torso with my frame. “Ride my thigh,” I murmur against her jaw. “Make yourself come.”
I draw back slightly, fascinated by the way her golden brown eyes darken. Without a word, she slips her arms around my neck and lowers her body. She’s writhing against my thigh, undulating in a slow and steady rhythm, and when she appears to hit the right spot, she throws her head back, a sensuous goddess consumed by lust. “Oh God. Yes, yes, yes.”
What the fuck was I thinking? This isn’t any less tempting. Now instead of envying my fingers, I’m jealous of my quads. My mouth lands on her throat, and I suck hard. She’s sweet and salty, like pretzels dipped in chocolate.
“Oh,” she says, a note of surprise in her voice. She lowers her head and cradles the sides of my face. “More, damn you. I won’t get off like this.”
The challenge in her voice compels me to prove her wrong. “You will.”
I reach in between her thighs, push her panties to the side, and spread her lips, flexing my thigh so her clit rubs the muscle there. Then I grab onto her ass and slide her back and forth against me, creating the friction she needs.
She digs her fingers into my arms and buries her face against me, her cheek smashed against my shoulder. Her mouth hangs open as she cries out her pleasure, shouting yeses and ahs that tell me she’s coming. And it is such a fucking turn-on. I have nowhere to put my passion, nowhere to go for my relief, and the pleasure I feel from watching her orgasm intensifies as a result, as though I’m coming vicariously through her. After letting out several high-pitched cries, she collapses against me, breathing harshly in the aftermath.
My phone is vibrating in my pocket, but I ignore it, choosing to massage her thighs instead. Eventually, we straighten, and I help her smooth her dress, neither of us looking at the other. The enormity of what we did hits me in waves. We can’t go back. It happened. And we can’t go forward, either. But fuck I want an encore, and next time she won’t be riding my thigh.
My phone vibrates again.
“Answer it,” she says softly. “I’m going to freshen up.”
I pull it out of my pocket and answer, grateful for the lifeline but unable to focus on the call until Ashley slips out of the room.
“Julian.”
Unfortunately, it’s Quinn, and my lingering erection bids a hasty retreat. “Yeah, Quinn. As requested, I introduced myself to Brielle. She was friendly, and I think we’re on her radar now.”
“Good. But that’s not why I called. I didn’t send you to the awards to get on your soapbox about diversity again. Alienating our clients costs us money, and people in this industry talk, so pull your shit together when you’re in public, okay?”
“David, I was doing my job, cultivating a connection with an influential reporter—”
“I don’t care. I’m not sure how many ways I can tell you the same thing. You can think it if you want to, but don’t share it when you’re on my dime. Got it?”
And then I hear the dial tone. Motherfucker.
I drop the phone on the couch and toss Quinn out of my head. I’ll deal with him on Monday, when we’ve both had a chance to calm down. I need to address a more pressing issue anyway. How do I explain to Ashley that I let my attraction for her override my good judgment and it can’t happen again? What do I say that won’t make her feel like I’m rejecting her? Is there a way to make clear that I’m not thinking only of my own needs and wants, but hers, too?
I trudge down the hall as if I’ve been summoned to the principal’s office, and when I’m outside Ashley’s bedroom, I mentally prepare myself to knock and say what I need to say.
But Ashley beats me to it, swinging open the door with purpose and stopping short when she sees me. “Oh, shit, Julian. You could lose a man part tiptoeing around like that.”
Unable to meet her gaze, I stare down at the floor, fumbling for the words to make this right. “I . . . thought we should . . . uh, talk. You know, about what just happened.”
“Oh good,” she says.
My head snaps up at her easy, friendly tone.
She’s wearing a hint of a smile. Before she continues, she takes a deep breath, and then it all comes out in a rush. “That was a mistake. You know it, and I know it. I mean, you’re Carter’s best friend, and that’s just awkward. Not to mention he’s your client, and I know how difficult it is for you to manage both sides of your relationship. So yes, while your thigh is the stuff that nonpenetrative sex dreams are made of, let’s consider this a mutual momentary loss of our common senses and agree never to speak about it again.”
I can’t stop blinking as I try to process what I heard. Am I hallucinating that shit about my thigh?
“Say something,” she urges.
The notion that I’d be able to forget what she looks like when she comes is absurd, but lying to ourselves is one of humankind’s most widely used self-defense mechanisms. I swallow hard before I speak. “Uh, yeah. I was going to say the same thing. Well, not that stuff about nonpenetrative sex, of course, but . . . okay, we’re cool, then?”
She nods as she bites the edge of her bottom lip.
I begin to turn around but freeze when she reaches out and grazes my elbow. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got a hectic travel schedule before the reunion, so I’m going to arrange to return to New York after my next trip. I’ll head home from there.”
“So, we’ll just meet in Harmon?”
She nods.
“And we’re still doing this?” I ask.
She raises a brow. “Pretending to be dating? Definitely.” Eyes wide, she places a hand on her chest. “Oh, unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“No, no. I said I’d do it, and I will. Now that we’re on the same page about remaining just friends, it’ll be fine.”
“Right.”
I’m not sure she needs an echo, but I don’t know what else to say. “Right.”
But in my head, an ominous voice says, Wrong, Julian. Something’s going to go very wrong.