Page 103 of Beautiful When He Breaks

“That.”

He takes another step, placing the baby monitor on the dresser, and I hold my ground, even though every instinct in my body has noticed the distance shrinking and started sending up flares.

“You’re going to need to be more specific, Liefling,” Julian says, his voice warm and rough. “I’m not sure which thing is bothering you.”

I hate him. I don’t hate him even a little.

“The flirting,” I say, and it comes out more breathless than I’d planned.

Julian’s eyebrows lift. “You want me to stop?”

That should be an easy question. The answer is no, obviously. The answer is absolutely fucking not. But my mouth has apparently decided to become useless at the exact worst moment, so I just stare at him while he comes another step closer.

His expression shifts when I don’t answer; the teasing is still there but gentled and careful. He doesn’t touch me, and that restraint feels like a touch anyway. “Eli,” he says, and this time my name isn’t part of the game. “You can tell me to stop for real.”

That steadies me more than anything else could have.

I swallow and shake my head once. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Julian’s eyes drop to my mouth as he moves closer. “Good,” he says.

I take one step back without meaning to, and he follows slowly enough that every inch feels chosen. My back brushes the wall beside the paint swatches, and I realize too late that I’ve walked myself into exactly what he wanted. Or maybe what I wanted. That part is getting harder to separate.

He stops in front of me, one hand lifting to brace against the wall beside my head.

“You okay?” he asks, though the faint rasp in his voice tells me he’s not nearly as calm as he looks.

“No,” I say honestly, then catch his expression and add, “Not bad, no. Just… fuck, Jules.”

His mouth softens, and the heat between us gets tangled with something that feels almost too tender to bear. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

My hands move before my mouth figures out what to say. I grab the front of his shirt and pull him in.

Julian makes a rough sound that disappears against my mouth when I kiss him. He gives me half a second to lead, just enough to let me know he understands I need that, and then he kisses me back.

His body comes closer, not fully pinning me but crowding me in a way that makes my knees feel unreliable. His hand stays on the wall beside my head, his other hand settling at my waist with a firm, careful grip that somehow makes me feel more wanted because he’s still holding himself back.

The kiss turns heated faster than either of us probably expects, though maybe that’s a lie and both of us have been expecting it all afternoon. Julian’s mouth is warm and sure, his lower lip catching against mine before he deepens it, and the sound I make is embarrassingly honest. His hand flexes at my waist. My fingers tighten in his shirt. The wall is cool at my back, and he is all heat in front of me.

He pulls back a little, forehead almost touching mine. “Tell me if this is too much.”

My laugh comes out shaky. “You’re asking that after walking me into a wall?”

His smile turns slow and wicked. “You walked yourself into the wall.”

“Asshole.”

“Sweetheart.”

The word hits in English this time, soft and filthy in his mouth, and I feel it everywhere.

I grab him again, but he’s ready for me. He kisses me harder, hand sliding from my waist to my hip and slipping underneath my shirt. My whole body feels lit from the inside. I’m hard enough that pretending I’m unaffected would be insulting to both of us, and when Julian presses in close, feeling how hard I am, he groans against my lips.

That sound does something devastating to my confidence.

“Julian,” I whimper.

He goes still enough to listen immediately. “Yeah?”