Page 19 of Kisses and Paperclips

Deep and smooth, his voice carried just enough warmth to ease my annoyance and just enough cockiness to set it ablaze all over again. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, attempting to summon the patience required to deal with him. But I had to face him; nowhere to run from him now.

So, I turned.

And there he was, looking like the walking embodiment of temptation after midnight. Dark eyes locked on mine, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his mouth like he’d already seen the end of tonight’s episode. He stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, exuding a quiet confidence that felt effortless and infuriatingly attractive. His presence filled the air between us, taking up more space than seemed fair or even remotely necessary.

The worst part? He knew it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked, crossing my arms and forcing myself to look unaffected, even though my heart skipped a few beats like a scratched record.

Julien closed the gap between us, close enough that his scent wrapped around me. A warm, subtle blend of cedarwood with a whisper of lavender reminded me exactly how much trouble I was in. “Maybe a little,” he admitted softly, his gaze sliding lazily over me, lingering in ways that made my skin feel electric. “But I’d enjoy it even more if you let me help you.”

My brow arched higher. “Help?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate pitch. “It’ll be the best bad decision you’ve ever made.”

And damn me if I wasn’t halfway there.

“I don’t need help.” I blurted out, knowing good and well how ridiculous I sounded.

His lips twitched like he was biting back a laugh. “No?”

“No,” I said firmly, pursing my lips and rolling my neck to seal the dramatics.

I hesitated, and in that brief pause, my silence gave me away. Julien’s mouth curved into that slow, easy smile that had my pulse acting reckless all night. Heat rose swiftly to my cheeks, betraying me.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said firmly, lifting my chin, holding on tight to what little dignity I had left. No way I was letting him see me flustered.

“I have no doubt.” His voice softened, slipping lower, warm as whiskey and smooth as butter. He stepped closer, his scent enveloping me—woodsy, masculine, with that faint hint of lavender that wasn’t too overpowering but impossible to ignore. “But you don’t have to.”

His words settled somewhere deep, unraveling something tightly knotted within me. They were subtle and unexpected, reminding me how good it could feel to let someone else take the weight, even if only for a moment. My breath stalled, caught between the gentle sincerity in his eyes and the instinctive need to guard myself.

He didn’t push. He just stood there, steady, his presence solid enough to lean into if I dared. And for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat, I considered it. Considered letting down the walls, stepping into that quiet space he’d left open just for me.

“Serena.”

My name slid from his lips, smooth as butter, like he’d been waiting all night to said it just like that. It sent a shiver through me, a slow, traitorous warmth unraveling beneath my skin. My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag, my escape plan dissolving under the weight of his voice.

I should have walked away. Should have made a sharper exit, left no room for negotiations. But then I looked up—and damn him—his gaze caught mine, steady, unreadable, something dark and slow burning behind it. I was rooted. Stuck in place like I hadn’t spent the last ten minutes trying to get the hell out of here.

“Stay with me tonight,” he said, his voice so low I swear it hummed in the deepest parts of me. My breath hitched.

I bit my lip, thinking that would help ground myself, to force my mind back into logic and reason. But my mind? That bitch had checked out.

I was only seconds away from caving in.

I liked the way his voice dipped when he said my name. I liked how his presence felt solid, steady, like he was offering something I hadn’t realized I needed. Maybe I just wanted to know what it would feel like to stop overthinking for once in my life.

“What would a night with you look like?”

The words left my lips before I could stop them, softer than I intended, almost like I was asking myself just as much as I was asking him.

Julien’s gaze locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, but I saw it—the way his jaw ticked, the way his fingers flexed like he was fighting the urge to touch me.

He didn’t hesitate.

“It’d look like you finally striking the match you’ve been playing with all night.”

The words landed between us, thick and sure, curling around my spine like smoke. He wasn’t offering sweet nothings or empty promises: just truth and this moment.

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