Page 4 of Kisses and Paperclips

“Smooth.”

“What? I actually want to hear what you have to say. And—” he leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with mischief— “you kinda owe me.”

That did it. I laughed, full and unrestrained.

“Owe you?” My brows shot up. “Yeah, see, that right there told me everything I needed to know.” I spun on my heel, ready to leave him right where he stood.

“Hey,” he called after me, feigning offense. “I put myself at risk playing knight in shining armor.”

I tossed a look over my shoulder. “Please. I didn’t ask you to do all that. You just had to shut up and get kissed.” I smirked. “Far as I’m concerned, you got the sweet end of the deal.”

His eyes danced with something unreadable, something that flickered between amusement and something else I couldn’t quite name. He was enjoying this.

And worse? So was I.

Normally, a man playing this kind of game would irritate me, but I couldn’t lie—not to myself, and certainly not to him. There was something about the way he moved, the way he watched me, that made me want to see what he’d say next.

He stepped in closer—not too much, just enough for me to feel the shift in the air between us. His face softened, but the playfulness never fully left his eyes.

“That kiss,” he murmured, voice dipping lower, richer, “says you got a little of that sweetness too.”

I exhaled a quiet scoff, tilting my head slightly. “Why?”

His brows pulled together slightly. “Why what?”

“Why should I do anything with you?” My voice was steady, unreadable, but my pulse betrayed me. “I don’t even know your name.”

He studied me for a beat, as if deciding whether I was serious or just messing with him. Then his lips quirked in a slow, knowing smile.

“Julien,” he said smoothly. “And do you always need a why for everything you do?” He tilted his head, watching me too closely, too carefully. “Sometimes, something feels right… and you just try it.”

The words settled between us, low and certain, threading through the space neither of us seemed willing to break. And I wasn’t in a hurry to move.

“Serena,” I murmured, tilting my head slightly. “Maybe I have trust issues.”

Julien’s gaze held mine, steady and unreadable, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something deliberate.

“Maybe…” He let the word linger, stretching it between us like a slow pull of silk. Then, just as effortlessly, he slid my name onto his tongue. “Serena, taking a risk is exactly what you need.”

The way he said my name—unhurried, rich, like he was tasting every syllable—sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. I hated that I noticed. Hated even more that I liked it.

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how easily he was getting under my skin. “I don’t drink,” I said, not as a fun fact, but as a challenge.

His smirk was barely there, but I caught it before it disappeared. “You eat. I drink.” Smooth. Effortless. Like he was already one step ahead of me.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, charged with something neither of us had named yet, but both of us felt.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you, a lawyer?”

Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a quick response.

“Am I winning?” he asked, his eyes darkening, making something deep inside me clench.

I tilted my head. “Maybe”

He steps closer, the subtle warmth of his cologne teased the air between us. The scent hits me before his words—deep and earthy, with a warmth that wraps around me like a well-worn leather jacket on a cool night. There’s a subtle hint of something fresh and unexpected, maybe lavender, softening the intensity just enough to make it inviting. It’s bold but not overpowering, the kind of fragrance that doesn’t announce itself but stays with you, slipping into your memory like a secret.

It fit him—confident, strong, and just a bit dangerous. The kind of scent that made me inhale a second time, trying to lock it into memory. As first impressions went, this one lingered in all the right ways.

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