Page 59 of Dealing Dirty
“It’s hard to say for sure, but I’d like to do something that would help me pavemyway. It’s not that I regret working at The Pound with the guys; I’d do anything for Jack, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. I think I’d just like to support myself if anything were to ever happen. You know, have something to fall back on besides bartending so I don’t leave my family struggling.”
I hesitate. Of course, this beautiful, silly man wants a family.
It’s easy to see him all dapper in his tux, with his wild hair trimmed and slicked back. The warm hue of his skin would flirt with his onyx black attire as he waited for his gorgeous bride to meet him at the end of the aisle. Dark chocolate eyes would burn for her as she said those two binding words:I do.
She’d glow with his warmth during her pregnancy, and they’d welcome a perfect cherub baby that they’d treasure and adore. One who would grow up with and admire Jack and Cassidy’s little one.
Ugh.I hate her already.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” He taps my temple.
Craving the contact, I trace his cheek, letting the slopes and contours of his face glide beneath my fingertips. I draw delicate lines up and over his and jaw, holding a breath when his eyelashes tickle my knuckle.
“I’m imagining you and your future bride,” I say simply.
He presses a kiss to the tip of my thumb, and my stomach flip-flops. “Is she a feisty Latina with curves made to debilitate a man?” Another kiss presses to my second finger, paired with a smile.
I’m mesmerized by his warm, steady breaths fanning across my palm.
Say something, Jules.
But now I’m replacing the woman. I’ve become the one who wears a tight lace gown with a long, luxurious train, walking down the aisle.
Arm locked withPapá’s, every calculated step of my glittering high heels carries me toward the man whose eyes burn for—no, devastate—me with a passion only I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.
His lion greets my lioness with a resounding roar when I step up to the altar, and I say, “Until death do us part.”
Because in this vision, there’ll be no living if it’s not writhing beneath him while his name tears its way from my throat, or kissing that goofy grin off his face every chance that I get, or standing beside him as the world crashes and burns around us.
“You look like you want to kiss me.” His whisper is hot against my remaining fingers that lie lax across those too tempting lips.
He covers my hand with his, flattening my palm and pressing another kiss to the center. I want to ball up my fist and tuck that little kiss away so that it’s nice and safe in my pocket.
The steady beat of his heart pumps against my hand when I gradually lower it to his chest.
His throat bobs lightly. “Kiss me, Juliana.”
I’m a live wire fed by his electric gaze. I want to sever the connection and push against it, but the harder I resist, the closer I’m teetering toward the heat of his mouth. Our noses brush together, and I relax my eyes closed, savoring his woodsy, smokey scent.
“I-I can’t.” My heart clenches painfully. It pounds and kicks at me to do it, to ease this aching that’s been brewing inside me for months.
His smile is soft when he says, “It was worth a shot.”
My core is throbbing with disappointment. I attempt a genuine smile, but I’m shaken as every edge of the wall I’ve constructed between us begins to crumble.
The trouble is, I’m a coward.
Even after my newfound valor, the intimacy of kissing Derrick feels like sealing a deal on a happily ever after that I just can’t commit to.
Can’t or won’t?
I fist my hands in the blanket, resisting the urge to cry out in frustration. There are too many voices in my head pulling me in a hundred different directions, showing me a hundred different outcomes.
It should be easy. I could melt into Derrick and surrender my heart, body, and soul. I know the supple satin texture of his mouth by memory alone. Which is exactly how I know that if our lips touch again, it’s going to end me.
Chapter Seventeen
Juliana
