Page 102 of Goodbye Again
JP opens his mouth to speak, but Donavan speaks first, “If you need help with any expenses, we’d be happy to help.”
My head snaps in his direction. I’m surprised by the offer, but I’m also flustered by the use of the wordwe. As in he and I, me and him. Donavan and Julia. Two as one. I’ve liked the idea of us—even dreamed about it. But hearing it thrown in JP’s direction as if he’s a charity case startles me.
I look at JP, doing my best to display a smile that says, really, we could help.
He offers a sheepish smile and nods in response. “Take care, Jules. It was good to see you, and it was nice to meet you, Donavan.”
As I exit his car and enter the sliding doors of Donavan’s building, nodding at the security guard, JP’s expression plays on a loop in my mind. So much life happened to him. So muchheartbreak. He looks so broken and beaten, he can’t even hide the stress with a smile. And how could he? The love of his life is fighting off the impossible.
I rest my head on Donavan’s shoulder as the elevator glides to the top floor.
“He seems nice.”
I smile. “He is.”
“Not an ex?” Donavan doesn’t seem jealous, just surprised.
“No.” In part, it’s true. We didn’t officially date. But more than that, I want to keep what we had just ours.
Donavan hums as the elevator doors open. Penthouse 1 is down the hall. Twenty-three steps. I counted the first time I came because I was so nervous. Donavan is my first official relationship since Steven, and I even wondered if he’d tumble into just being a fling like JP. But there was such a courtship with Donavan—proper dates. Calls three days after, never texting. One night after we had been seeing each other for three months, we went for a walk along Lake Michigan and he paused to kiss me then asked, just inches from my lips, “Will you be my girlfriend?”
I hated how juvenile it felt but loved how endearing it was when he asked. I screamed, “Yes!” But when his lips met mine, the cold whipped through my hair, and JP flew across my mind. I kissed Donavan harder, willing the memory away.
And he brought me home that night. Butterflies erupted the higher the elevator climbed. I knew he had money. I knew he lived in one of the nicest buildings in Chicago. I just didn’t know it was Penthouse 1. I counted my steps until we reached the door. Twenty-three. And the number hasn’t changed since.
“Did you know there are twenty-three steps from the elevator to your apartment?”
Donavan shifts his expression to me as he shrugs out of his overcoat then takes mine from my shoulders. “I did not know that.” There’s sarcasm in his voice, so I smile and explain.
“The first time you brought me home, I was so nervous. I counted my steps to calm down,” I say, setting my clutch on the marble kitchen island. It’s gleaming in the low pendant light. The city is sparkling tonight—each building lit up for the night and lightly dusted in snow. I admire the view and turn back to Donavan as he unties his bowtie. He leaves the black fabric dangling under the collar as he unbuttons the top button, revealing the divots of his collarbone.
My stomach flips as he casually relaxes his ensemble and steps closer to me. Pinning me against the counter, he runs a hand over my hip and up my ribcage.
“I like hearing you say that word,” he says, voice deep and smooth like velvet.
“What word?” I almost laugh.
He pauses, his eyes looking over every curve of my face and his fingers following his gaze. He always looks at me like a prized possession—treasure he discovered in the desert.
“Home,” he whispers and kisses me.
I melt into him, pressing my body against his. He tucks his fingers in the straps of my dress, and it falls over each shoulder. The feel of the silk as it slips down my body makes me shiver, and his rough, strong hands make me ache. He kisses me harder with each passing moment, opening my lips, tasting me, pulling back, diving in. Over and over. Each time it’s like he’s tasted something new—something he can’t get enough of. I pull at his button, and he clasps my wrists, stopping me.
He draws back, a deep, almost predatorial look in his eyes. He pulls me toward the edge of the counter and my dress falls past my hips the rest of the way, landing like a black puddle of silk at my feet. A slow, seductive smile slides over my lips as Ilook at him. He’s watching me—studying me like a piece of art he wants to bid on and refuses to lose.
“Tonight’s about you, Julia.” He runs the back of his knuckle gently over my breast until he touches my stomach. The lightness of his knuckle vanishes and he palms my breast. I grip his shirt, pulling him closer. There’s something about him being fully clothed and me completely naked that turns me on even more.
“Okay, now.” I’m rushing him, and I’m unsure if it’s because I want to get this over with or because I actually want himnow.
“Shhh,” he hushes me and groans. We’ve been playing cat and mouse all night. And my mind is a bundle of emotions. Falling in love with the man in front of me, yet feeling devastated for someone I used to know. All I want is this moment. This memory. JP is right, life really does come at you fast. And sometimes, right now is all you have. I try to push JP out of my mind, but he lingers. A memory I can’t escape. A bad habit I can’t break. An addiction that has seeped into my bloodstream.
His mouth follows his hands, and he kisses and sucks and bites me until he’s at my feet. I clench at the sight of him kneeling before me, and all of my nerve endings wind tightly together. He runs his hands from my ankles to my inner thighs. The slow and deliberate movement makes need pulse between my legs with my heartbeat.
I. Need-You.
Boom. Boom-boom.
Then softly but not at all timidly, he rubs his thumb against me while moving a leg over his shoulder so he can devour me and make good on his promise. My heart pounds. My breath hitches. And JP doesn’t leave my mind for a single second.
