Page 54 of The Last Sunrise

Julián.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Julián! You came!” I can’t hide my excitement at seeing him, though there’s a chance he came to crash the event, to protest more.

It kills me, but I wait a moment before I say anything else. His chin is lowered, and he looks at me through drawn brows. I sense shame in his brown eyes. My heart pounds against my rib cage, attempting to break free. Pressing my fingernails into my hands, I wait for what feels like an eternity before he speaks.

“I’m sorry, so fucking sorry,” he finally says, pulling me into his arms and lifting me off my feet.

I have so much to say to him, so many apologies and attempted explanations to give and demand, but right now all I can focus on is the way his arms wrap around me as if he hasn’t seen me in a month, as if he hasn’t been able to breathe without me, as if he hadn’t been so brutally dismissive just hours ago. He squeezes so tightly that it’s hard to breathe, but I would give my breath for Julián, again and again.

“I’m so unbelievably sorry, Ry,” he says against my hair, gently petting my head with one arm, slightly loosening the grip on my body. My feet are still off the ground as I bury my face in his neck, smelling the warmth and salt of the sea on his skin.

“Julián, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is my mom’s company’s fault, my fault,” I tell him, stroking the back of his neck with my hand.

I feel someone’s attention on us, burning into our embrace, and I look up to find my mother’s direct eye contact as he continues to hug me. Her eyes narrow and I can see them piercing Julián’s back, but she simply grabs another glass of champagne from a passing tray and puts on a smile for a group of men in bright-colored suits I’ve never seen before. She throws her head back in fake laughter and I hold on to Julián. She must be tired of all the fake laughing; I know I would be.

“My dad told me about the conversation you two had, and he finally told me the whole story about them… their tragic love story and all that. And I was wrong to act the way that I did. None of this is your fault, and it was fucking stupid of me to say it was. You came here with hope and understanding that you were doing something meaningful by helping with the fundraiser for the Arts Center, and I let my family baggage and stubbornness ruin that for you. I know I’m all over the place. I’d blame it on my depression, but that doesn’t seem fair.” His cheeks flush and his eyes go to the floor.

I’m embarrassed and relieved that Mateo told Julián the truth about his history with my mom and that I confided in him. I don’t want to spend any more time talking about our families. I want to enjoy the sight in front of me, while appreciating his presence and apology. He doesn’t seem to be aware of my seizure earlier, and I’m so grateful for that. It would kill me to have him show up only out of pity.

He moves his hands to my arms to put a little distance between us, and my skin burns as his dark eyes scan me fromhead to toe. I do the same to him and, good god, he looks incredible. Even though I prefer him shirtless at the beach with water droplets falling from his long lashes and full lips, this dressed-up version of him is sexy as hell. My thighs press together, and my mouth immediately goes dry just looking at him dressed in a black button-down shirt and pants.

“I didn’t have a suit.” He shrugs. “You are… Ry, you’re… I don’t have the words… speechless,” he says, his eyes sizzling with a heat that makes me nearly break into a sweat. Julián’s hands travel down my bare back, stopping just above my backside where the fabric begins.

“I also don’t have the words,” I admit, admiring his strong shoulders pulling at the silk fabric of his shirt. “Except no suit needed.” I gulp.

“You look like the moon,” I tell him, not knowing where the words come from. It’s true though, he is bright and fenced by darkness, lonely but never alone, constantly surrounded by twinkling stars. Powerful. Strong. Everything revolving around him.

“That’s a pretty big compliment.” He smiles shyly and rubs his hand across his freshly shaven chin.

“I know how much it must have taken to come here. I thought I would never see you again. I’m so sorry for—” Julián stops me from speaking by touching his lips to mine.

“No more sorrys.” He spins me gently and we begin to dance slowly, barely moving our feet. In my entire life as a dancer, this is by far my favorite performance.

Time is an illusion with our bodies pressed together, his skillful fingers tracing the length of my spine, up and down, again and again. Every inch of my bare skin is raised, my back arched, a puddle in his arms and between my thighs.

“Julián,” I groan as he presses warm, splayed palms against my skin, sliding the tips of his fingers under the thin material of my dress.

“No panties?” he whispers against the shell of my ear.

My entire body flushes as I shake my head. “They don’t go with the dress.”

A low growl falls from his lips, and I shiver as the sound fills me head to toe. “If we didn’t have an audience, I would rip this thin dress from your body and fill you against that wall.” He nods his head toward the faux-grass wall behind us. My vision blurs and I’m not sure how I’m standing.

“Julián,” I beg him, to either stop teasing me to near death or to give me some sort of release. I can barely handle the ache low in my belly, the pool of wetness between my thighs, now dripping down the tops of them.

“Julián, what? What do you want, Oriah?” His mouth presses against the base of my jaw, just where it meets my ear.

“You. I need you.” I forget about the ballroom full of people and slide his hand to the front of my dress, pressing the silk against the pool there.

“Fuck.” He circles a finger around the wet cloth and brings it to his lips. I nearly combust.

I can’t take it anymore. “My room. Now.” I yank him by the hand, and we crash into the elevator mouth on mouth, tongues touching every exposed inch of each other’s mouths, necks. When we reach my floor, Julián lifts me up, my dress riding up at my waist as I tell him through ragged breaths the number of my room.

“I can smell you from here. Fuck.” He runs his nose along the side of my cheek, my neck, my collarbones, as myshaking, anxious hands find the little circle chip of a key and press it against the lock. It opens and we barrel in, the door slamming behind us.

Julián takes me immediately to my bed, not gently, but with a ravishing hunger as he yanks my dress up and splays my thighs open; the breeze in the room makes me catch my breath as it touches my exposed, sensitive core. I clamp my hand over my mouth as his tongue swipes across me, my legs kicking and heels digging into the bed as he sucks on me, his tongue and lips taking turns, his growling appreciation for my uncontrollable thrashing as I grip the blanket in one hand, squeezing so hard it feels like my hand will shatter. He continues to lick and kiss the apex of my thighs, his fingers replacing where his tongue and lips were, slowly pumping in and out of me, bringing me just to the edge, then pausing before I slide over it. He continues to devour me in a calculated yet famished way.

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