Page 78 of If This Was a Movie

I’ve never heard anything prettier than my name on Juliann Everett’s lips when she comes.

And as she pants my name with each small aftershock, all I can think is how I cannot wait to do it again.

And again.

And again.

THIRTY-ONE

JULES

I’m panting as Nate slides his fingers out of me, my body still gently pulsing with pleasure, but my breath catches when I watch him lift those fingers, slide them into his mouth, and lick them clean.

His eyes are locked on mine to gauge my reaction, and his lips tip up when he gets the one he was clearly hoping for.

My eyes move down to his jeans, a thick outline there that I really want to see. And touch. And taste.

“Now…” I start, eyes drifting from his eyes down, implying it’s now his turn.

But then, because my phone is a cockblocking bitch, the alarm goes off, reminding me Ava and Harper will be at the community center in an hour to help set up for the cast and crew holiday party.

He smiles and shakes his head.

“As much as I’d like that—and trust me, Jules, I would really fucking like that; the first time I come with you since last having you is going to be in your pussy, in my bed.”

My breath hitches, my mouth dropping with his words.

He smiles wider.

“Now. Do you need anything while we’re here?” I shake my head, still a bit speechless, and he smiles. “Perfect. Go clean up in the bathroom, and then I’ll take you to the center.”

I nod and do as he asks, moving to the small bathroom off the side of the kitchen while I hear him wash his hands in the kitchen, moving things around.

“You know, I bet this place would rent well,” he says as I wash my hands.

“What?”

“Or you could turn it into a few more studios. Or a lounge for the dancers or your teachers.”

I’m drying my hands as I step out, brows furrowed in confusion, giving him a small smile.

“That’s great and all, but where would I live?” I ask with a laugh.

“Well, you’d move in with us,” he says like it’s the obvious answer, and my entire body stills, whatever happy endorphins are left from my orgasm flying out the window instantly.

“Move in?”

“Not right now, of course,” he says casually, but my panic is so all-consuming I barely register his words. “But someday, this place will be empty. You could easily rent it out to cover your mortgage. Or expand, add another studio, or make this your office.” He looks around like he can already envision it.

I stay silent, my pulse pounding at the reality of where we are, of where he thinks we are. Eventually, he looks at me, his eyes going wide, stepping closer, clearly seeing my nerves.

“Oh, Jules, I don’t mean now. I just mean eventually. When you’re ready. When we’re ready.” He steps closer, but I step back, trying to move away from him. My heart is pounding as I realize what he’s suggesting.

“Eventually,” I say, my voice low, cold panic creeping in my veins. Eventually isn’t a maybe; it’s a certainty. He thinks that,at the end of the day, that’s where this is heading. He’s talking about a future between him and me. One where I’m moving in with him and his daughter.

“That’s…that’s where this is heading, Jules. Right?” he asks, stepping forward, and I step back once more.

The panic continues to build.

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