Page 39 of Backhanded Compliments

Luca remembers what Octavia had said at dinner, about how Juliette is sensitive. Maybe all her bravado is simply another barrier to keep herself safe.

Barriers are a sentiment Luca can relate to. If she keeps her inner circle small, there is less chance for being hurt, disappointed, or abandoned.

She starts to say something, but when she looks up, every word in every language she’s ever known flits from her brain. Juliette’s mouth is slightly parted, her eyes clear and bright, burning with a desperation that Luca’s never been on the receiving end of before.

“Erm,” Luca says, because she’s intelligent.

Juliette snorts out a laugh, the minty coolness of her breath drifting over Luca’s face. She’s so close, close enough to kiss, close enough to devour. A featherlight touch to her cheek has her gaze lifting to Juliette’s, a little taken aback. Juliette’s fingers curve against her jaw, her thumb caressing her cheekbone.

“Don’t,” Luca breathes, and she can’t stand the fragility in her voice.

“Don’t what?” Juliette asks, her face dipping closer. Luca cancount her freckles from this close. She can’t stop staring at the beauty mark above Juliette’s lip. “Luca.” The sound of her name on Juliette’s tongue sends a shudder down her spine. “I can feel you thinking,” Juliette says, echoing Luca’s words from earlier.

Luca isn’t really thinking; her thoughts are mangled beyond comprehension. Juliette’s head tilts, and their foreheads press together.

This is the closest they’ve ever been to kissing. Juliette’s eyes are big, pupils blown black to nearly eclipse the whiskey heat of her irises. Their breath mingles, and if Luca tilts her head, their lips would press together.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Juliette says.

“Why?” Luca is so distracted by the unbridled look of wild longing in Juliette’s gaze.

“I don’t know how to read you,” Juliette whispers back, her gaze flickering, as if she’s trying to rob Luca of her thoughts through her eyes.

Luca lifts her other hand and places it on Juliette’s cheek. Her skin is soft and warm as she skims her hand through Juliette’s gold-touched curls. The tie holding them back loosens, and the silken feel of them is even better in real life than in her dreams.

“I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you,” Luca says finally. It’s the only way she can make sense of the wild pounding in her heart and the electric sparks between them.

Juliette starts to smile. “Really?”

Luca looks away, tempted to shift away. “Don’t mock me,” she whispers, curling her fingers tighter into Juliette’s hair.

“I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not,” Juliette breathes. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Luca freezes and looks back at Juliette, the frenzied beat of her heart stuttering. “Well, why don’t you?” Luca challenges.

Juliette smirks, her eyes gleaming as she tilts her head and their lips brush.

It’s barely a kiss. It’s the most delicate touch of their lips, the tremble of their collective breaths so fragile between them.

It lasts only for a heartbeat.

Luca lunges, capturing all of Juliette’s mouth. It isn’t neat or even particularly good. It’s hungry and driven by the marrow-deep need to feel Juliette against her.

Juliette gasps as Luca knocks them backward. Her fingers dig into the back of Luca’s neck, driving her closer. Luca shudders, reminded viscerally of Juliette’s hands on her burned skin.

Luca licks into Juliette’s mouth, drawing a breathy gasp from her. She lifts the hand she still has a hold of up over Juliette’s head. She trails her fingers down Juliette’s wrist, brushing down the length of her forearm and bicep before she stops on her heaving ribs. Juliette’s skin is hot beneath Luca’s hands. She kisses the corner of Juliette’s mouth, the beauty mark, the dip of her chin, the hinge of her jaw. She sucks lightly at her skin, addicted to the way Juliette’s breath hitches and her chest heaves. She soothes every bite with a swipe of her tongue.

Juliette whines and hauls Luca up by the back of her neck to cram their mouths together. It’s needy and desperate, but so incredibly hot that she rolls her hips down and presses the length of their bodies together.

Juliette rakes her fingers across Luca’s shoulders, a strangled moan caught in her throat. Juliette arches into Luca, and her free hand slides beneath Luca’s T-shirt, fingers splaying across her back, dipping beneath the straps of her sports bra.

It’s too much, these sloppy kisses and frantic touching. Luca rips herself from the velvet heat of Juliette’s mouth and gasps for air. Her head spins like she’s drunk, and she can’t find her breath.

Juliette cups her jaw and tries to reel her back in for more heated making out, but Luca grabs her wrists. “Stop,” she whispers, staring at where her hands engulf Juliette’s wrists. “I can’t do this.” Luca lets go and scrambles off the bed.

“What, why?”

Luca risks turning back to her. Juliette is tangled in the sheets, her chest heaving, and her curls spill down her shoulders in spirals. Her lips are kiss-swollen and scarlet, her face blotchy with a flush. Luca isdesperate, tempted even, to dive back in the sheets and finish ravishing Juliette. Heat pulses in her core, slick and wet already.

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