Page 82 of Ella Gets the D
Julian shoves him away. “Enough. Go out if you want. I’m good.”
“El, we’re going out,” Morgan says in a huff. She takes in the half-circle of rugby players. Antonio is a few inches taller than Julian and has a bulkier frame. Viru, whose quiet appraisal of my relationship with his teammate plays out in his gaze, is smaller but not lacking in muscles. If thick thighs save lives, consider these three my life insurance.
Morgan fidgets and touches her forehead. “Sorry to interrupt.” She turns to me and leans in. “I really need to go out tonight.”
I drop my face to hers and whisper. “They can still hear you. I’m down, though.”
She grimaces and swallows against the flush creeping up her neck. “Why don’t we meet at my place around five?” I say. “We’ll eat dinner, go to the bar for drinks, and you can flirt your ass off with whoever you deem worthy.”
“That’ll work.” She hooks a thumb behind her. “Let me get this one to my parents’. Thank you,” she says with a sad smile.
I squeeze her hand. “We got you.”
At her exit, Antonio moves to get a better view and damn near twists his neck. “You know, if Morgan needs attention, she doesn’t need to go out. I volunteer as tribute.”
Julian’s slap lands on the back of his head with athwap. “That’s my sister.”
He tilts his head, his eyes still on the woman scorned who’s about to bring DC to its knees. “And I could be your brother-in-law.”
Viru’s hands land on Antonio’s shoulders. “We should go before you end up in the Potomac.”
Antonio pouts. “Ella, when will we see each other again?”
“Weren’t you just trying to pick up my friend?”
He raises a lazy shoulder. “Can’t blame a man for trying. Why don’t we make tonight a group event?” He dodges the punch Julian throws with a laugh and jogs backward. “My boys with your girls. Pick the place, and we’ll be there.”
“You’re on, Man Bun!”
Viru lifts a hand and trots off with Antonio, leaving me with a pinched-lipped Julian. He shoves his hands under his armpits and clenches his jaw, pissed off at the world.
It’s cute, the overprotective brother part, but Julian is far from cute. The man is fine at the most disrespectful level. Muscles in his wide biceps flex against his chest.
I pinch his cheek. “What’s wrong, Julie? Can’t handle a night out with two single moms on the loose?” The teasing smile tugging at my lips fades at the first swipe of his tongue over my finger. “Julian.” My body shudders under the brief connection.
Four months. Four long months since he commanded my orgasm on top of the kitchen counter. Heat from his touch strokes the tip of my finger and works its way down through my nipples to my toes.
We’ve been so careful not to cross any lines that would require legal counsel and thousands of dollars inside a courtroom. Yet here I am, about to come, feet away from my children and on the side of a field for everyone to see.
He tightens his grip on my hand when I try to step away. I wet my lips. “Julian, please.” It’s a plead through a hard swallow.
His groan is low in his throat. “I like my name on your lips. Look at me, Ella.”
I suck in a breath at the tightness in my stomach and peel my gaze off the hulking thighs that are taunting me in small rugby shorts. Quick glances across the field show the world as it should be. Haile and Jackson dash with Duke and the other players’ kids. Erica squeals at her phone next to another woman, the source of their laughter likely inappropriate for a Saturday afternoon. Even Morgan is all smiles, with Antonio staring her down with a look that would make Julian lose his shit if he wasn’t staring at me.
“Tonight. Give us tonight.”
The thread between us pulls, unraveling what little resolve I have left. “We can’t. People—”
“I don’t give a fuck about people.” He steps so close I have to put a hand on his chest. “Let me have you. Please.”
No one, not even Charles, has wanted me with such longing. It’s like he physically aches.
“My separation. I can’t have sex.” The words are small, a reminder that this distance from my ex is a temporary freedom. Not permanent liberation.
He presses a hand to my cheek. “Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
Without question.
