Page 40 of Ella Gets the D
I’m a hot-ass mess, in case that wasn’t clear. Not because the temperature outside is a humid borderline inferno, but because of the man in front of me, whose dick print is now a part of this impromptu meeting. You’d think I’d never seen a penis the way I trace the outline against his thigh with my stare.
Get a grip.
I’d like to.
I take a breath and channel the almost-forty-year-old I am. I’m a card-carrying PTA mom for crying out loud. How does it look to gawk at a guy who’s barely thirty—and my best friend’s little brother? I revert back to school girl tendencies with Julian, and it stops today.
My chin lifts at his smirk. “It’s not breaking and entering if the door is unlocked.”
Laughter rumbles in his chest. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
No.
He pushes off the desk and takes a step into my space. “Were you looking for me?”
PTA mom. “Nope. Your name isn’t on the door, and I’ve never been down this hall.” I stand straighter. “I was on a curiosity tour.”
“A curiosity tour.” He tries out the words and takes another step. “Didn’t know we offered those here.”
I make the mistake of sniffing the air filled with his scent. A hint of a moan and some pent-up sexual frustration slips out. Julian’s nostrils flare. He closes the distance between us with a final step. He’s only a couple of inches taller than me, but the power of his steady gaze reaches the ceiling. The intensity is at its highest setting.
Playful hickory eyes darken in an unspoken dare to test him. Luckily for Julian, I enjoy rising to the occasion.
His suit jacket lands on the loveseat with a soft thud. My chest lifts in a dare of my own. He smiles, his eyes dipping for a peek before returning to mine. We stand in place with knotted gazes until the door opens.
“I thought you went to the bathroom,” Morgan says from behind me. “Did you get lost?” My blouse becomes her focus when I face her. She frowns. “What happened?”
Julian is the first to answer. “It’s my fault. I was in a rush to get to my office and knocked into her when she was coming from the kitchen.” He eyes me, possession long gone and replaced by a neutral expression.
My stomach growls with perfect timing. “Want to grab lunch, Morgan? I have ninety minutes before I get Haile.”
Morgan considers me and Julian. My eyes are on her, and his are searing a hole through the side of my neck. See? Heatwave. “Sure, sounds good,” she says. “We should get going.”
I nod. “Yup.” Julian is now in his chair in front of his computer. “Funny bumping into you. I’ll see you Friday.”
His focus is on the screen, but his dimple pops. “See you Friday, Ella.”
Chapter 16
Julian
For two hours twice a week, the world evaporates under stadium lights. My calendar full of meetings disappears, along with the pressure to land new deals and the weight of my father’s legacy embedded so deep I can’t take a step without it.
When I get on my gear and head to the pitch, I’m Jules. Not one of DC’s most eligible bachelors because of my bank account and ability to smile on a red carpet. Not the center of capital gossip turned think piece the family publicist says is good for our brand—as if we need one in the first place.
We’re not royalty, but in Chocolate City, we might as well be.
Rugby is the steady constant that’s survived time and distance. My team doesn’t give a shit about pedigree, only how you show up for others and leave it on the field.
It became my first love after the Georgetown University Rugby Club went to the national championship. I was seventeen at the time, and I found my way to DC rugby soon after and haven’t looked back. I play pick-up games in London when I have time, but nothing beats home.
As a flanker, it’s my job to win the ball, be one of the first to a breakdown, and steal the ball from an opposing player. It’s a responsibility I’ve shared with Antonio, the other flanker on my team, for years. Yet I was the only one putting guys on their ass tonight.
My muscles still ache from playing Whac-A-Mole on single-player mode after the third consecutive tackle. Confrontation comes with the territory, and clearly that means from the open-side flanker tonight.
The asshole in question smirks at me from across the table, just like he did on the field. He always does this shit at my first practice back from a long stretch abroad. It’s tired, and so am I.
