Page 232 of The Rules
Julian looked back at her, and something colder settled behind his eyes. Sharper. Calculated.
"Fear strips away the lies we wear," he said softly.
Then he leaned in.
Closer.
Too close.
His breath ghosted her lips. She froze. Her breath caught.
Then— a flick of his tongue.
He licked his bottom lip slowly. The movement was deliberate, obscene in its restraint. And when he reached the corner of his mouth—he didn’t stop.
His tongue brushed her lips.
Just barely.
So soft, she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined.
Her eyes widened. Pulse stuttering.
Julian pulled back a fraction, eyes locked on hers.
"There it is," he murmured, low and satisfied. "Now you're paying attention."
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t need to.
"See?" he whispered, voice like heat curling low in her stomach. "Isn’t it beautiful? What fear does to us?"
"I've never seen you like this," he added, voice low, velvet with a razor underneath. "Not really. You've always worn that control like armor. But now..."
He studied her, letting the words settle in the air.
"Now you're stripped bare. And you know what? You're magnificent."
"Fear's not bad," Julian continued. "It keeps you alive.
It hones you. Sharpens the edges."
"But if you let it own you?"
He smiled. Small. Intimate.
"It'll eat you alive."
Then, just as suddenly as he came, he leans back.
The space between them felt like whiplash.
The absence of his touch a fresh kind of violence.
Her lungs burned as air rushed in, filling the void his presence had created. Her throat ached from the phantom pressure of his fingers, skin tingling where he'd touched her.
Her fists clenched at her sides. Her vision swam, mind screamed. Every muscle in her body trembled with the aftershocks of his proximity, nerves firing in confused, chaotic patterns.
