Page 91 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
My body goes tight, blood rushing south before I can stop it. God, she’s so fucking hot.
Juliet looks over, notices me standing there, and blushes. “Oh. Hey. I figured you’d be hungry after practice.”
She gestures to the counter where two plates are waiting. Salmon with an herb crust, salad, dressing on the side, roasted potatoes, even a small cupcake for dessert. It’s too much. It’s perfect.
“You made me lunch?”
She shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “You’ve been going hard lately. Thought you might want something real before the guys drag you out tonight. The Coven mentioned you all have plans.”
She turns back to the fridge, licking a smear of dressing off her fingertip, and something inside me snaps.
I cross the kitchen in three steps and kiss her. No warning, no buildup. Just my mouth on hers, hands curling around her waist to pull her closer.
Touching her, sweeping my tongue against hers, my body sings withrightness. As if this is what’ssupposedto happen.
At first, Juliet melts into it. Her hands come up to grip my shoulders, and she makes this quiet whimper when I lick into her mouth that nearly undoes me.
Fuck, she’s so damn responsive. Immediately, images of her splayed out on the kitchen counter, legs parted as I lick her pussy, come into my head. The sounds she would make, guiding my movements, making me slow down or speed up, make me shudder with want.
I bet Juliet would come all over my chin, her citrus-scented perfume crowding the air around me, her muscles clenched and spasming. I could just push her up on the counter, right here and now, and claim her like I want to.
I think I’m starting toneedher.
But Juliet soon pulls back, breathless. “We can’t.”
I press my forehead to hers, trying to catch my breath. “I know.”
She’s breathing fast, looking up at me, her pupils dilated. “This will blow up everything. My maybe-job with the team. Your reputation. We can’t afford that kind of risk.”
I nod, even though every part of me wants to argue. “Fake fiancée. PR stunt. I know.”
“Also...” She closes her eyes like she’s trying to gather herself. “You’re you.”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah. I’m a fucking disaster.”
“I’m trying to build something here, Hunter. Something that matters.”
“I know.”
But then our mouths crash together again anyway. This time it’s hungrier, more desperate. My hand slides under the hem of her shirt, fingertips finding the warm skin of her hip. She gasps when I touch her, arching into me.
Needing to satisfy my curiosity, I skim my fingertips up her thigh, underneath her skirt. My fingers run across her outer hip and I’m right, of course. She’s not wearing any panties.
Fuckme. My kisses turn possessive, needing to devour her.
She pulls back again, shaking. “Hunter?—”
“I know.” My voice comes out raw. “I know it’s a mistake. I just... I’ve never had anyone do this before.”
“Do what?”
“Make me food. Take the time to know what I want without my having to ask. Just be kind.”
She blinks up at me, eyes wide and confused. “I wasn’t trying to?—”
“You didn’t have to try. That’s what makes it matter.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. The way her fingers curl into my shirt leave it rumpled. Her eyes search mine, and for once I don’t look away.
