Page 93 of Alive At Night

“Sit,” Julian commanded, pointing to the bed.

I sat.

And then I watched as Julian shrugged off his tux jacket and tossed it on top of the dresser. Without it, his muscles tensed through his white dress shirt as he knelt before me.

I held my breath, not releasing it until Julian picked up my foot. His fingertips brushed lightly over my bare ankle as he unbuckled my heel and slipped it off. When he moved to take off the other shoe, I snuck my phone out and took a picture.

“What are you doing?” Julian muttered without taking his attention away from my foot. His fingers seemed to move higher this time, up the back of my calf and down again.

“Photographic evidence,” I said, trying not to focus too much on how heat consumed me with each of Julian’s touches.

“Photographic evidence?” he repeated.

“For Gemma when she asks if you were nice to me this weekend.”

Julian sighed as he stood and pulled me up with him. “Don’t take a picture of the next part, Daisy.”

Something about how he said it, about how his voice washed over me, made my breath hitch.

“Why not?”

“Because my sister doesn’t need to see a picture of me taking your clothes off,” he grunted.

My heart leaped into my throat, my mouth running dry. But it only lasted a second before Julian added, “Now, turn around so I can unzip that dress and get you into those ridiculous matching striped pajamas of yours.”

“My pajamas are adorable, thank you very much,” I said breathily, twisting so Julian could unzip me. I felt his fingers fumble a little with the eye hook at the top of my dress before the fabric around my bodice started to give way, loosening.

“You’re right,” Julian said, voice husky.

I held on to the front of my dress to keep it from falling while carefully spinning to face him again. Julian’s taut expression took me in slowly before he took one step back and then another, his back hitting the wall with a thump. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, eyes surveying me from top to bottom while he did.

It hit me that this was probably the last time I would experience Julian looking at me like that. Taking off my shoes and unzipping my dress would be his last little acts of kindness before returning to the real world where we didn’t exist like this.

“I’m not ready.”

It took me a second to realize I had said it aloud.

Julian’s brows furrowed.

“Ready?”

I tried to take a step forward, but I stumbled over my feet, and Julian caught me in his arms. God, why did it have to be so nice being in these arms? Why couldn’t it have been unbearable so I wouldn’t have to miss it? It would be easier if I could continue to hate him in peace, wouldn’t it?

Blinking up at Julian, I gave my truest confession. “I’m not ready for it to be over.”

He swallowed, his throat working as his eyes danced all over my face. But he didn’t speak.

“Can we stay like this until morning?” I whispered, my tongue too loose to hold it in. I didn’t want the bubble to pop yet. I liked it too much. All the little fake moments were so much better than the real ones.

Julian tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and then trailed his finger beneath my chin, tipping it up.

“Sure, baby,” he rasped. His gaze dropped to my mouth and then back to my eyes, burning me up inside. “We can stay like this as long as you want. Whatever you want.”

Thank God.

I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and did what I’d wanted to do all night, every time he looked at me like he was looking at me now. I did the thing that people who were dating did. And even if it was fake, even if it was our last minutes of pretending, I wanted to spend them feeling something.

I wanted to spend them kissing Julian Briggs.

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