Chapter 150
Nora's POV
I woke to warmth and a familiar scent that made me instinctively burrow closer. For a moment, still caught between sleep and consciousness, I thought I was dreaming. The solid chest beneath my cheek, the arm wrapped securely around my waist, the steady heartbeat thrumming against my ear—it all felt too good to be real.
Then awareness crept in, piece by piece. The muscular limbs tangled with mine. The slight ache in my muscles. The distinctive soreness between my legs.
Oh God.
My eyes snapped open. I was lying half on top of Julian, my leg thrown across his hips, my head pillowed on his bare chest. His arm held me firmly against him even in sleep.
And my right hand... my right hand was wrapped around something hot and impossibly hard.
Blood rushed to my face as I looked down. Through the thin sheet draped across his lower body, I could clearly see what I was gripping—Julian's cock, fully erect and pulsing against my palm.
Jesus Christ.
I tried to pull my hand back slowly, carefully, but the moment I moved, a larger hand clamped down over mine.
"Awake?" Julian's voice rumbled above me, rough with sleep and something darker.
I froze, every muscle in my body going rigid. His voice carried that distinctive rasp that somehow made it even more devastating, and there was a thread of barely suppressed amusement running through it.
Slowly, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. Those silver-gray eyes were already fixed on me, alert and knowing, with a gleam that made my stomach flip.
"I—" My voice came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Good morning?"
His lips curved into a smirk. The thumb on the hand covering mine began tracing lazy circles on my wrist, right over my pulse point. "You didn't answer my question."
My brain struggled to form coherent thoughts. Fragments of last night flashed through my mind—the wine at dinner, stumbling to his door, the shower, his bed...
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God.
"I need to..." I tugged at my trapped hand weakly. "Let go."
"Why?" His voice dropped lower, vibrating through his chest and into mine. "You seemed quite comfortable holding it a moment ago."
Heat flooded my face. "That was—I was asleep! I didn't mean to—"
"Didn't mean to what, baby?" He shifted beneath me, and I felt every inch of him press more firmly against my palm. "Climb into my bed after the shower? Tell me exactly what you wanted?"
Each word hit like a physical blow. Memories surged back in vivid detail—me kissing him in the living room, refusing to let go, demanding he help me shower, straddling him on this very bed...
Kill me. Kill me now.
"I was drunk," I managed weakly, even as more memories assaulted me—my hands exploring his body, my mouth on his, the way I'd begged him not to stop.
"You were sober enough when it mattered." His free hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. "You were sober enough to tell me to stay. To tell me you wanted this. Wanted me."
The heat in his gaze made my breath catch. I couldn't look away, couldn't deny it. Because he was right. The alcohol had lowered my inhibitions, but it hadn't created desires that weren't already there.
"Julian, I—" I broke off, uncertain what I was even trying to say. An apology? An explanation?
He studied my face for a long moment, then released my wrist. But before I could pull away, he rolled us over in one smooth motion, pinning me beneath him. His weight pressed me into the mattress, his hips settling between my thighs in a way that made me acutely aware of his arousal.
"Let me help refresh your memory," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot on my skin. "Since you claim not to remember, let me remind you."
Each statement was punctuated by a kiss, trailing down my neck. My hands came up to grip his shoulders, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
"You remember taking off your clothes," he continued, voice rough velvet against my throat. "Lying in my bed. Wrapping your legs around me."
"Stop," I gasped, though whether I meant the words or the kisses, I wasn't sure.
He lifted his head to look at me, and the intensity in his eyes stole my breath. "You remember me inside you, Nora? Remember how you felt when I marked you?"
His hand moved to my neck, fingers tracing over what must be the bite mark. The touch sent unexpected heat spiraling through me, making my back arch involuntarily.
"I remember," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
Something shifted in his expression—satisfaction mixed with possessiveness and something almost vulnerable. "Good. Because I need you to remember this too."
He kissed me then, deep and thorough, swallowing my gasp. His hips rocked against mine, the friction making me moan into his mouth. I could feel him hard and ready, separated from me by only the thin barrier of his boxers.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. "Now," he said, voice rough with barely leashed desire, "about last night. You made quite a few promises, baby. And you owe me."
I stared at him, heat flooding through me despite my embarrassment. "Owe you?"
"Mmm." His hand slid down my body, making me shiver. "You got me worked up, took what you wanted, then passed out. That's hardly fair, is it?"
"I did not—"
His smirk widened at whatever he saw in my face. "You're going to make it up to me. Everything you did last night while drunk? You're going to do again. Sober. So you remember every detail."
My breath caught at the promise in his words. Heat pooled low in my belly even as embarrassment made my face burn.
But before I could respond, my phone alarm went off on the nightstand—7:25 AM, time to get ready for work.
Thank God for the interruption. "I have to—work—I'm going to be late—"
For a moment, Julian didn't move, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my heart race. Then, slowly, he rolled off me with a low growl of frustration.
"Lucky timing," he muttered, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
I scrambled up, clutching the sheet to my chest even though he'd already seen everything. "Julian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't." He turned to look at me, and despite the frustration, his expression had softened. "Don't apologize for last night, Nora. I'm not sorry it happened. Are you?"
I hesitated, then slowly shook my head. "No."
"Then that's all that matters." He stood, gloriously naked and utterly unselfconscious, and I had to force my eyes away from his still-evident arousal.
He moved toward me, cupping my face in both hands. "I meant what I said last night, even if you were too drunk to remember clearly. You're mine now, Nora. We clear on that?"
The possessiveness in his tone should have annoyed me. Instead, it sent a thrill through my entire body. "Yes."
"Good." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, tender in contrast to his heated words. "Now go shower. I'll make breakfast."
As he left the room, I sat frozen on the bed, my mind reeling. Last night had changed everything.