Chapter 96
Nora's POV
This time it was Vincent. "Nora? Where are you? The activities got cancelled. Most people already headed back to the lodge."
"I'm at the observation platform," I said, glancing at Julian.
"Do you need a ride back?"
I pulled the phone away from my ear, mouthing to Julian, "Are we leaving?"
He pulled out his own phone, typed something quickly, then looked up at me. "I've asked Ethan to send an umbrella. We're not in a hurry."
I relayed the message to Vincent and hung up.
"If someone comes to bring the umbrella," I said carefully, "and they see us here alone together... won't that look bad?"
Julian's eyes narrowed slightly. "Let them see. Why would that be a problem?"
"If people misunderstand—"
"Or maybe," he cut in, pushing off from the railing and taking a step toward me, "you're the one who wants to keep this hidden."
My back hit the railing. "That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Another step closer. "The person who wants to draw boundaries is you."
I couldn't answer. My heart was pounding too hard.
He braced one hand on the railing beside me, not quite caging me in but close enough that I felt surrounded. "Being seen together," he said quietly, "kissing in the rain where someone might find us—none of that should matter. Right?"
"Julian—"
"Tell me I'm wrong." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Tell me you don't want this."
I couldn't. The lie wouldn't come.
He leaned in slowly, deliberately. "We didn't finish the game. You still owe me a dare."
Before fear could stop me, I surged up and pressed my lips to his.
His hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he took control of the kiss. This wasn't like the clumsy press of lips by the spring. This was deliberate, consuming.
His other hand found my waist, pulling me closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, my knees went weak. My fingers tightened in his shirt, the only thing keeping me upright.
His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me flush against him. I could feel the strength of his body, the way his muscles tensed under my touch. When his teeth caught my lower lip—not hard, just a gentle scrape—I gasped.
"Wait—" I managed between kisses. "Don't—don't bite me—"
He froze instantly, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes had darkened to gold, pupils dilated. For a moment I saw something wild flicker in their depths.
"I won't," he promised, voice rough. "Not without your permission. I won't mark you."
He kissed me again, slower this time, more controlled. But his hands were less restrained—one sliding up my back, the other gripping my hip. Then, without warning, he lifted me onto the railing.
I yelped against his mouth, hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He stepped between my knees, one arm banding around my waist to keep me steady.
"Better," he murmured. "Now I don't have to bend down so far."
The rain pounded harder, a wall of sound that isolated us from the rest of the world. His kiss turned languid, exploratory, like he had all the time in the world to learn exactly what made me gasp.
I was drowning in sensation. The barely controlled strength in the arm around my waist.
Julian suddenly went still, his head lifting. "Someone's coming."
Panic flooded in. He lifted me off the railing with easy strength, setting me on my feet.
"Easy," he murmured, steadying me. Then he reached up and smoothed my hair back from my face.
I turned away, pulling out my phone and using the front camera as a mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes slightly glazed.
Ethan appeared at the platform entrance, placed his umbrella at the edge of the platform, and left without saying a word.
Julian walked over and picked it up. He looked back at me with amusement in his eyes.
"You're even prettier when you're flustered."
I scooped up some rainwater from the railing and splashed it on my face, trying to cool down.
"Why did he only send one umbrella?" I asked.
"Because I only asked for one." He opened it, holding it over both of us.
I looked at the slick trail, then at my mud-caked boots. "I don't think I can make it down safely."
Julian crouched down in front of me. "Get on."
"What? No. You can't—"
"I've carried heavier equipment through worse terrain than this. You barely weigh anything."
"But if someone sees—"
"Everyone went back. And even if they didn't—I don't care who sees."
The declaration made my heart skip a beat. I hesitated, then carefully climbed onto his back. His hands came up to support my thighs as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"When we get close to the bottom, can you put me down?" I asked. "Just in case?"
"Fine," he said, amused. "But only because you asked nicely."
I held the umbrella over both of us as he navigated the trail. The rain had turned everything into a blur, but Julian moved with confidence.
"Am I heavy?" I asked after a few minutes.
"No. Border training—we used to run ten miles with sixty-pound packs in conditions worse than this."
"Weren't you ever afraid?" I asked quietly.
"Every day. But when your team depends on you, fear doesn't matter." He paused. "You learn to push through it."
"You're going to be a good leader," I said softly.
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You'll be a good journalist too."
The confidence in his voice made warmth bloom in my chest. We walked in comfortable silence, the rain a steady percussion around us. I found myself relaxing against his back, lulled by the rhythm of his steps.