Chapter 113
Evelyn's POV
"Does it?" Julian's voice had dropped lower, taken on an edge that made heat pool low in my belly. He crossed the space between us with predatory grace, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that stole my breath. "Because I've been very patient with you, sweetheart. Waiting for the right moment. Watching you pretend you don't want this, don't want me."
My back hit the kitchen counter, though I didn't remember moving. Julian caged me in with his arms, his hands braced on either side of my hips, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body but not quite touching.
"And I've learned a lot from her," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. "About patience. About persistence." His mouth traced down the side of my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "About knowing exactly when to strike."
I shivered, my hands coming up to grip his shoulders. The damp fabric of his shirt was warm under my palms, and I could feel his heart racing beneath it, belying the controlled predator act.
"Julian," I breathed, and it came out like a plea.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire and something softer—concern, care, the same protectiveness I'd seen when he'd pulled me from the water. But instead of the words I expected, he said, "Go take a hot shower first. You're still shaking."
I started to protest, but he pressed a finger to my lips. "Bathroom's through the bedroom, second door on the left. Take your time. I'll feed Ghost and give you some privacy."
There was something almost tender in the way he said it, in the way he was putting my comfort before his own desire, and I found myself nodding. He helped me down from the counter, steadying me when my legs wobbled slightly, then watched as I made my way toward the bedroom.
The shower was everything I needed—scalding hot water that chased away the lingering chill from the marina, steam that filled my lungs and replaced the phantom taste of chlorinated water. I stood under the spray until my skin turned pink, until I could finally stop shaking, until the knot of fear and exhaustion in my chest began to loosen.
When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, I found the closet already open. Inside, hanging with the same military precision as everything else in Julian's life, were women's clothes. Not just any clothes—things in my exact size, my style. Soft cotton pajamas, silk sleep sets, even a few casual outfits that looked like they'd been selected by someone who'd paid very close attention to what I wore.
I chose a simple set—loose cotton pants and a matching tank top in deep navy blue—and pulled them on, my skin still warm from the shower. The fabric was soft, expensive, and fit perfectly. Of course it did.
When I walked back into the living room, I found Julian crouched near a small feeding station by the kitchen, watching Ghost eat from a ceramic bowl. The cat was making small, contented sounds as she ate, her tail swishing back and forth with satisfaction.
As I approached, Ghost finished her meal and immediately began weaving between Julian's legs, purring loudly. But then she caught sight of me, and to my surprise, she abandoned Julian entirely and trotted over, rubbing her face against my shins with the same enthusiastic affection.
I froze, uncertain. I'd never had pets—my life didn't allow for that kind of attachment, that kind of vulnerability. But Ghost was persistent, her small body warm and solid as she circled my legs, her purr rumbling like a tiny motor.
Slowly, carefully, I bent down and touched her head. Her fur was impossibly soft under my fingers, and she leaned into the touch, the purr intensifying until I could feel it vibrating through her entire body.
When I looked up at Julian, startled by this small creature's immediate acceptance, I found him watching us with an expression I'd never seen before—something warm and indulgent, almost paternal in its gentleness.
"She already likes you," he said, and there was satisfaction in his voice, as if Ghost's approval confirmed something he'd already known.
"I'll go shower," he added, straightening. "Make yourself comfortable. She'll probably follow you."
I moved to the couch as Julian disappeared into the bedroom, settling into the corner with my legs curled under me. Sure enough, Ghost followed, her green eyes fixed on me with feline intensity. She circled my feet once, twice, then—growing bolder—placed her front paws tentatively on my knee.
My first instinct was to pull away, to maintain distance even from this small, harmless creature. But Ghost was undeterred, climbing onto my lap with the confidence of a cat who knew she was welcome everywhere. She kneaded my thighs briefly with her paws, then circled once before settling into a warm, purring ball against my stomach.
I sat very still, my hand hovering uncertainly over her back. Then, slowly, I lowered it, stroking the soft fur. Ghost's purr intensified, her eyes drifting closed in contentment, and I felt something in my chest crack open—something I'd kept locked away for so long I'd forgotten it existed.
This tiny creature, this fragile thing that trusted so easily, that gave affection so freely—it made my heart feel unbearably soft. Made me remember what it was like to care for something other than survival, to want to protect something simply because it was small and warm and alive.
I was still sitting there, Ghost now fully asleep on my lap, when Julian emerged from the bedroom. His hair was damp, he wore only sleep pants that hung low on his hips, and the sight of him—bare-chested, relaxed, moving through his space with easy confidence—made my breath catch.
He crossed to the couch and bent down, one hand bracing on the back of the sofa as he kissed me. I responded carefully, hyperaware of the sleeping cat on my lap, trying not to move too much or make too much noise. But Julian deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine with languid intent, and I found myself responding despite my caution, my hand coming up to cup the back of his neck.
The kiss grew more intense, more demanding, and I felt myself starting to lose track of everything except the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way his free hand came up to cup my face with surprising gentleness. And then, suddenly, I felt the weight on my lap disappear.
I broke the kiss, looking down to see Ghost jumping gracefully to the floor, her tail held high with feline dignity as she stalked away—apparently deciding that her humans were being far too noisy for proper napping.
Julian followed my gaze, then looked back at me with a smile that was pure mischief. "Now," he said, his voice rough with desire, "where were we?"