Chapter 60
Julian's POV
"When did you wake up?" I asked.
"About ten minutes ago, I assume." Evelyn shifted her weight, the blanket slipping slightly lower on one shoulder. "Heard the door when you came in."
"And you pretended to be asleep because...?"
"Didn't feel like walking." The corner of her mouth curved. "Thought you might carry me to bed. Why didn't you?"
I huffed a laugh despite myself. "Didn't want to wake you. You looked peaceful."
"Liar." But there was no heat in it. "You were afraid I'd gut you if you startled me awake."
"That too," I admitted. "Professional hazard of sleeping with an assassin. Never know when instinct might override reason."
She made a soft sound that might have been agreement. Might have been amusement. Then she moved.
I watched through the steam as she crossed to the shower. The blanket was still wrapped around her, but it shifted with each step, revealing glimpses of skin—the curve of a shoulder, the length of her thigh, the hollow of her collarbone where the cross rested.
When she reached the glass door, I turned off the water. Didn't want to spray her when she opened it. Didn't want anything to interrupt whatever was about to happen.
She pulled the door open. Stood there in the threshold, close enough that I could feel the cooler air from the bathroom mixing with the steam. Close enough to touch.
But she didn't touch me. Not yet.
Instead, she held my gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly—so slowly it was almost torture—she sank to her knees.
The blanket pooled around her, still covering most of her body. But her face was level with my hips now, her eyes dark and intent, and there was no mistaking her intention.
My breath caught. "Evelyn—"
She reached out. Her fingers wrapped around my cock, still hard despite the cold shower. Her touch was careful, almost curious, like she was learning the shape and weight of me.
Then she leaned forward and took me into her mouth.
The world narrowed to that single point of contact. Wet heat. The pressure of her tongue against the underside of my shaft. The sight of Evelyn Valentine on her knees in front of me, those blue eyes locked on mine as her lips stretched around my cock, the silver cross swinging gently between her breasts as she moved.
I'd fantasized about this. Of course I had. But the reality was so far beyond anything I'd imagined that I couldn't process it. Could barely breathe through the pleasure radiating up my spine as she took me deeper, her throat working around the head of my cock.
My hand found its way to her hair. Not guiding, not controlling—just needing to touch her. To anchor myself to something solid before I lost my mind completely.
She pulled back slowly, her lips dragging along my length until just the tip remained in her mouth. Red and swollen. She looked up at me through her lashes, tongue flicking against my slit. "You're allowed to move, you know."
"If I move," I said, voice rough, "this is going to be over a lot faster than either of us wants."
Her mouth curved around my cock. "Then I guess I'll have to work harder."
She took me deeper. Found a rhythm that was slow and deliberate and absolutely devastating. Her hand wrapped around the base of my shaft, stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. Her tongue swirled around the head each time she pulled back, then flattened as she took me deep again. The combination was going to kill me.
Every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Every thought in my head had dissolved except her name and the obscene wet sounds of her mouth working my cock and a string of increasingly incoherent profanity.
"Evelyn." I tightened my grip in her hair. Not pulling, just holding on. "You need to—I'm not going to last if you—"
She made a sound that might have been amusement, the vibration traveling straight through my cock. Doubled her efforts. Took me so deep I felt the back of her throat, swallowed around me, and those blue eyes never left mine.
The pleasure built higher, tighter, until I was balanced on a knife's edge. Until the only thing keeping me upright was my hand braced against the tile and my other hand tangled in her hair. Until I could feel my balls drawing up tight and knew I was seconds away from losing control.
"Evelyn." Her name came out like a warning. Like a prayer. "I'm going to come—"
She didn't pull away. Just looked up at me with those ice-blue eyes and took me deeper, and that was it. That was all it took.
The orgasm hit me like a physical blow. White-hot pleasure that wiped out everything else, left me shaking and gasping and barely able to stand. My cock pulsed in her mouth as I came, and she swallowed it all, her throat working around me, gentle but relentless until I had nothing left.
When I finally came back to myself, she was sitting back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Looking up at me with an expression that was equal parts satisfaction and challenge.
"Now," she said, "we're even."
I stared at her. Tried to form words. Failed.
She stood, the blanket falling away completely, and stepped into the shower with me. Pressed her naked body against mine, skin slick with steam.
"Take me to bed, Julian," she murmured against my throat. "And this time, don't make me wait."
I didn't need to be told twice.