CHAPTER 33
Julia
LIGHTNING FLASHES ACROSS the sky, and rain pummels the floor-to-ceiling windows of my condo. I’ve made myself a cup of coffee and sit curled in a tight ball on my
couch. Watching. Thinking.
Okay, more like spiraling.
Seeing Emmett on the bull today stirred so many feelings inside of me. Terror.
Pride. Anxiety. Awe. Dread.
And then the heart-stopping realization that I’ve gone and done what I’ve always sworn I wouldn’t: gotten attached to a fucking cowboy.
Which made watching Evelyn bound toward him like he was hers downright painful.
I fled before they could even get to the on-site elimination ceremony. It was unprofessional of me but… instinctual. I needed to get the fuck out of there.
My obsession with watching everything on set had backfired spectacularly and left me feeling like a green-eyed monster.
Between the emotional connection we’ve forged and the single orgasm he’s given me, I am feeling very, very attached to Emmett. Which is stupid considering I know why he’s on this show. I’ve encouraged him to keep it up. I want that payday for him.
But I also want him for myself. And based on how I felt tonight, wanting that is only going to end up hurting me.
A buzzing sound fills my unit. Someone is calling up.
With a heavy sigh, I pad toward my door and press the button to speak into the
intercom. “Hello?”
“Jules. It’s Emmett.”
My heart clenches. He sounds distraught.
“Hey.” I don’t know what else to say to him right now. He hurt me, but he did nothing wrong. Which is a mindfuck to make sense of.
I know they redid the kiss. I know that’s the job. That’s the show. That’s what he—and I—signed up for.
But I couldn’t watch. I slipped out of the arena and drove home to lick my wounds privately. I wanted space. Quiet. Time to pull myself together. Emmett must have needed it, too, because I haven’t heard from him all night.
No call. No text. Just hours alone with a burning sensation in my gut from
imagining him and Evelyn together.
“Can I come up?”
“Emmett.” I sigh his name, looking around my unit as butterflies erupt in my chest at the sincerity in his voice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Please.” My heart squeezes. “I just need to see you.” His rough, confident voice cracks on the word you and tears spring to my eyes.
I always thought caring about someone would feel like constant bliss, but this feels more like perpetual suffering.
I know he is, too, though. And I hate the idea of him suffering alone.
I guess I’d rather we suffer together. Everything always feels better when I’m with him.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing the button to unlock the front door against my better judgment.
I wait outside my door for him, heart beating faster when I hear the soft ding of the elevator arriving on my floor. But when he turns the corner, it seizes in my chest.
Emmett is soaked from head to toe. His hair drips onto his cheekbones, and his white T-shirt has gone translucent, his jeans heavy and dark.
He looks absolutely stricken.
I lay one hand against my throat and squeeze, trying to press away the lump that’s formed there at the sight of him. “Emmett, where have you been?”
“Walking. Thinking. Hating myself.” His voice sounds dejected, and he can barely meet my eyes as he trudges toward me. “Jules… I just… I needed…” He shrugs, glancing away for a beat as he wipes a palm over his mouth. When his eyes meet mine, my knees go weak. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
My throat feels tight, but I try to soothe him through the choking sensation.
“You can always come here. It’s okay. I know you have to play along for the
cameras. It was just a kiss, so—”
“A kiss?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod once. “With Evelyn?” He studies me with an intensity that’s difficult to endure. I offer him a wobbly smile. “Don’t worry. I didn’t stick around to watch.”
He tips his head back to gaze at the ceiling, exasperation lining every motion as he takes a raspy breath. My gaze catches on a droplet of water. I watch it trail down from a soaked strip of hair, over his square jaw, before tracing the bump of
his Adam’s apple down his throat.
I want to lick it.
I close my eyes for a bit, hating my internal monologue.
“You should have stuck around,” he says, drawing my attention back to him.
“Because if you had, you’d have seen me tell Richard where to stick it. There was no kiss. Jules, are you kidding me? I’m consumed by you. I can’t even think about anyone else. There was only a blowup on set and me fucking it all up.”
He approaches and stops before me. I stand my ground, blocking the entryway to my condo, still not sure it’s in our best interest for me to let him in. Emotions are running too high. We’re standing far too close to a dangerous precipice.
But when he lifts his tortured baby blues to my face, all my resolve crumbles.
“I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, Jules. You’ve brought a brightness to parts of me that have been forgotten in the dark for years.”
My eyes fill, and I reach for his elbow, giving him a tender squeeze. “Oh, Em.”
“I can’t shake you, Jules. No matter how hard I try. I wake up every morning and promise myself I’m going to stay away. I know I’m no good for you. But this feeling? It’s fucking inescapable.”
He claws at his own chest. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop looking for you. I can’t stop wanting you. Images of you fill my brain every second of every day. You’re everywhere. Like a song stuck in my head, even though I don’t want you there. I feel like I’m living in a fever dream that I can’t fucking escape.”
He’s breathing hard now, chest heaving. Eyes glistening.
And everything he’s said makes perfect sense.
“I know how you feel,” I say simply, getting lost in the tumult of his eyes.
He steps closer, pushing me back into my unit and kicking the door shut behind himself.
The apartment is quiet except for the steady rhythm of our breathing. His eyes hold mine—soft, searching, like he’s trying to memorize every line, every flicker of
emotion behind my gaze.
“I need you, Julia.”
I nod over the lump in my throat. All I want to do is take care of him. Make him feel better. Show him that I need him too. Get him out of these soaked clothes and make him feel warm and sure again.
I reach for him, surrendering to instinct. His breath fans across my chest as I pinch the hem of his sopping shirt. Tentatively, I peel it back, lifting the cold, wet cotton while letting one hand slide over the hot, taut skin beneath.
He sighs beneath my hand, his muscles softening in relief. His head drops in my direction as I lift the fabric higher, tugging it free and over his muscled arms.
I take in every beautiful inch of him, licking my lips to keep my mouth from going dry at the sight.
He kicks his shoes off, which only serves to urge me forward. My fingers find his belt, the buckle jangling as I undo it and let it fall to the side. Then it’s buttons.
A waistband. A tug.
I fall to my knees before him, peering up at his face. Strong brows, square jaw, baby blues full of longing.
My next tug is more desperate as I work against the wet denim. His control frays, and he pulls me back to standing, eyes burning with need.
“Lose the shirt,” he demands softly. And who am I to refuse him?
He steps out of his jeans as I reach down to grip the hem of my oversize sleeping shirt. In one smooth motion, I lift it and let it fall to the floor beside me.
Then I stand before the most beautiful man I’ve ever known, wearing only a pair of purple booty shorts and the truth of how badly I need him written all over my body. Goose bumps spray over my arms, my nipples stand pert and sensitive, and an inescapable ache curls low in my pelvis.
His gaze devours me, greedily roaming every inch of my body. My heart pounds, not from fear, but from something raw and honest I’ve never let myself feel before.
Finally, our eyes meet. And we’re back to staring. Like we always are.
He leans in slowly, and when our lips meet, it’s a promise. It’s a question and an answer all at once.
I pull him closer, craving the warmth and safety his touch brings. As he slides his hands down my back, every nerve ending sizzles and ignites, a sensation I can honestly say I’ve only ever felt with Emmett. Like every part of my body melts just for him.
He towers over me. Grips me. Consumes me. He drives me backward through the space, a man with purpose, and we both know where this is heading.
I kiss him as I move, letting him guide me toward my bedroom with his body.
We clear the doorway, and the backs of my legs hit the mattress. The jolt of awareness has us both drawing back, taking stock of our surroundings. My queen- size mattress on a suede platform frame, simple bedside tables. One glowing floor lamp in the corner, shedding a dim, yellow light through the space.
“Do you want me to leave, Julia?” There’s a fragility to his voice. He is genuinely worried I might turn him away. That I might not want him.
Even now.
“No. I want you to stay.”
He steps in closer, his hands finding my face, gentle and sure, thumbs tracing the curve of my cheek as if grounding us both. “Are you sure?” he asks, voice barely more than a whisper.
I nod, my words stuck somewhere beneath the swell of everything inside me.
This isn’t just want—it’s trust. It’s hope. It’s the quiet surrender to someone who’s become my anchor.
I swallow hard, the weight of this moment folding into every inch of my skin. I want this. I need this. More than anything, I want him.
And I want him to know it.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I breathe, my voice barely steady but filled with all the certainty I can muster.
He leans in—slow and deliberate—and the heat of his lips against mine is like the first spark that sets a wildfire racing.
Our mouths meet in a soft, urgent kiss, filled with the promise of everything we’re about to give and take. My fingers thread through his thick hair, tangling in the soaked strands, pulling him closer. Desperate to feel his skin against my own.
Like he’s the air I need to breathe.
Suddenly, I’m frantic. I want more. I reach into his underwear to grip him, sighing at the feel of his firmness. The silky skin. The heavy weight.
“Fuck,” he hisses before making quick work of his boxers.
His cock springs free, and I lick my lips, stepping back to look my fill. It’s thick, steely, and throbbing in my hand.
I take us in, panting, tongue darting out to wet my lips. The air around us hums. I swear I can feel his muscular body go taut like he’s ready to pounce the longer I stare.
And then he does. He reaches up, fingers tangling in my hair and tugging gently to draw my mouth upward for his taking.
The blunt head of his length presses at my hip, but he ignores it as he studies my face. His hands trail down my back, tracing the curve of my spine, fingertips skimming over bare skin with a touch that sends shivers racing down my arms.
He’s gentle, careful, as if he’s learning my body with every brush of his palm.
Memorizing every curve. Cataloging every reaction.
I press closer, feeling the hard heat of his chest against mine, the solid strength of him beneath my fingertips. His breath is warm and uneven, lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “Tell me if I’m moving too fast.”
But I don’t answer with words. Instead, I tilt my chin up and kiss him again.
Deeper this time, hunger mixing with tenderness, a delicate dance between restraint and reckless abandon.
His hands roam lower, slipping around my waist and ridding me of my underwear until we both stand before each other without a single shield up.
His eyes race over me, drinking me in before pulling me flush against his body.
I can feel every muscle, every heartbeat. The ache between my legs coils tighter, a delicious tension that makes my breath hitch and my fingers clutch at his broad shoulders.
He slides his hand down my stomach and between my legs. I know I’m warm and slick already, but the sudden electric contact takes my breath away. The lamp’s dim glow slices across his face, highlighting the way his eyes darken with desire—the same desire, the same need that’s been simmering between us for weeks.
“I want you,” he confesses, voice raw and low. “All of you. Every last inch. Any little bit of attention you’ll give me. I want it all.”
He’s careful, never rushing, always asking with his eyes if I’m okay, if I want more. And I do. I want all of this, all of him.
I’m frantic with need, and I push him down onto my bed, so that he’s laid out in front of me.
He’s wide-eyed, following my lead for the moment. His throat bobs as I run my palms up over his chest, coming to straddle him.
There’s nothing between us, nothing holding us back. His rock-hard, impressive length presses against my pussy. It feels decadent.
I rotate my hips, sliding myself on him, soaking him. Sighing contentedly as I finally feel his skin, hot and throbbing against mine.
Emmett’s hands wrap around my waist in a feeble attempt to slow me down as he groans his pleasure into the quiet room. His gaze trails over my body, appreciation shimmering in the shades of blue.
There’s awe there too. Penetrating lust. Fervent hunger.
“I thought I wanted to take it slow,” I murmur down to him, teeth strumming over my bottom lip. “But we can do slow later. I don’t think I can wait.”
He stares at my pussy, my lips gliding up and down over his length as I grind myself on him. “I don’t have a condom.”
I push up on my knees, hovering over his lap, feeling the head of his cock bobbing against my inner thigh before I reach down and fit his thick, smooth head at my entrance. “Do I have anything to be worried about?” I ask, squeezing his cock hard enough to make him hiss.
“Haven’t been with anyone in months. And I’ve been tested since.”
“Good. I’m on birth control and I need to feel you.”
With that, I sink down one inch, feeling him stretch me as I do. My head tips back, and his fingers dig in at my waist.
“Jesus Christ, Jules.” He pulls me down another inch, and this time it’s my turn to hiss. He’s big. Thick enough that I need a moment to adjust.
“Can you handle it, doll?” he murmurs, hands moving over my hips to grip my
ass.
“Yes.”
“Good, take more then.” There’s a commanding bite to his voice that has my body singing for him as he pushes me down incrementally.
He groans at the sight before him, eyes fixed on where we’re finally joined.
“You’re going to take it all, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply, rising to the challenge in his voice as I impale myself on his impressive length with a sharp cry. The sensation of being so full makes my entire body feel hot.
I sigh in relief, finally feeling as close to him as I’ve been craving. Like my mind
and body have needed this.
Needed him.
“Goddamn, Jules. You are fucking spectacular, you know that?”
My heart turns to mush at the mere sound of his voice, raw and brimming with wonder. He’s pulling me apart in the best way possible. He makes me want to stay in scattered pieces at his feet if it means he keeps looking at me like he is right now.
I fall forward as he moves inside me. His grip finds my chin, and he kisses me roughly, laying claim to me with his body. Giving me exactly what I didn’t realize I needed.
We move together with a tenderness that takes my breath away, his body molding perfectly to mine. The world shrinks until there’s nothing but the heat between us, the steady pulse of connection that runs deeper than skin.
“Jules, you terrify me. Needing you like this… it terrifies me.”
My heart clenches. “I know it does,” I confess, voice thick. Because I do know.
I’ve seen what he’s lived with. I know his story. I understand him, and I don’t begrudge him.
“I think…” His voice trails away, eyes fluttering in pleasure as my body goes tight around him. He peppers languid kisses across my chest before quietly confessing, “I want to face my fears for you. Will you let me try?”
I kiss his neck, realizing that, in a way, I’m facing my fears with him too. “Over and over again. Until we get it right.”
I swear his entire body sighs in relief. He melts into me farther than I thought possible. Like he finally feels safe—wanted.
“Thank you,” he whispers softly, pressing his lips to my temple, body moving gently against mine like waves lapping at the shoreline.
Wrapped up in him—in us—I close my eyes and let go. Every fear, every doubt melting away in the wake of how completely cherished I feel. When he whispers my name, it’s not just a sound; it’s a lifeline.
We give ourselves over to each other.
And in this quiet, delicate moment, with rain falling against the window, I know we’re both exactly where we’re supposed to be.
