Leaps & Lies

Chapter Nineteen

S he knows. She knows , but to believe it—to trust in the improbability—seems impossible. It seems dangerous. Will certainty be enough to save her from the broken heart that surely lingers on the horizon?

But Julian reads her, reads her probing question and insecurity as though he already knows the end of the story before opening the book.

She thinks he’ll speak, thinks he’ll drop another of his earth-shattering confessions on her, but when he leans into her chilled legs from his spot on the ground, it’s entirely unexpected. Julian licks her shin.

He licks a broad stripe up her shin and sets his teeth against her kneecap delicately before she manages to choke out any words.

The air of her apartment is thicker than soup, and Julian— Mr. Julian—is kneeling on the ugly carpeted floor of her dingy studio, licking and nibbling her legs. Vivian wants to scream. She wants to throw him out or throw herself at him.

“When you said I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, I didn’t realize that you were looking for a chew toy.”

“I’ve always admired your sharp tongue. Even when your nerves are written across your face for anyone to see, you always have something smart to say.”

“I imagine hearing something smart is quite novel for you.”

“Bold words for a woman about to hyperventilate,” Julian retorts.

And when he bites at her thigh with a touch more pressure, Vivian is close to gasping for air. Despite countless hours of rehearsals, she’s never been so winded.

He’s only touched her icy feet, only licked and bitten at her calves, and yet the electricity is unbearable, the tension undeniable. He’s barely even ventured above her knees. If he touches her— really touches her—she might scream. She’ll give him anything he asks for.

“You have a lot of arrogance for a man on his knees.”

“Does it truly seem as though I’m the vulnerable one?” asks the arrogant asshole.

“Is this a lecture or a fuck?”

Vivian wants to smack herself the moment the words slip out. Despite her brave face and sass, she knows she’s in over her head. Vivian hasn’t had many partners, not when dance quickly became a priority for her in middle school, but she’s had enough to know that there’s plenty she doesn’t know. But it’s not Julian’s age or presumed experience that overwhelms her, it’s something fundamentally intrinsic to him . He walks into a studio, and her heart beats a little faster. He praises her grand jeté, and her breath catches. The mere idea of sex with him is so beyond plausible that it’s all she’s thought about. There’s safety in improbabilities. In chasing unlikely dreams and striving for unattainable goals.

Julian shoots her a slanted grin that screams of sin and debauchery.

“Fine, take your pants off.”

He doesn’t move from his spot in front of the futon, leaving her to awkwardly lift her hips and wriggle her yoga pants down until they’re pooling around her ankles. She moves quickly, lest logic rears its dangerous head.

The instant her loose sweats and underwear pool around her ankles, Julian stares with hungry eyes.

“Last chance to back out,” he offers without pausing his study of her newly bared skin.

“Or what? You’ll stare me to death?” Vivian doesn’t back down. She couldn’t peel his fingers from her legs if she wanted to, couldn’t remove his touch any more than she could remove her own limbs.

Julian doesn’t reply. He nips her right above her knee before dragging her hips to the edge of the futon with strong fingers. He leans in, stubble pressing right against her core for one impossibly long breath.

Then there’s a sharp bite to her clit that leaves her whimpering and electric. It’s more of a retort than anything he could have vocalized. She’s immediately wet.

Vivian’s hands drop to Julian’s head, and she’s quick to knock his hat aside and delve her fingers into his brown waves. That seems to be all the approval he needs because he settles in at her feet, ostensibly intent on devouring her whole—one tantalizing lick at a time.

Unlike some of Vivian’s past experiences, Julian is fervent between her legs. As though licking and sucking at her rewards him more than her. His enthusiasm is heady, swelling Vivian’s body with confidence and surety. To know that this difficult, caring, cranky, impossible man wants her is one thing. To experience the full force of his desire is something else entirely. To see Julian on his knees as a devout worshipper is intoxicating. Addictive. Vivian knows she’ll remember the sight for the rest of her life.

The stubble on his chin and cheeks prickles at her. He licks, nibbles, sucks, and laves, testing out spots and techniques while studying her reactions with keen eyes. As much as she will forever remember Julian kneeling for her, she knows he’s memorizing her in turn.

She watches for as long as she can until the dizzying spirals of pleasure from his mouth force her eyes to close. Vivian thinks she might be shaking. Maybe it’s the futon shaking, maybe it’s Julian.

When he seals his mouth over her clit and sucks , she can’t help but let out an airy, “Fuck, Julian.”

He rumbles in response, and the vibration feels delicious.

“More, please. More. ”

Her hips twitch and flex under his hold, little thrusts of desperation. It’s so, so good, but it’s not quite enough.

When Julian pulls his mouth back to gaze up at her, his stubbled chin is shiny and wet. She hopes the friction burns from his facial hair last forever.

“What do you need?”

Embarrassment heats her cheeks at the question, but it’s not enough to stop her pleading response of, “Your fingers. Please.”

“If I’d known that a few licks would make you so polite, I would’ve dropped to my knees in Studio C weeks ago.”

Vivian snorts indelicately, and a corresponding chuckle rumbles out of Julian. Vivian’s never had sex like this. Never had a partner who made her burn up inside one moment and laugh carelessly the next. That he should be off-limits only seems fitting.

Her soaring amusement melts back into rapture at the first touch of his fingers. Julian delivers a sharp tap to her clit before sliding two fingers into her. The sensation is bliss. Vivian’s whole world is wet, warm, and charged. A decadent bubble bath. The joy of screaming at the top of a mountain.

Her hips rock of their own accord now, chasing her peak. Julian moans against her wet skin, laving her clit with broad strokes of his tongue as his fingers pump.

He curls his fingers, applying pressure just where she needs it most, as he sucks her clit into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth.

Vivian explodes and the world is champagne bubbles that send jolts of ecstasy everywhere.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” she begs, fingers tightening in his hair. She couldn’t release him if she tried. Simply couldn’t allow him to exist anywhere but between her thighs.

For all that Julian’s pushed and challenged her in the weeks they’ve known each other, he’s uncharacteristically cooperative now. He doesn’t stop, curling his fingers tighter, sucking her more sharply.

And then Vivian crests, flooding into his mouth.

By the time her limbs stop trembling and she has the wherewithal to blink down at Julian, he’s wiping her wetness off his chin and licking it off his palm.

“You should’ve warned me you’re a squirter,” he says with a quirked eyebrow.

She lacks the coordination to shrug and instead huffs out a breath that could mean anything.

He continues anyway, “I don’t mind. God no, that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. But if I’d known, I’d have put a towel down first.”

Now that she thinks about it, the lumpy futon does feel awfully damp beneath her.

“I didn’t...”

In spite of everything, Vivian has a heart-stopping moment of hesitation.

“It’s never happened before?” Julian guesses.

“No, that’s not it. But it’s only happened once before. With my ex . . . girlfriend.”

Vivian waits for a reaction. Waits for Julian to bring up the way he’s likely seen her staring at Ms. Renee in some inexplicable combination of awe and attraction during rehearsal. Waits for something that sounds polite but carries disdain.

Instead, he bites right above her knee, sucking on the skin until there’s a bright, flushed stain.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Julian stands and walks to the bathroom and Vivian’s certain her heart goes with him.

He’s gone for what could be a second or an hour when she hears the bathroom pipes give a telltale squeak that means the shower is running. He appears back in front of her before she can be surprised that he’s helping himself to a shower.

“As much as I’d love to climb in with you, your shower is barely large enough for one adult. Trying for two seems dangerous. Wait another minute before you get in though, there was still some ice in the tub that needs to melt.”

Oh.

Oh.

The shower is for her.

“You don’t want to . . . clean up first?” she asks. He and the futon suffered the brunt of the . . . mess after her orgasm.

“No. You go first. I’ll try to dry the futon. Does the cover come off?”

When Vivian stands, there’s an incriminating wet spot at the edge of the ugly green fabric. At least it’s not in the center where she typically sleeps.

“Uhh, I don’t think so. Are you sure you don’t want to . . . uhh, wash your face before I shower?” she asks again.

Julian grins at her, bright and broad, and she thinks she might be seeing stars. Maybe she’s having a heart attack? Surely, the erratic beat of her pulse can’t be healthy. His grin is dazzling. She’ll do anything to see it again.

“Viv, if I thought you wouldn’t get mad, I’d never wash my face again. I’d grow a beard so that every time I ate you, I’d get to smell you for hours after.”

And that’s . . . a lot. She can’t remember being speechless before, but there’s something about Julian’s ardent passion that leaves her in awe. Her dreams of a dance career mean that she understands the concept of mindlessly pursuing of a goal. But to be the goal . . . to be the subject of all that focus and infatuation is more than she could’ve imagined.

“You’re welcome between my legs any day, but please, still wash your face.”

Julian chuckles and ushers her into the bathroom where the peeling wallpaper has collected condensation and steam, thanks to the broken ceiling fan.