Chapter Fifteen

· Fifteen ·

Juliet

Will’s truck is very high-tech—totally electric, he explained (an environmentally conscious man! another green flag!)—and very comfortable. As he drives me back to my apartment, I slouch against the window, sliding my palms along the soft upholstery.

I’m warm from my whiskey, from the pleasure of a night of flirty words and flirtier touches. Even if my heart’s aching just a little, remembering that beautiful compliment he paid me.

Because it wasn’t for me. That’s for the woman I’m helping him on his way toward finding.

I push the ache aside and focus on the joy, on the win that was tonight. That’s the datiest date I’ve been on in eight months. And I had the best time. After Fee slid a slice of flourless chocolate cake my way, I took dessert with me and we left our barstools to play darts (which I’m damn good at), then pool (which I’m not). Will, of course, demonstrated he was great at both, but at least at darts, I was just a little better.

I won at darts, and that was thoroughly satisfying, but that wasn’t my biggest win of the night. Not once tonight did I feel the tug of panic that I used to when I thought about getting on dating apps, telling my sisters and friends I was considering putting myself back out there. Tonight, I felt safe. That was the best victory.

Will brings his truck to a stop in front of my apartment, then hits the blinkers. He’s out and around his car before I’ve even managed to open my door.

“Lady Juliet.” He offers his hand.

I smile and take it. “Duke Orsino. Such chivalry.”

He grins at me as I step down from the truck, then shuts the door behind me. The truck chirps twice when he locks it.

I pull my hand away, now that I’m safely on the ground, steeling myself for a well-behaved goodbye. Even though I want to kiss him so much, it’s all I can think about, like a movie playing in my mind’s eye.

“I’ll walk you up,” he says.

I stop outside my building’s door and turn to face him. “You don’t have to. No knee wobbles tonight. Even after my acrobatic attempt at a behind-the-back pool shot.”

His grin deepens. “That was impressive.”

“Right? The only shot I made! Go figure.”

I stare up at him, and silence falls between us.

I’m head-to-toe need, terrified that I’m going to act on it again. We haven’t talked about the fact that we kissed since it happened last Sunday, but we don’t have to. We both know kissing like that is dangerous territory.

The warm night wind picks up, swirling around us, rustling the trees in their tidy dirt squares staggered down the block. “Well,” I say, fiddling with my keys, “we did it. Another excellent practice date in the books.”

He’s still staring down at me, but now his grin is nowhere to be seen. “Any feedback for me? You asked me at the pub, but I forgot to ask you.” He rolls his shoulders and his spine, like he’s steeling himself. “Be honest. I can take it.”

You were perfect , I want to tell him. And even when you weren’t, that was perfect, too.

Instead, I peer up in thought, tapping my chin. “A solid performance, overall. Flirting and compliments were strong, ‘cute-cumber’ line notwithstanding.” I wink so he knows I’m teasing.

He shrugs. “I’m a farmer. A veggie-pun pickup line was too hard to resist.”

“I’d like to point out that we’re talking about a cucumber and I’m not touching that innuendo.”

His mouth quirks, but still no grin. “You aren’t touching it?”

I fight a laugh. “You couldn’t resist your veggie pun. I couldn’t resist a little innuendo about not indulging in innuendo. We’re all works in progress.”

Will nods slowly. “What about when we played darts and pool? What did you think of that?”

“I think that went pretty well. Though maybe let a gal win a game of pool—she’s got a fragile ego.”

That grin finally returns. “And here I thought she’d hate it if she knew I was holding back.”

I would , I think. I loved that you didn’t hide your strength because it wasn’t one of mine.

I’m staring up at him, and I shouldn’t be, but it’s so hard, to end this night when I don’t want to. To be on my best behavior and ignore the raging heat burning through me as our gazes hold.

The wind shifts suddenly, turning the air cool, and cuts through my ripped-up jeans, a shock to my warm skin. I shiver reflexively.

“Let’s get you inside,” Will says.

I hesitate for a beat, then force a smile. “Okay.” Turning, I unlock the door. Will pulls it open for me and follows me into the vestibule, erasing the distance between us as he opens the inside door for me, too. “Thanks,” I tell him, “Good night—”

“Juliet.”

I freeze, then turn to face him, praying I’m not broadcasting in my expression how badly I want to climb him like a tree right now and drag him up to my apartment. “Yes, Will.”

He clears his throat. “For the purposes of this being our second practice date…just for the record, hypothetically, I’d want to kiss you goodbye.”

Heat bolts through me. I clutch the edge of the door he’s holding open, caged inside his big arm draped over me, his broad chest so close to mine. “I think…that would be appropriate. Hypothetically.”

He dips his head, his voice softer. “I’d ask of course.”

“Mm-hmm,” I manage. I shut my eyes, because I can’t handle looking at him, because if I do, I’ll grab him by the collar and crush my mouth to his. My heart pounds; I’m mindless with want.

“But,” he says, his breath warm against my temple, he’s so close. “For reasons that I know are obvious to both of us since last Sunday, I won’t. Just know…if I did…I’d kiss you good night so damn thoroughly, you’d see stars.”

“Okay,” I breathe. My knees wobble. I clutch the door’s edge harder and lock my noodle limbs, determined to be strong. Will’s showing me he can resist this. If Will can resist this, I can, too.

In fact, I want to show him I can do even better than not kiss him good night. I can platonically hug him and walk away just fine.

“How about a hug, then?” I offer, opening my eyes, forcing a nice bright smile.

Will peers down at me, silent. Then he steps closer, so the door falls onto his back. “I can do that.”

“Great. Me, too.” I throw my arms around his neck and, in an effort to keep my libido in check, think about some of my least-favorite things—Gorgonzola cheese, mansplainers, dropped ceilings, spiders.

It doesn’t work. His mouth grazes my temple as his nose brushes my hair. I hear him breathe in deep, like he can’t get enough. I turn my head and let myself breathe him in, too, that clean, herby scent mingled with his warm skin. My fingers curl into his hair.

Will draws me tight against him, his hands wandering lower on my back. I tuck my hips up into his and feel what he’s denying himself, how much he wants me. A groan rumbles in his throat, just as a whimper leaves me.

“I’m going to go now,” he says against my hair.

“Me, too,” I mutter against his neck. “I’m going upstairs. Right this second.”

“I’m walking away.” He sinks his fingers into my hair as our hips rock together. “I’m getting in my truck.”

I clutch his shoulders as our eyes meet. Our noses brush. “I’m in my apartment,” I whisper. “Heading right to bed.”

Bed. The word lands like dynamite between us. We wrench ourselves apart.

Will rakes a hand through his hair. His cheeks are red, his chest moving in big, slow breaths, like he’s trying to settle himself down.

I can relate.

We stare at each other, flushed, breathing heavily. Finally, I make myself take a step back into the hallway.

“Good night, Will,” I say faintly, a smile tugging at my mouth.

He’s grinning, too, looking turned-on and exasperated. He huffs out a breath that’s half laugh, half groan. “Good night, Juliet.”

I turn and rush up the stairs as fast as I can, clutching the railing, and let myself into my apartment.

Falling against the door, I shut my eyes and blow out a slow, thin breath.

I’m so keyed up, I can barely see straight.

Even though we didn’t kiss, not even a peck on the cheek. Even though I didn’t throw myself at him and he didn’t carry me up the stairs and take me to bed.

I push off the door, headed straight for my library. I have never needed a bleak, brutal thriller more in my life.

I take as tepid a shower as my sore body can tolerate. I wear my unsexiest pajamas. I curl up in bed with my sad, creepy book, determined to overcome this.

But when I fall asleep, even with all that effort, Will Orsino still makes a fantastically filthy appearance.