Chapter Thirty-Five

· Thirty-Five ·

Juliet

Standing on the balcony of Will’s home, I stare up at the stars, sparkling like diamonds in the pitch-black velvet sky. Because this is where I was told to be, and if I’ve learned anything in the past month, it’s that Will Orsino can plan the heck out of a romantic date—if he tells me to go stand on a balcony, I’m not going to say no.

The air is warm, a breeze lifting my hair, wrapping me in the scent of roses and wisteria curving up the trellis at the end of the pavers leading to his front door. I shut my eyes and drink in the beauty of this moment, the joy filling my heart.

But then I hear the soft strum of a guitar, and my eyes snap open.

I peer down over the balcony and gasp.

Will. Standing below me, a guitar strap around his shoulder, his hands plucking softly at the strings. And then he starts to sing.

I clutch the railing.

He has a beautiful voice. Deep and rich, yet soft.

The words weave through the air, wrapping around my heart, like vines that burst into bloom with each lovely line that he serenades into the night.

You were a lightning strike, lighting up my heart.

I was once smitten, twice shy,

But you still gave me a chance, let me play a part,

Let me learn to love you, believed in me when I didn’t.

And when the curtain came down, roses at your feet,

All I could do was look at you and think,

That if you let me love you for as long as I live,

My life would be complete.

Tears spill down my face as he strums softly, then stills his hands over the strings, staring up at me.

“William Orsino,” I call over the balcony, my voice thick, my heart bursting with love. “Get up here this instant.”

Will grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

I rush inside, through his bedroom, its deep green walls like a forest, dark and magical, glowing with candles, past his big bed with its cloud-white sheets and comforter that I’m going to throw him down onto, very, very soon, if I have my way.

Clutching the railing, I race down the stairs as fast as I can, but he’s already there, running toward me, wrapping his arm around me, lifting me up.

I clasp his face in my hands, and I kiss him, long and sweet, my heart flying. “I love you,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”

He stops with me at the top of the stairs, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands splayed across my back, and holds my eyes. “I love you, Juliet. With all my heart. I’m sorry I ever doubted that was possible.” He shakes his head, starting to walk me slowly toward the bed. “You saw and believed it when I couldn’t, what was true all along, from the moment I met you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, searching his eyes. “And what was that?”

He kisses me tenderly, reverently. “That not only could my heart be loved and love you…it was made to love you.”

Tears fill my eyes. “Will.”

“Juliet.”

“You love me,” I whisper.

He nods. “Endlessly.”

I kiss him, my hands in his hair, drawing him so close, as close as I can get him. “Take me to bed.”

Silently, he walks me to the bed’s edge and lowers me to the ground. Our eyes hold each other as we peel away each other’s clothes, slow, savoring—nothing rushed this time.

“I’ve been tested,” he says faintly as I kiss his throat, the hard, round curve of his pectoral muscle. “Negative for everything.”

I nod as I kiss my way over to his heart. “Me, too.”

“I’ve got condoms, though— shit .” He drops his head to the crook of my neck as I stroke him in my hand, enjoying every inch of him, velvet hot and hard.

“I’m on the pill,” I tell him. “So I don’t need them, if you don’t.”

“Uh-uh,” he says dazedly as I stroke him. His hands wander over my breasts, cupping them as they fill his hands, plucking at my nipples.

I try to draw him back with me onto the bed, but he pins me against him, his hands wandering low along my back, curving over my ass. “Will,” I whine. “Hurry.”

I moan faintly as he kisses the corner of my mouth and throw my arms around his neck again, rubbing myself shamelessly against him, because now I can, as much as I want, after so much waiting. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.

“Hurry?” he whispers into our kiss. “Why, you got somewhere else you need to be soon?”

“I just might. I’m a very busy lady,” I tell him faintly as he kisses his way down my neck.

“Well, damn. Think you’ve got some time for little old me first?”

I smile, my eyes falling shut. I reach for his length between us and give him a nice, firm stroke. “I think I could squeeze you in.”

“Jules,” he groans, clearly exasperated by my juvenile innuendo.

A snort sneaks out of me. “Come on, that was good. And I’m also going to assume it’s pretty accurate, given what I’ve got in my hand—”

“Juliet,” he sighs. Still, his voice is warm with affection, his touch tender and sensual. “I’m trying to be romantic, here.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” I whisper against his jaw, breathing him in, the heat of his skin, the whisper of herby soap, which was clearly designed with the express purpose of making me a horny mess. “Romance away.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, lifting me and tossing me onto the bed.

I squeak in surprise, delighted and beaming as he crawls over me. I cup his face, take his mouth with mine, our tongues stroking, sucking, harsh panting breaths, as Will kisses me fiercely.

I sink my hands into his hair, drawing him down over me. Will shifts until he’s stretched out over me, his weight settled between my thighs. I sigh in pleasure, raking my hands up his back.

Our mouths meet again, in deep, slow kisses, sharp tugs of air drawn against each other’s mouths. His tongue strokes mine, wet, hot, making my hips roll beneath his, begging for that same sensual rhythm. I’m aching, but not in pain—in glorious pleasure, warm and wanting, in the pulse between my legs and deep inside me, in my nipples as they rub against his chest, the sensitive stretch of skin at the nape of my neck where his breath fans hot and fast, making goose bumps bloom in its wake.

“Juliet,” he pants against our kiss.

I sigh his name, pleasure spilling through me as he rocks his hips into mine. “Will.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

Will cups my breast, my panting breaths morphing to cries of pleasure when he plucks rhythmically at my nipple. He kisses me, swallowing the sound. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him close, so close, until he can’t get any closer.

Will breaks our kiss to shift his weight, to settle over me on his elbows. He doesn’t kiss me again, only stares down at me, his gaze roaming my face.

I ask breathlessly, “Everything okay?”

Gently, he brushes back the hair that has stuck to my temples. “Yes. Am I crushing you?”

“Not at all.” I reach for him, try to pull him down for another kiss, but he holds steady, his eyes holding mine.

His eyes search mine. “I’m only going to say this once, because…I know that’s important to you, not always having it brought up, how much your body can hurt…”

I nod.

“I know I can’t take away your pain, as damn hard as I wish I could. I just need to know, before we do this, that I won’t ever be adding to it. That you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you,” he says. “If I’m too heavy, if anything is uncomfortable, okay?”

I smile up at him, this man I love so very much, and lift my pinkie. “Promise.”

He smiles down at me as he hooks his pinkie with mine, then lets go, bracing himself over me again.

His eyes hold mine. My breath stutters in my chest. And then he lowers his mouth to mine.

I let him torture me in that wonderful way he has, rocking against me, working me up. My feet scramble against the bedsheets. My hands rake down his back. When I can’t take another second, I pull away from our kiss and gently press on his shoulders. Will searches my eyes.

“Lie down,” I tell him.

He flops onto his back. And now it’s my turn to crawl over him. Will’s eyes grow hazy as I straddle his waist. I bend down and kiss him, tongue and teeth. His hand dives into my hair. He grunts as I shimmy down, rubbing myself against his erection.

He reaches for me, but I gently duck his hand, crawling lower, planting kiss after kiss on each freckle of his skin.

“Jules,” he sighs, his voice tight with need.

“Let me enjoy myself, impatient man.” I grin, kissing a freckle at his hip, lower, on his thigh, then the other, until I’m at the edge of the bed, bent over him. I grip his length and stroke it, the way I’ve learned he likes. He groans as I pump him firmly. And then he swears when I take him in my mouth. Time for Will to endure a little delicious torture of his own.

He grips the bedspread with one hand and finds my cheek with the other, cupping it tenderly. I moan around him, loving how hard he is, his taste, the feel of him as I take him deeper.

He gasps. “Jules.”

“Hmmm?”

He reaches for my arm, panting for air. “Come here. Please.”

“Just a minute,” I tell him, returning to the very pleasurable task at hand. For a few minutes, I tease him, light sucks, cupping his balls, flicking the tip of his length. His hips start to rock in earnest beneath me. His hand shakes as it cups my cheek.

“Juliet, I need to be inside you.”

I release him with a pop and scramble up him.

He grins up at me as I lean down for a kiss. “Those were the magic words, huh?”

“So magical,” I pant into his mouth. “I need you. I need you now.” Pausing, I glance toward the headboard, then back to him. “Can we…Can we sit up? I want to see you. I want to be close that way, face-to-face.”

Will sits up, bringing me with him, then reaches behind him, propping the pillows against his headboard. He scooches back against them. “Like this?”

I crawl his way in answer, then press him back so he’s reclined a little against the pillows. Efficiently, I straddle his waist. It puts us at the perfect height, our faces lined up, just how I wanted. I lean in and kiss him tenderly. “This okay for you?” I ask.

“Juliet, you’re about to let me be inside you—you could ask me to stand on my head and I’d find it beyond okay.”

A laugh falls out of me as I kiss him again. “I love you,” I whisper.

And I love that I don’t even know exactly when it happened, not like it seems to in my favorite stories, when it’s some grand epiphanic moment. Falling in love with Will has been like slowly wading into water since the moment I saw him, and now I’m saturated, neck-deep in it, its power and beauty, our trust, and tenderness, and safety surrounding me.

Slowly, I lift up on my knees. I rub gently at my entrance, spreading my wetness, holding his eyes. Will sets his hands at my waist as I reach for him, as I guide him inside me. We both gasp as I sink down on him, as he fills me, so full, so exquisitely perfect.

“Jules,” he whispers, his voice breaking. He draws me closer by the hips until we’re touching, chest to chest, hearts pounding against each other. I kiss him tenderly as I roll my hips forward.

“I can’t do the up and down,” I admit quietly. “It hurts my hips. But I can do it like this.” I show him what I mean, rocking forward, then back. The flicker of an orgasm begins to warm in my belly, as my clit brushes his pelvic bone, as he pulls me even tighter against him.

He sighs against our kiss, wrapping his arms around my back, lower, over my ass. “I feel you,” he whispers brokenly. “I feel all of you. You’re so warm and tight, baby, so wet.”

“No Matthew McConaughey rom-com needed here,” I pant.

A hoarse laugh jumps out of him. “All right, all right, all right.”

I laugh, too, throwing my arms around his neck, kissing him deep and hard. Our laughs dissolve to groans.

With Will guiding my hips, I rock faster. My orgasm’s building furiously, stoked by his feathering kisses along my neck, his hand wandering to my breast, kneading it and plucking at my nipple. “Close,” I whisper.

“I want it, Jules.” He squeezes my ass, moving me against him. “I want every needy little sound, every second of your pleasure. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

I gasp at his words, at the orgasm spurred on by them as it knocks into me, making me do just what he asked, scream in pleasure as I tighten my legs around his hips, as I ride him hard and hasty, soaking up every wave of euphoria that I can.

Will groans as I move faster. His hips start to buck underneath me. His legs start to shake. “Baby,” he pants. “I’m gonna…Oh God—”

“I know,” I tell him, swallowing his moans, his rough, panting breaths, with a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue dances with mine. I drink in his harsh exhales against my mouth, feeling him swell even more inside me, feeling him stroke even deeper into my body.

He pulls away just enough to hold my eyes as his expression morphs from the edge of torturous pleasure to breathless bliss. I cup his neck, never breaking his gaze, as he grips my hip hard and thrusts up, frantic, until he stills, deep inside, and spills into me.

His eyes fall shut as he buries his face in my neck, his arms clutching me so tight, I feel his heart slamming in his chest, hammering against mine. He rolls his hips softly, erratic but easing, as if, like me, he’s greedy for every single moment of this, to make it last as long as possible.

Finally, he falls back onto the pillows, pulling me with him. We tip sideways, until we’re facing each other, a tangle of legs and arms, winded laughter as we sink back and slide in under the sheets.

Will stares at me as he draws me close. I set my hand over his racing heart and smile, sated, sleepy, so impossibly happy. “That was,” I whisper, pausing for a much-needed breath of air.

“Perfect,” he whispers. His hand comes to rest over mine, where it sits over his racing heart. He searches my eyes.

I shake my head, smiling.

“What is it?” he asks breathlessly.

I lean in and give him a loving, lasting kiss. “To think, we’re just getting started.”

He smiles against my kiss. And with that kiss, with his tender hands drawing me close, seeking me beneath the sheets, he tells me he’s right there with me—wide-eyed, wonderstruck by the road ahead of us, a road we’ll walk together, stretched out to the horizon.

Full of possibility.