Chapter Five

Julian

T he attraction sparking in Christopher's amber eyes hit me like a bolt of lightning straight to the groin. If I hadn't shaved my pubes, I'd give a whole new meaning to a burning bush. I took Reed's advice and ignored my inner scaredy cat to really pay attention to Christopher's body language. It would tell me so much more than his words ever would.

I ghosted my fingers over Christopher's thick forearm, noting the way his nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. Lust was a wildfire burning through my body, urging me to be bolder.

"If you wanted to hold my hand, sugar, you should've just said so," I teased.

I traced his veins, and of course, my mind wondered about the veins I'd find on a different thick appendage. Christopher's lips parted, allowing a shaky breath to slide between them. His eyes darted to my hand. It was sliding slowly back toward his wrist, but I kept my attention anchored on his face, gauging his every reaction to my touch. Christopher swallowed hard before licking his bottom lip. He lifted his head, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on my mouth. My pulse rocketed when I recognized the signs. Christopher wanted to kiss me.

I should've said something flirty or sexy, but the moment called for action. Leaning toward him was as natural as taking my next breath. Christopher tilted forward, his gaze volleying between my eyes and mouth. Was this really happening? My heart pounded against my chest like a caged beast dying to escape.

"Son of a bitch!" Harper shouted.

Christopher and I lurched apart like naughty little kids and turned our heads back to the television. It took me several seconds to clear my thoughts and focus my attention on the unfolding scene. Bren was brutally criticizing a contestant's design and was utterly oblivious to the devastation he was inflicting.

Harper turned and looked at me. "Hasn't Bren ever heard of constructive criticism?"

I shook my head. "Nope. And he's not alone. Fashion is a brutal business, and many in the field want to weed out anyone who isn't tough enough to handle it. It's disgustingly toxic. And to think I once thought I could take the industry by the balls and make them see a better way."

Christopher made a strangled noise before gulping down the rest of his drink. Was it my reference to ball grabbing that shook him up? He reached for my glass, and I thought he was going to knock it back also, but he extended it to me instead. "Thirsty?"

I raked my gaze over his broad chest and down to his groin. Heat suffused my cheeks when I saw his state of arousal. Meeting his eyes again, I accepted the drink and said, "Very."

I forced my attention to the television, but I felt him watching me as I ate popcorn and sipped water. If I let my brain fixate on his erection, I'd forget all about Harper sitting there and embarrass us all. I held out for half of a minute before allowing my gaze to drift over that delicious body again. God, those thighs. The thrusting power—

"Oh, come on!" Harper yelled at something Bren had said or done. She snapped her head around and glared at me. "Why aren't you angrier? This is the kind of snarky thing he'd say to you during your season on the show."

"I have no words," I finally said.

Harper quirked a dark brow. "You? Speechless?"

"Bren's not only rude," Christopher said. "He has no taste. He just suggested the designer pair plaid and paisley together. It's like he's trying to sabotage her chances."

Harper and I both looked at him. "What? I pay attention."

I would've taken him more seriously if not for the smear of butter on the right side of his mouth. My fingers itched to swipe it from his skin, so I balled my hands into fists.

"Except for how to properly put things in your mouth," Harper said. "I've seen toddlers with cleaner faces."

Christopher scowled and darted his tongue to the left. I gave in to my urge and swiped the butter from his face. I had planned to wipe it on a napkin, but we hadn't brought any over from the kitchen. So I licked the butter off my finger and returned my focus to the show.

"Gross," Harper said. "Might as well have licked his face."

I looked over at Christopher and winked. "If he plays his cards right, I just might."

A telltale blush crept up his neck, and Christopher hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and fanned his skin.

Oh yeah. It's getting hot in here.

A laconic remark from Bren snagged my attention. He was eviscerating a contestant during the Off the Cuff challenge. The results wouldn't send anyone home, but the winning contestant would gain an advantage in the final round. "I've never seen anything as ugly in all my life," Bren said on the screen.

Christopher snorted so loud it made me jump. "It's still better than that hideous dress you designed in your finale, Just Bren," he said to the television.

I snapped my head in his direction once more. Just Bren ? It was the second time he'd remarked on Bren's performance or appearance, and to the best of my knowledge, Christopher had never watched my season. Or had he?

"How do you know about Bren's finale design?" Harper asked.

Christopher huffed a frustrated sigh and rolled his eyes. "It was in the promo I mentioned. Bren was standing on the stage next to a model wearing the most hideous dress I'd ever seen. Confetti was falling all around them, and the lead judge guy—"

"Hudson," Harper and I both said.

"Yeah, him," Christopher quipped. "Hudson was handing him a big shiny trophy." He mimicked the presentation and winced.

I bolted upright. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he said, waving me off. "I just had an incident with the ground tonight, and my shoulder is stiff."

I scooted back deeper on the couch, spread my legs, and patted my thighs. "Let me see if I can ease some tension for you."

Christopher gave me a tentative smile and shook his head slightly. "I'm okay."

"Take him up on his offer if you're hurting, Toph," Harper said as she returned her attention to the drama on the TV. "He has magic hands."

"Words I never want to hear my sister say again," Christopher said.

I lifted my hands and studied them as if seeing them for the first time. "They look pretty average to me," I said.

Harper snorted. "Magic. Capital M ."

I waggled my brows at Christopher, then patted my thighs once more. He smiled and shook his head, even as he eased off the couch and scooted over to sit between my feet. Christ, his shoulders were broad. I had to spread a little wider to make room for him.

I looked at my ordinary hands once more. Please don't fail me now. I gently placed them on Christopher's shoulders and noted the tension tightening his body. Was it from being so close to me, or was he in more pain than he was letting on? I carefully pushed my fingers into the meaty part of his shoulder. "Tell me where you need me most," I said, moving my thumbs around to probe the areas.

"Warmer," he said when I moved lower. "Maybe both hands on my left shoulder since that's where I hurt most."

I moved my right hand over and used both thumbs to dig into each new knot I discovered.

"Oh!" Christopher said, his entire body stiffening.

I stilled. "Oh or ow?"

"Maybe both," he said. "I want to pull away and lean into your touch at the same time."

Harper snorted. "I'm getting grossed out."

"Yeah," Christopher said, "and I didn't like hearing your headboard banging against my wall when you had a visitor on Saturday night."

Harper's face flushed red, and she narrowed her eyes. "You were supposed to be on a date."

Trying to head off a fight, I adjusted my pressure and said, "How's this?"

Christopher let out the sluttiest moan I'd ever heard. "Holy fuck, that feels good. God, give me more." I pushed a little deeper into the knot and worked it until the muscle relaxed. "Magic hands, indeed. Not just a capital M. All caps and bold print."

I leaned closer to his ear. "But not underlined?"

Christopher's head fell back onto the couch cushion between my legs, and he stared up into my eyes. "Double underline," he said huskily, then closed his eyes. "Please don't stop."

"Seriously, should I go to my room?" Harper asked.

"Yes," Christopher replied while I said, "No."

She giggled and returned her attention to the show while I watched a blissful expression wash over Christopher's face. His eyelashes fluttered a few times, but he didn't reopen his eyes. A few moments later, Christopher's lips slackened, and his breathing changed to a slow, steady rhythm. Instead of pulling my hands free, I continued to rub his left shoulder and neck. And if my fingers slid through the silky hair at his nape just once, well, who did it hurt?

"I saw that," Harper teased and bumped her shoulder against mine.

We continued watching the rest of the show in silence, but I couldn't have said who won the weekly challenge and whose dream got cut short. I only recalled the feel of Christopher's warmth seeping through his shirt and into my skin.

"What do we do about Sleeping Beauty?" I asked once the show ended.

"I'll wake him up and help him to his room if he needs it," Harper said.

I reluctantly pushed off the couch and rose to my feet. A chill permeated the places that had been toasty warm just moments prior. Harper stood up too and hugged me.

"Should I thank you for having your wicked way with my brother?" she teased.

I glanced over at Christopher, who looked like an oversized boy in his sleep. I smiled wickedly at Harper and said, "Baby girl, if I'd had my way with him, you'd know it. Hell, the whole building would know it."

She scrunched up her face and swatted at me. "Sweet dreams." I started to say something naughty, but she covered both ears. "I can only take so much in one night."

I nearly got bowled over by Bruno, our neighbor's exuberant dog, when I stepped into the hallway. He was just a big fluffy baby boy, which I told him when I leaned over and scratched his ears.

"So sorry," Sally, Bruno's owner, said. "We're working on obedience at his school."

"No worries. He didn't manage to take me down this time, so I'd say it's an improvement."

Sally apologized again and took the lumbering puppy out for his final walk of the night. I unlocked the door directly across from Harper's and let myself in. I should go to bed, but I was far too keyed up. I went into the spare bedroom that I'd converted to a sewing room to work on Harper's dress for the charity gala. The fuchsia silk would look amazing against her fair skin. I just had a few more finishing touches before I revealed the creation.

After a few hours of sewing, the yearnings Christopher stirred within me still hadn't subsided. I lovingly set the dress aside and headed to the shower, where I could let my what-if fantasies play out. For the first time since I'd met Christopher Carnegie, those farfetched imaginings felt a little closer to reality.