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That hasn’t worked well for me so far.
Or I can do it the other way.
Fuck it. Carpe diem, right?
Chapter Sixteen
Juliette
Henry has listened to everything I’ve said, barely speaking, his eyes flashing every now and then as I say something that obviously upsets or angers him. As I stand there miserably, having come to no conclusions at all, I wait for him to get annoyed with me and either give me an ultimatum, or declare he’s had enough and say that, if I want Cam, I can fucking go and be with him then and stop dangling myself like a carrot in front of his nose.
But he doesn’t. I can see thoughts passing through his mind like fish in a glass tank, but he waits quietly, his blue eyes studying me while he has his silent debate.
He looks so gorgeous tonight. I can’t believe he stripped off on the stage with all the other guys. It was quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, watching them all slide off their jackets and waistcoats and unbutton their shirts. I could no more have refused to dance with him than flown to the moon.
And now, his hair is flopping over his forehead, his eyes are sleepily tired, and he has a dark shadow of bristle on his jaw. He’s barefoot, and his shirt is only held together by two buttons in the middle, so I can see his chest hair. The smell of his cologne rises to my nostrils, warmed by his skin. My fingers itch to slip beneath the cotton and creep up his back, but I can’t do that, because he’s not mine, and I have no right to touch him, and oh jeez I’m so fucking miserable because I want this man and I can’t have him.
What’s he going to say?
His arms are still folded, but as I watch, he lowers them, his hands resting on the edge of the table he’s perching on. He tips his head a little to the side, and he fixes me with his steady gaze.
“Oh, I think you know what you want,” he says. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
My heart stutters, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
He pushes off the table and stands, then closes the distance between us, moving right up to me, until we’re only an inch apart. He’s so tall, and even though I’m wearing high-heeled sandals, he towers over me, so imposing with his wide shoulders and broad chest.
He lowers his hands and rests them on my hips, low down, almost on the outside of my thighs. Then he begins to gather up the material of my dress.
Keeping his gaze on mine, his lips curving up as my eyes flare, he continues to gather until he reaches the hem. My heart is now thundering so loudly I’m amazed he can’t hear it.
Once again, he’s shocked me. He’s such a nice boy. Deep down, I thought the best I could hope for was a hug, and for him to tell me everything’s going to be all right, and maybe, if I was lucky, he’d give me a comforting kiss.
Instead, he pauses and waits for me to give my assent. When it comes—because I’m helpless to do anything other than nod—he lifts the dress up my body. Automatically I raise my arms, and he draws the material up over my head, then drops the dress onto the sofa.
He inhales. The only underwear I’m wearing is a white lace thong.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, eyes widening. “Are you trying to give me a coronary?”
That makes me laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you to strip me.” Despite my amusement, my eyes prick with tears, because he’s looking at me as if he’s not eaten for two weeks and someone has just placed a juicy steak in front of him.
He’s having trouble tearing his gaze away from my body, but eventually he lifts his eyes to mine, and his expression softens.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping my face. He says it with such feeling, as if he’s discovered a flower in the desert.
“You still want me?” I whisper.
A gorgeous smile spreads across his face. “E mutunga kore ana taku aroha ki a koe,” he murmurs. It means ‘my love for you is endless.’
A tear spills over my lashes and runs down my cheek. He observes it, then leans forward and touches his tongue to it, lapping it up. Fuck, why’s that so sexy?
He kisses my bindi, my cheek, my nose, down to my mouth. Then he proceeds to kiss the living daylights out of me.
Ohhh… the way this guy kisses me… covering every inch of my lips, from one corner to the other… tilting his head to change the angle… slanting his lips across mine… and then sliding his tongue into my mouth with such sensual slowness that it sends bells ringing as if it’s time for Sunday service.
He’s just getting going when he lifts his head and looks at my hair, then pointedly at me.
“You want me to take it down?” I ask, and he nods and takes a step back to watch.
