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Her core tightens around my fingers as she comes, her breath returning in frantic gasps. She feels amazing, and all I can think about is making her come again and again. Will her expression be different the next time? Will she still be so quiet when it's my cock inside her instead of my fingers?
I continue pulsing slowly as she rides out her orgasm, drawing it out for as long as possible. Finally, her body begins to relax, and I gently remove my fingers from her core. They're coated in her arousal, sweet and intoxicating. I want to bring it to my lips, to taste every part of her, but Nat locks me in another devastating kiss before I have the chance.
“Oh my God,” she breathes when we break apart. “How was that so good with just your hand?”
Pride surges through me from her question, and I can't help but chuckle. “I think I have something you'll enjoy even more,” I whisper in her ear before tugging at her earlobe with my teeth.
“Fuck,” she hisses, her knees clamping around my hips.
A sudden clanging echoes from down the hall, and in that split second, the mood shifts from desire to panic. It's the front door of the building—we both recognize it instantly. The others are arriving.
And just like that, reality comes crashing down around us. Nat swears again as we immediately separate. She hops down from the table and frantically tugs her overalls back into place while I smooth out my hair and try to think of anything that will help eliminate the rock hard bulge in my jeans.
Crippling guilt should do the trick. I start with the obvious: How could I let this happen? What was I thinking?
Well, that's just it: I wasn't thinking.
I turn back to Nat and find her gazing up at me from a few feet away, her eyes wide and reflective, a vulnerability there that I hadn't noticed in the minutes before. "I don't know what comes next," she confesses, her voice a soft whisper laden with uncertainty.
The bustling sounds of men arriving at the building continue, adding another layer of pressure to the situation. This discussion needs to be had, but when we can give it more attention. And preferably when our brains are back at full capacity.
"I’m sorry,” I confess, my heartbeat rapidly pounding in my ears. “For pushing you away before, for this…” There are so many things to say, and yet there are no words. “I’ve just… I don't want to fuck this up.”
Natalie is quiet for a moment, contemplative, before she crosses to me. Stretching up on her toes, she gently tucks a stray hair behind my ear. The action is so tender, so intimate, that I find myself blushing, despite the position we were in just moments ago.
“It's okay,” she soothes, her simple words feeling heavy and sinking deep. Her touch is grounding, and I wish I could live in this moment, keep the rest of the world at bay for just a few minutes more. “We'll figure this thing out. Right?”
I nod, even though I feel undeserving of her comfort. We can't keep doing this—pulling away only to crash back together. It's not sustainable. Eventually, one of us is going to break.
The only way this would work is if we really went for it. A true, committed relationship. But the very idea of that is laden with the weight of potential mistakes, potential heartbreak. I can't bring myself to do that, to promise something I'm not sure I can deliver without risking us both.
I've ruined every relationship I've ever had. And I wouldn't be able to bear it if I hurt Natalie again.
There's so much more to discuss, but when I open my mouth to respond, to offer something—anything—that might bridge the gap between my fears and her needs, another sound catches my attention, this time, a voice.
Jack rounds the corner, his arrival marking an abrupt end to our private moment. The suddenness of his appearance startles us both, and Natalie instinctively jumps away from me, her movement quick and a little panicked.
Jack's eyes flicker between us, a hint of suspicion in his gaze, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he greets us with a nod. "Morning," he says, an unspoken question lingering in the simplicity of his greeting.
"Morning, Jack," Natalie replies, her voice steady despite the adrenaline that I know must be coursing through her as much as it is through me. She adjusts her straps, smoothing down her overalls in a quick motion that speaks volumes of her attempt to regain composure.
I manage a nod in Jack's direction, my mind still reeling from the interruption and the unresolved tensions with Natalie. "Jack," I acknowledge briefly, my voice neutral.
Jack was the last person I expected to see here, and it feels like I'm playing catch-up as I scramble to put the pieces together. Natalie must have recruited his artistic prowess for help restoring the frescoes. I wish I had known.
Everything scrambles together into one tangled mess in my brain as I hurriedly make my exit. And then I'm gone, moving as quickly as I can without full on running away, but feeling a coward all the same.
What the hell am I going to do now?
CHAPTER 14
NATALIE
What the hell just happened?
Every part of me is still pounding; my heart, my head, the space between my legs. That was not supposed to happen. Julian was not supposed to happen.
It's all I can do to keep my knees from knocking together in front of my brother. Jack's brow is furrowed in concern, his eyes scanning me quickly. "Everything okay?" he asks, his voice low, his gaze pointedly noting my slightly disheveled appearance.
