Page 102 of Julian

Only silence and lights and the morning air moving across my skin while Manhattan stirs beneath me.

And standing there alone on the terrace, I realize a truth with clarity that leaves me breathless. The guilt isn’t coming from wanting Harper but rather from the horrifying realization that for the first time in years… I may actually be allowing myself to imagine a future again. With someone else. The thought should be comforting, but instead I’m flooded with dread, guilt and pain.

Then, suddenly, two arms slide around my waist from behind. The contact startles me so badly that my entire body jerks. My pulse spikes and I spin around.

Harper’s staring up at me, confusion flashing across her face at my reaction.

“Holy shit, you scared me, Harper,” I say, my hand pressing briefly against my chest.

Her brows crinkle in confusion. “I’m sorry.”

I stand there looking at her, trying to reconcile everything at once—the dream, the terrace, the lingering dread in my chest, the fact that Harper is standing here in front of me while part of my mind is still back on the deck of the yacht watching Kylie smile at me.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The question catches her off guard. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed, so I came looking for you.”

Harper steps closer again, cautiously this time. “Are you okay?” she asks.

The concern in her voice is as real as I’ve heard in anyone. Once she lets someone matter to her, like Dylan, she’s all in, and I can see her doing exactly that with me. She wants more than the curated version of Julian Langley the rest of the world gets. She wants understanding and vulnerability. She wants the parts of me I’ve spent years keeping locked away.

And standing here beneath the strangely warm January sky, all I can think about is Kylie.

Harper lifts her hand slowly toward my face, a gentle show of emotion and comfort. “Julian,” she says softly, “you’re kind of scaring me.”

I close my eyes. I can’t do this right now.

I’m in no state to be here dissecting dreams and grief and what Kylie may or may not have been trying to tell me while Harper looks at me with those perceptive eyes that always see too much.

I want escape. So instead of answering her, I grab her.

She gasps softly as I turn us abruptly, pressing her back against the terrace wall hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. One of my hands slides immediately into her hair while the other braces beside her head, trapping her between my body and the cold stone.

“Julian—”

Then I kiss her. It’s hot, and violent, and primal.

I don’t want contemplation or reflection or anything involving deep thought right now. I want oblivion.

My mouth moves harder against hers and she makes a small, startled sound into the kiss as my hand slides possessively down her body, gripping her thigh and pulling her tightly against me. The contact sends a brutal surge of relief through me because this—this part of things—is simple.

The body part makes sense to me. It’s the emotion that could destroy me.

I kiss down her throat roughly, her pulse racing fervently beneath my mouth while her fingers grip tighter against my shoulders.

Every piece of emotional chaos still claws at me, but I stifle it, shielded by the sexual surge I unleash on Harper.

I give into the powerful urge to lose myself inside Harper deep enough that I don’t have to think about anything, or anyone, else at all.

Chapter 26

Harper

Ilove New York in January. Most people don’t. They complain about the gray slush piled at the curbs and the blustery wind tunneling between buildings and the way the city is devoid of joy after the holidays. But that’s exactly why I love it. By January, the tourists are finally gone. Rockefeller Center is no longer an onslaught of humanity and SoHo returns to belonging to the people who actually live here. There’s a romance to NYC once the chaos of Christmas and New Year’s fades in the rearview mirror.

And walking beside Dylan through Manhattan this afternoon, that familiar swell of gratitude washes over me again that he’s here with me instead of tucked away in some tiny Appalachian mountain town pretending to be someone he isn’t.

New York makes you grow up differently. It teaches you how to navigate through unique worlds, how to encounter all kinds of people and cultures and lives without fear. You learn independence early here. Curiosity too. The city hardens you in a good way while somehow making you more open at the same time.