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“Naughty girl.” He smirks against my mouth. “Though I have to admit, you do taste a lot better than the nachos.”

I cannot get enough of him. My hands slide down from his neck to grip his broad shoulders as the kiss deepens, turning frantic and heavy as he pulls me flush against his chest.

The inner rebel that has been quietly dismantling my perfect rule book for the last few weeks is apparently fully operational now. I am unsure when I decided that the rules were also for breaking, but I don’t want to be the Golden Girl tonight. I don’t want to be anything except this, right here.

My knees hit the soft rug between his legs as I slide down his body, my fingers moving straight to his belt. He watches me with that dark, predatory intensity that still takes my breath away. He doesn’t utter a single word; he lifts his hips off the floor, his jaw clenching as I pull the black denim down, exposing his considerable, throbbing length.

Without hesitation, I lean in and take him in my mouth.

My tongue moves over him, armed with the delicious satisfaction of knowing exactly what works for him—knowing the precise amount of pressure to apply to make him lose that arrogant control.

He fists my hair instantly, a rough groan escaping his lips. “Fuck yes Ellise. Just like that.”

I take my time because I can.

Because I want to.

The sounds that he makes when I do this exact thing are some of my favourite things.

I suck and tease over and over until his hips jerk violently upward, and he comes apart completely in my mouth.

“Now.” I pull back with a deliberate movement as my lips trail up his stomach, “I’m ready for nachos.”

Julian lets out a disbelieving laugh as his head falls back against the edge of the bed. His hand comes up to cover his mouth. The expression on his face is a combination of utter defeat and pure joy.

I reach down, pick up a single tortilla chip, and take a slow, deliberate bite of it. I don’t look away from him and those impossible deep, dark eyes. He is completely exposed, his skin flushed, his breathing still a little ragged, and breathtakingly handsome.

He is entirely mine.

Mine.

I haven't said that out loud yet, but I think about it every time he looks at me with that exact, intense gaze. As he watches me finally eat my food, his eyes soften, turning into a silent conversation we have grown fluent in. The one where without saying a single word, I can hear everything he is saying all at once. It’s in the heavy slant of his jaw, the softening of his brow, and the way there is a calmness behind the storm of his eyes.

My mind is still focused solely on after the Showcase and what will happen to us, but looking at him right now, ruined and beautiful on the floor, I know one thing with absolute certainty.

There is no going back for me.

It is only us.

No matter what happens on that stage.

Julian went downstairs about ten minutes ago to scavenge breakfast from Carmela, leaving me tucked up safely beneath the heavy duvet. I’m far too comfortable in this bed, wrapped in his scent, to care about moving—just yet.

Instead, I reach over to the bedside table, grab my leather satchel, and pull out a thick paperback. I roll onto my stomach, completely naked beneath the sheets, propping my chin in my spare hand as I flip open the cover and start reading.

A moment later, the bedroom door clicks open.

Julian walks in carrying a heavy silver tray loaded with enough food to feed a small village. Carmela has clearly outdone herself, again.

“Jesus, did you raid a five-star hotel kitchen on the way up, or is Carmela trying to fatten me up?” I ask, looking up from my book with a grin as he sets the tray on the edge of the mattress.

“A bit of both, I think.” He laughs, climbing back into bed beside me.

“You spoil me, Thorne.” I breathe, abandoning my book instantly as the smell hits me.

He gives me a cheeky wink as he takes a bite of his flaky croissant.

I love being here—with him.