Finding Him (Covet #2) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,51

height in the pool. My breath came out in a rough exhale as he moved between my legs. “I would.”

“I’ll get wet.”

His lips twitched. “Kinda the point, princess.”

“You’ll ruin my dress and my makeup,” I pointed out as another chill wracked my body. It wasn’t the cold, it was him, all him, and his naked chest and the way he was looking at me.

Like he’d seen me naked and wanted to see more.

I couldn’t catch my breath.

My body responded when I told it not to, when I very calmly explained to my pounding heart that we were sad, that we couldn’t move on, not yet, not with him.

Anyone but him.

But the heart, stupid muscle that it tends to be, just pounded harder as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and whispered, “Get wet with me.”

I sighed as he very slowly pulled me into the warm pool and swam us backward to press me against the wall closest to the edge. The wall was completely see-through, the city looked so small beneath us. A rush of excitement washed over me as he wrapped his arms around my middle and whispered in my ear, “She was right.”

I nodded. “It is beautiful.”

“Mmm.” His rock-hard body wasn’t touching me, not yet, but I could feel the heat from it against the wet dress plastered on my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Maybe it’s the champagne.”

“What?”

“This.” I didn’t feel the need to explain to him what I was talking about. “I couldn’t write without you, you know.”

“Are you saying you need me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I’ll help . . .”

My heart wouldn’t shut up as it hammered in my chest. “I thought I was supposed to give you a gift on your birthday, not the other way around.”

“But you did.”

I frowned and turned around in his arms as a chill wracked my body. “What are you saying?”

He lifted a massive shoulder, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “You stayed.”

“I’m a lame gift.”

“It’s all I wanted,” he said, quickly pressing his mouth to mine again, and then I was lost, completely absorbed in the way his mouth played with mine, toyed and teased, like we were the only two people in the world, like our pasts didn’t matter.

It was everything I needed in that moment.

To forget that it mattered.

And kiss Julian so he understood that he did.

And always would.

He moved his hands to my hips, hiking my dress past them. This was happening.

Again.

And I was saying yes.

Again.

Because he felt good and it had been so long since something had felt good in my life, since something had felt right—that I clung to it—clung to him as hard as I possibly could and prayed there wouldn’t be a catastrophic downfall for our end.

“Stop thinking.” Julian pressed another kiss to my neck. “I’ve been doing enough thinking for a lifetime—” A hand reached for my thong and tugged it down. “Now wish me happy birthday.”

I exhaled against his mouth and gave in to the moment. I dug my fingernails into his muscled back as he teased my entrance then went all in. There was no warning, and I didn’t want one, I just wanted him, I wanted that moment where I felt whole.

And even though I knew it was all a dream based on grief and attraction, I let him in.

And I kept him there.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered against his mouth. My head fell back with each powerful thrust. I had nothing to hold on to but him, it only pulled him closer, made me frantic for more as I tried hooking a leg around him, only to have him pull it up and angle deeper, causing me to see stars. “Right there, that’s incredible, right—”

“Keaton.” His voice was rough with strain like he’d been holding back for my benefit.

I opened my eyes and stared at him as the water lapped around our joined bodies, the lights reflecting off the pool, the two of us in our own secret world.

“I missed you too,” I admitted. “A lot.”

Our foreheads touched.

Another punishing kiss as my body slammed back against the tile wall, sending water to splash over the opposite end.

And as release came, fast and hard, he whispered against my mouth, “Good.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

JULIAN

It was the best birthday gift anyone could have given me: Keaton Westbrook. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think it meant anything beyond that night. Neither of us knew how to navigate any of it. I