Finding Him (Covet 2)

All he saw was selfishness.

Funny, because despite his playboy reputation, the world called him generous.

And he was.

Generous with everything, including his kisses as he slid his tongue into my mouth, his hands finding my hips and lifting me onto the counter.

He broke away and shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t kiss you and not want more. We can get back to the book.” His expression was shut off, distant.

I knew he still wanted me. I could tell.

It was hard to breathe with all the sexual tension filling up the space between our two bodies.

He paced in front of the computer like a caged lion, and I watched him like the antelope that was ready to volunteer as tribute to be his next meal.

I’d never in my life had such a violent reaction to a man—not even Noah.

Noah was all lingering kisses and laughter at first.

Julian was brooding, sexy, confused, and so damn lonely that my chest ached.

“Sorry.” Julian turned around, his hands on his hips. “I’m ready for the next chapter.”

He didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room.

The fact that we were writing a story he didn’t even realize he was a part of.

I wondered in that moment if he understood that he wasn’t the villain. No, Julian Tennyson had been my hero.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

JULIAN

She was staring at me like I was a saint when it was the last title anyone would give me, and I loved it, loved that she wanted to paint me like the hero for their love story.

And maybe that was the problem. It was another glaring reminder that just like her and Noah, this—whatever this was between us—would end, wouldn’t it?

All good things did end.

I stretched my arms overhead and typed away for another four hours while she relayed story after story, some of them sad, some of them hilarious. I realized that she did better when I didn’t interrupt her or ask if she was okay, so I let her go at her own pace and typed as fast as I could. At this rate, she would be finished with the book in no time.

Panic seized my lungs.

It was literally the only excuse we had to see each other.

And I knew I couldn’t keep trying to seduce her, especially since the sex all seemed to have reasons around it: sadness, birthday gift, and favor. What would we do when we ran out of excuses?

We weren’t just two people who found each other attractive; we both had so much baggage I wasn’t sure I could even afford the fee.

My fingers ached a bit as she finished with one last story where Noah asked her to shave his head so he didn’t look like a Chia Pet.

It made me laugh.

He was brave.

Stared death right in the eyes and said, “I’m not going down without a fight.”

I would like to think that I fought during my coma, but I don’t remember anything outside of the accident and simply waking up to my world changed in a way I was powerless to stop.

Because that’s what love does. It makes choices regardless of how you feel and asks you to come along for the ride even if your heart is shattering in your chest.

“Julian?”

“Hmm?” I looked up after typing the last sentence and waited for her to smile or say thank you. Instead, she just stared at me with a pale face. “Are you okay?” Panic seized my chest—she didn’t look okay. In fact, she looked ready to either pass out or hurl.

Keaton nodded her head slowly, then jumped to her feet and sprinted toward the bathroom at breakneck speed. Freaked out, I ran after her without thinking about the fact that I wasn’t her boyfriend. I shouldn’t be so concerned that my heart felt like it was in my throat. Yet I was petrified.

My mom puked a lot in the end.

A lot.

It was a trigger for me, made me think of the fact that the infection was stealing all of her nutrients and purging them from her already shaky system. And if Keaton was puking, that meant something was wrong, something was very wrong. I shoved my fear away and gave myself a few seconds, took a few deep breaths only to hear Keaton groan.

“Ughhh, donuts,” she grumbled.

I knocked lightly, hating that I was visibly trembling, freaking the hell out over something that was probably just Keaton not feeling good.

“Don’t come in!” she said in a weak voice.

Fuck that. I would break down the door if need be. If she was in there suffering, there was no way, puke or not, that I was standing on the other side doing nothing. I wasn’t that guy anymore, and she had to know that a few words weren’t going to keep me from making sure she was okay.

Ignoring her, I let myself in and grabbed a towel, wetting it and turning to her just as she flushed the toilet and looked up at me with mascara running down her cheeks. She was still beautiful even with black trailing down her porcelain skin.