STELLA
For the record,I was not jealous of the women Christian saw last night. I was merely worried about him being gone for hours since he was my boyfriend—well, fake boyfriend—and it would create a lot of headaches for me if anything happened to him.
That was all.
My skin prickled with awareness as we waited for Josh or Jules to answer the door.
It was their belated housewarming, and Christian had finagled an invite since Rhys and Bridget were in town for both the party and some diplomatic event. Something about wanting to see Rhys and not being able to meet up with him separately.
I’d planned to avoid Christian until I sorted through my tangled feelings toward him, but now I had to spend an entire day with him while his confession and warning played like a broken record in my head.
I’ve never wanted anyone more, and I’ve never hated myself more for it.
Go to your room, Stella. And lock your door.
My imagination couldn’t resist spinning fantasies of what would’ve happened had I not left after his warning…or if I hadn’t locked my door like he’d told me to.
Rough hands. Whiskey kisses. Footsteps in the dark.
Heat arrowed down my torso and pooled between my thighs.
I clutched my housewarming gift closer to me as my breaths quickened.
Despite my love of crystals, tarot, and all things mystic, I didn’t believe in magic. Not the spells and broomsticks kind, anyway. But in that moment, I was certain that Christian could crawl inside my mind and pick out every dirty, wicked fantasy I’d had of him.
His stare burned a hole in my cheek as the crisp April afternoon turned into a furnace. The sun blazed a ruthless path over my exposed skin and slowed my heartbeat while the silence wrapped tight hands around my throat.
I might’ve suffocated right there on the front steps had Jules not opened the front door and saved me.
“Stella! Christian! I thought I heard you guys,” she bubbled. “I’m so glad you could make it!”
The tension collapsed, pulling Christian’s gaze away from me and loosening the string holding me upright until I sagged against my boxed candle gift set with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I thrust the box at her, hoping she couldn’t pick up on my restlessness. Once Jules scented a whiff of gossip, she chased it down like a dog after a bone. “This is for you. Happy housewarming.”
Her eyes lit up. She lived for presents. She once told me it was a shame Santa wasn’t real because, as old as he was, she’d fuck him if it meant she’d wake up to a different gift every morning.
Granted, that had been after three eggnogs over the holidays, but still. Jules Ambrose’s mind worked in fascinating ways.
“Thank you! Come in, come in. Everyone’s already in the living room.” She took the gift with one hand and opened the door wider with the other. “Just take off your shoes and leave them by the door. I personally don’t care, but Josh is anal about that.” She rolled her eyes in good-natured exasperation.
“That’s because I don’t want people tracking city dirt and grime all over our floors, you heathen.” Josh came up behind her and kissed her cheek before greeting us with a dimpled smile.
“Hey, guys. Welcome to our humble abode.” He swept a dramatic arm around the two-story townhouse.
I’d visited before, so I was familiar with the hardwood floors and charmingly mismatched décor—Jules’s fluffy pink rugs next to Josh’s black leather furniture, her red lip-shaped pillows offsetting the hideous paintings strewn on the walls.
Josh was easy on the eyes, but his taste in art was questionable at best.
“Nice art,” Christian drawled.
“Thanks.” The other man beamed. “I picked it out myself.”
“I can tell.”
I shot Christian a quick look, but his expression was impassive.
“I am not a heathen.” Jules was still stuck on what Josh called her. “As for the grime and dirt, that’s what cleaning is for.”
“Yeah? And who does the cleaning?” he asked as we walked toward the living room. His lean frame moved easily around the skis propped haphazardly against the open door of the front hall closet and the empty Crumble & Bake box half-sliding off a side table.
He was an ER doctor at Thayer University Hospital, but with his tousled dark hair, tanned skin, and razor-sharp cheekbones, he could play one on TV as well.
“I do,” Jules said primly. “When I have time.”
“The last time you had time, you spent it giving yourself an at-home facial.”
“My skin needs pampering. Being a lawyer is stressful.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Might I remind you that the last time you had time, you spent it getting your ass whooped at chess by Alex?”
Josh scowled. “I did not get my ass whooped. I was getting the lay of the land. Figuring out his weaknesses.”
Jules patted his arm with a soothing hand. “There, there, babe. It’s okay. I still love you even if you suck at strategy.”
I swallowed a laugh at their bickering. Some things never changed.
We entered the living room, where the rest of the party sprawled across two leather couches.
Bridget jumped up and hugged me the instant she saw me. “Stella! It’s so good to see you!”
“You too.” I squeezed her tight. To the rest of the world, she was a queen, but to me, she’d always be the girl who I binge-watched The Bachelor and stayed up late drunkenly discussing the philosophy of life with when we were in college. “How’s the royal life treating you? Behead anyone lately?” I teased.