My gaze narrowed. “Did you ever sneak boys up to your room?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Fuck no. Besides, if it was the twit downstairs, I know what you didn’t do.”
The sounds from the first floor faded as we entered the second-floor hallway.
“How many bedrooms?” I asked.
“Six. Rosemary is Arnold’s wife. They’ve lived on-site for as long as I can remember. When I was very young, my nanny also lived here, and I had a playroom-slash-classroom in another. Now it’s just Arnold and Rosemary in one, my parents in the master suite, and my room. That leaves three bedrooms that sit empty in anticipation of guests who never arrive.”
“I’m familiar with empty rooms.”
We came to a heavy door.
Julia turned the knob and pushed it inward. Unlike the suites in my home, this was one large room with an attached bathroom. No sitting area or extra space. Then again, this home was built before those amenities were even considered. I stepped inside.
One wall contained a fireplace surrounded by built-in bookcases. The shelves were filled with books, pictures, and knick-knacks. I walked over and lifted a picture of three girls lying on their stomachs, looking at the camera, and laughing. I pointed to the girl in the middle. “You.”
Julia was at my side. “Yes.”
“I’d know your beautiful eyes anywhere.”
She reached for the picture and sighed. “That’s me with Beth and Vicki.”
“Someday, you can all be friends again.”
“I don’t know.”
I turned, taking in the large windows with thick sills and heavy curtains that filled another wall. Her bed was a canopy and smaller than a king. I grinned as I ran my hand up and down one of the four bedposts. “Can you guess what I’m thinking?”
Her cheeks rose. “Now you have me imagining that red tie and” —her breasts heaved as she turned toward the bed— “and the posts…”
In a few strides, I was across the room to where Julia stood. Tipping her chin back with my thumb and finger, I brought her lips to mine. “You have a very vivid imagination. I’m getting hard.”
“We make a good pair.”
“We do.”
“We do,” she repeated with a grin. “You’re getting hard and I’m getting wet.”
My lips met hers.
In another life, at another time, I’d fuck her right here, right now.
I had.
Not Julia, but someone else.
I’d done it to mark her as mine. I then watched as guests whispered at the wrinkled dress and messed hair. I’d done it because I could, and in hindsight, I realized that I’d allowed my could to outweigh the repercussions.
It was a conquest and nothing more.
The difference between then and now had nothing to do with how much I wanted to fuck Julia at this moment. The difference was that Julia wasn’t a conquest to flaunt and even more importantly, she deserved better.
I could, but I wouldn’t.
Julia was mine. That fact didn’t need to be displayed by any means other than the ring on her finger. I also wouldn’t because with time I saw that those whispers and looks from years ago were demeaning toward the woman I fucked.