Pick us back

chapter 13

The transition from the dark, quiet sanctuary of the bedroom to the reality of the next day was slow and gentle. Nova woke to the soft light of dawn creeping around the edges of the blackout curtains and the smell of high-quality coffee and sizzling bacon wafting under the door.

She groans whacking her pillow, Julian's voice, thick with sleep and vibrating against her back, sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the morning chill. "Stop hitting me, baby girl," he murmured, his hands grounding her by the hips.

She sits up her robe falling off her shoulder, Julian looks up at her Julian's smirking gaze was far too appreciative as he watched her brain try to play catch-up with the situation. His thumb strokes her waist. Good morning beautiful , how do you feel?

Nova shifts restlessly on Julian's lap, trying to find a comfortable position. "I feel good," she mutters, her eyes finally drifting to the view outside the window. As she continues to settle against him, a low groan vibrates from Julian's chest.

"Baby girl," he whispers, his fingers firm as he tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Stop moving."

He leans in until their foreheads touch, and the sudden stillness allows Nova to realize exactly why he's struggling. The heat of him is unmistakable beneath his sweatpants. Her breath hitches, her lips parting as she subconsciously licks them.

Julian's eyes darken. He bites his own lip, his voice dropping to a rough strain.

"I know this is probably the wrong time, but can I-"

He doesn't get to finish. Seeing him focused on her mouth is all the invitation Nova needs; she throws her arms around his neck and crashes her lips against his. Julian groans into the kiss, tasting her with a desperate, starving hunger. "f**k," he mutters against her skin. "This is better than I expected."

He maneuvers her quickly, turning her over until he's hovering above her. He pins her wrists over her head with one hand, his other hand sliding to the curve of her throat. He nips at her bottom lip before abruptly pulling back, his breathing ragged.

"I have to stop," he says, the words a struggle. "I don't want to rush this with you. You deserve the world."

Before the moment can settle, the bedroom door swings open with a violent thud. Marcus and Ezra stand in the threshold, their expressions stony.

"Julian, what the f**k?" Marcus grits out, his jaw tight.

Julian exhales sharply and steps off the bed, pausing only to press a lingering kiss to Nova's forehead. "Get dressed," he says quietly.

I'm left breathless on the mattress, my heart hammering against my ribs as I try to process the whiplash of the last few seconds. When I look up, Ezra catches my eye; he lets out a small smirk and offers a slow wink. Marcus, however, looks like he's vibrating with pure rage.

"Get dressed," Marcus snaps. Before I can even open my mouth to retort, he turns on his heel and storms off.

"Marcus!" I call out after him, my voice cracking as I watch his retreating back.He stops dead in his tracks but doesn't turn around, his shoulders tense and bunched under his jacket.

"Can I borrow a clean shirt?" I ask, my voice small. I look down at the fabric clutched in my hands, the dark, copper-scented stains standing out starkly against the material. "Mine is... it's covered in blood."

The silence in the hallway is deafening. Julian looks down at me, his expression softening with a flash of guilt, while Ezra's smirk finally falters, his eyes dropping to the ruined shirt.

Marcus stands frozen for a long second before he finally looks back over his shoulder. The anger is still there, simmering behind his eyes, but it wavers when he sees the state of me. Without a word, he wrenches open the drawer of a nearby dresser, pulls out a heavy black t-shirt, and hurls it toward the bed.

"Put it on," he orders, his voice low and dangerous. "And get to the kitchen. Now."He doesn't wait for a response this time, his boots thudding rhythmically against the floor as he disappears around the corner. I'm left clutching his shirt-it's huge, smelling faintly of cedar and cold air-while the reality of the morning finally starts to sink in

Once the door clicks shut, I fall back against the pillows, a frustrated groan escaping my throat. "f**k," I breathe out, staring at the ceiling. My skin still feels electric where Julian touched me; the memory of his kiss flashes back-that desperate, starving hunger-and I can't help the low moan that slips out.

I force myself to move before I lose my nerve. Reaching for the black shirt Marcus threw at me, I peel off my ruined, blood-stained top and toss it aside. Marcus's shirt is huge on me, the fabric cool and smelling sharply of cedar, but it's a shield I desperately need. I tug on my jeans, lacing up my boots with shaking fingers, and take one long, shaky breath to steady my heart.

The house feels unnervingly quiet as I step into the hallway. I make my way to the kitchen, the weight of the silence pressing in on me. I know they're waiting, and I know Marcus isn't finished.I round the corner into the kitchen, my boots clicking against the tile, and find them all there.