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“My mother used to work in a place like that. There are a lot of them around. A lot of people who need help.”
Jenny studied his face as if this were the first time she was seeing it. And god help him, he felt seen. She stepped nearer and laid a hand against his cheek. “You’re just about perfect, you know that?”
“No one’s perfect. But you’re as close?—”
“You don’t have to lie.” Her gaze darkened, hand dropping to her side. “I know what I am—I’m the only girl in that club who has to wear a shirt.”
“You’re the only one Waylon is threatened by.”
Jenny balked. “That doesn’t make any?—”
“You’re smarter than he is, and he knows it. Making you believe you’re less-than is the only way he has any control. Don’t give him that, Jenny.”
Her eyes filled. “Julie,” she whispered.
His heart thundered in his ears. He traced a finger down the side of her face. “Julie,” he said, testing it out. “It’s a beautiful name.”
Her lips twitched into a smile, but her eyes stayed glassy, tears on the verge of falling. She pulled back before they could, then started for the bathroom.
Ronan stared after her. Had he gone too far? Probably—he usually did.
“I’ll be in the kitchen. I’ll let you?—”
“Wait.” She turned back. “Will you… stay here? I don’t want to be alone.”
Oh. Right. “Of course. And I promise not to peek.”
She met his eyes. Then she peeled the sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. The bra came next, breasts round and perfect, nipples already hard.
Ronan’s breath shuddered from his lungs. He took a step toward her, but she turned around, hooked her fingers into her belt loops, and bent at the waist, shimmying her jeans down her toned thighs. Baring her pussy from behind—pink and glistening. Already wet.
His mouth watered, his fingers burning with the need to touch her, his dick so hard he could feel the bite of the metal zipper against his shaft.
Julie righted herself. “I want you to peek,” she said without turning around.
Then she stepped through the wide-open door into the bathroom.
Ronan watched as she glided over the tile with that grace he’d first noticed in the club. Was he supposed to follow? But she hadn’t asked him to follow. She’d asked him to… peek.
He backed away and lowered himself to sit on the end of the bed, directly across from the bathroom door. Julie—he loved how the name sounded in his head, had loved the way it felt on his tongue. Loved more that she’d trusted him enough to share it.
Julie glanced back, making sure he was paying attention.
He was. He definitely was.
The bathtub was off to the right, situated in an alcove with wide skylights so you could watch the sunset while your fingers got wrinkly. There was a television on the wall, but he’d never used it. On the left side of the space was the sauna, fronted with a wooden door.
But the glassed-in shower was straight ahead.
Julie reached in to twist the knobs. The waterfall shower heads turned on, water hissing against the marble floor. She stood, nude, gorgeous, feeling for temperature, then stepped beneath the spray.
His dick throbbed as he watched the water flow over her skin. She reached for the shampoo, breasts swaying slightly as she washed her hair. Soap cascaded down her body, rivers of bubbles caressing all the places he wanted to touch.
He unzipped his pants, the buckle clanking as he kicked them aside. Tossed his shirt, too, ignoring the twinge from the gauze—the tape.
Julie met his eyes through the hazy shower door. She pinched her nipples with both hands.
Ronan took his dick in his fist as she slipped her fingertips down over her ribs, past her navel, to rest between her legs. The fog in the shower turned the hazy lines of her body into a tease, but he could tell she was spreading her sweet pussy for him. Practically begging to be fucked.