Page 25 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Celeste

Julian is officially the most stubborn man alive.

I’ve lost count of how long he’s been running with me, but it’s every damn morning, Monday to Friday. This was supposed to be my peaceful morning routine. My zen time. Instead, it’s turned into a weird, silent game of chicken.

And every day, he inches closer. At this rate, next week he’ll be running in my sports bra.

Music hums in my left ear, and only my left ear because Julian has taken permanent ownership of my other earbud. On my right, the steady rhythm of his breathing matches my pace as if he’s synced himself just to annoy me.

I should hate it, but it’s stupidly comforting.

We don’t talk because I know how that goes. One word leads to ten, ten leads to lingering glances, and lingering glances lead straight to a disaster I’m not naming.

So I keep quiet, praying he’ll get bored and leave me to run in peace.

He never does.

We round the bend into the park just as the sun edges over the trees.

I always love this time of the day.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t.

Something shifts on a distant bench. Two bodies, to be exact.

“Are they—”

“Yep.” Julian cuts me off. “They’re fucking.”

My jaw drops.

On a park bench? At sunrise? Jesus. That’s a lot of ambition for a Tuesday.

I glance at him in disbelief, just in time to see his shock turn into barely contained laughter.

“Should we, I don’t know, call the police or something?”

His eyes light with mischief. “And say what exactly? ‘Hello officer, we’ve encountered some very enthusiastic public fornication. Please come quickly… before they do?’”

I choke on a laugh. “That’s disgusting.”

Still, my eyes betray me.

I can’t stop looking.

Why can’t I stop looking?

Yep, that’s definitely someone’s bare ass bouncing on a lap. And those sounds, dear God. That’s either an orgasm or a death rattle.

“Julian?” My voice edges toward a squeak. “Help me.”

“What?”

“I can’t stop looking.” I sob. “I’m traumatized. Help. Please, God, help me.”

Just as the man’s grunts reach an alarming crescendo, Julian loops an arm around my waist, claps his other hand firmly over my eyes, and keeps us running. My laugh is muffled against his palm, and I’m ninety percent sure he’s enjoying himself.

“Don’t look, Celeste,” he says. “It’ll all be over soon.”

We pass a woman doing sunrise yoga on the grass. She freezes mid-downward dog, eyes wide.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she calls out.

“Oh yeah!” I yell back, voice muffled against Julian’s hand. “This is just my friend being—”

“Efficient,” Julian cuts in without breaking stride.

“Kidnappy,” I finish.

The woman blinks and slowly lowers back into her pose.

We run like that, with him steering and me a flailing hostage, until the grunts fade into blessed silence.

When he finally lets go, we’re doubled over with my ribs aching from laughing so hard.

I look up at him, still panting. “Want to know something ironic?”

He sees it coming and shakes his head. “Don’t fucking say it, Celeste. Don’t you dare.”

“A blindfold would’ve come in handy right about now,” I say anyway.

Julian just blinks. One beat. Then we both lose it all over again.

∞∞∞

I should have known our brief truce wouldn’t last.

We’re downtown, turning a corner, and the easy rhythm we’d built over the past hour vanishes in an instant. My gaze catches on a black town car pulling to the curb. The passenger door opens, and Tom Kingsley steps out, buttoning his coat with that effortless arrogance that makes my skin crawl.

Shit. He’s early this morning.

Before I can think, I grab Julian’s forearm and yank him sideways into a shallow doorway.

I hate that his first instinct is to protect me. He cages me in without a second’s hesitation, his shoulders blocking me from view.

“What the hell, Celeste?” His breath is warm against my cheek.

I lift a finger past his shoulder. “Kingsley.”

His head jerks around, and his entire body stiffens.

When he looks back at me, his voice is a low growl. “You’re hiding from him?”

“He offered me a job,” I breathe, pulse spiking. “He doesn’t know how to take no for an answer. I can’t deal with him this morning.”

Julian’s gaze searches mine. “Has he—”

“No. Nothing like that. He’s just relentless. Calls, emails. He shows up where I am trying to charm an agreement from me. He doesn’t hear me.”

“He doesn’t hear you, or you haven’t made yourself clear enough?”

“I’ve made myself perfectly clear. Kingsley’s not used to being denied. ”

“Then maybe someone else needs to deliver the message.”

“Put your penis away, caveman. I can handle Kingsley.”

And then, because apparently my sanity is irrelevant, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“Promise me something, Celeste.” His voice is soft enough to hurt.

I look up, shivering. “What?”

“Don’t take that job.”

I force a smile. “Afraid I’ll move overseas? I thought you would celebrate. No more babysitting on morning runs.”

“I’m serious.” The snap in his voice kills my smile. “Kingsley’s company is a sinking ship. I won’t watch you drown with it.”

My eyes search his, but all I see is concern, honesty, and... affection.

No, don’t do this to me, Julian.

This isn’t what he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be a single night, one moment, one forgotten fantasy. Not this. Not this frustratingly beautiful man whose quiet concern is breaking through every carefully built barrier I’ve spent years creating.

Damn him for sneaking under my skin and making me feel things I was perfectly happy burying.

My irritation flares, but it’s directed more at myself. Julian’s just the unlucky bastard standing in front of me, about to bear the brunt of months’ worth of pent-up tension.

“Why do you care, huh? Seriously,” I gesture between us. “What the hell is this, you showing up and running with me every morning? I’m just a woman you fucked once.”

He grips my chin hard, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. “Careful, Celeste,” he warns. “You’re starting to sound emotional.”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “That’s it, isn’t it? You like the chase. You’ve literally been chasing me for weeks.” The cutting words spill out before I can stop them. “What is this, Julian? Are you that bored? Need another notch on your belt? I told you already, it was one night. Nothing.”

Lie. Every word.

“Honestly,” I whisper, “what are you doing?”

He leans in closer, the space between us vanishing until all I can see, all I can breathe, is him.

He’s just as angry now.

Just as tormented.

“You want honesty, Celeste?” he snaps in a whisper. “I can’t stay away from you. That’s why I’m here. Do I want to be? Fuck no. I’ve begged myself for weeks to stop, and yet, here I am.

“You drive me insane by merely breathing. Every time you look at me, all I can think about is pinning you beneath me again. Finally tasting your mouth. Tasting every inch of you. Driving my cock into you so deep you see stars. And the whole time, Celeste, the whole goddamn time, all I want is to watch those beautiful fucking eyes fall apart while I do it.”

My breath stalls in my chest as blood rushes hot beneath my skin. Anger, desire, and shock all wage war inside me.

How dare he?

Weeks—months, even—I’ve spent fighting every unwanted feeling sparked by that single night at the club. Months spent meticulously fortifying emotional barriers only for Julian to stroll through and kick up his feet, just to shatter every effort I’ve made.

I shove both palms hard against his chest, forcing space between us even though every nerve ending in my body protests. “Fuck you, Julian. How’s that for honesty?”

A wicked smile curves his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, I really wish you would.”

I storm past him, breaking from the shadowed doorway, lungs heaving as I take off running again. Anger propels me forward, every footfall slamming into the pavement beneath me.

For a fleeting moment, I think maybe he won’t follow me. Maybe he’ll finally give me space, let me go back to the quiet existence I had before he crashed into my life like a hurricane.

No such luck.

Seconds later, the familiar rhythm of his footfalls echoes behind me. My heart pounds harder, frustration and something dangerously close to desire mingling in a toxic cocktail that only fuels my pace.

God, I want to scream. I want to lash out, to slap him, kiss him, to sink to my knees and beg him to make good on every filthy promise he just made.

Quickening my steps, I push harder until my muscles are burning.

I fly past my favorite coffee shop—the one place that provides a brief morning reprieve with an oat milk latte I always crave.

Now Julian’s ruining that, too. He’s taking even the small routines from me, invading every inch of my carefully structured life.

I don’t even slow down when I reach my building, not bothering to turn around to retrieve the other earbud. He can keep it.

A shower doesn’t help. Hot water pounds my skin but does nothing to wash away my anger or the simmering ache he’s left behind.

I’m still fuming when I step out of the elevator at work. Barely able to greet the people I pass, I storm into my office only to freeze in place.

Sitting on my desk with condensation beading along the sides is a fresh oat milk latte from my favorite coffee shop.