Page 30 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Celeste

When I walk back into the apartment after sending out a very excited Emmy—who made it painfully clear she knew about the sex club and swore she’d hold it over Madison forever because she met Julian first—I’ve already hugged the kids and said goodnight to her husband.

We’re alone now. Really alone. Not the kind of alone that follows sex, when the air is still thick with sweat and satisfaction, but the kind that comes after whatever the hell this evening was.

Like…he ate dinosaur nu ggets.

I step cautiously into the kitchen and halt mid-step.

Sweet lord, have mercy.

He’s washing the dishes.

I linger and stare from the doorway. He doesn’t look at me, but I see that wicked smirk playing on his profile.

“You tell your friends everything, huh?”

“Yep. Absolutely everything,” I admit, grabbing a towel.

“Didn’t we sign an NDA?”

“I didn’t give away any of the important details. I only told them that I met you there. Besides, that NDA was moot the day you pinned me to my door in my office.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that.

“You babysit often?” he asks instead.

I take a plate from him and start drying it. “Whenever I can force Emmy and Joe to go out on a date.”

He nods.

I don’t know why, but I keep going. “We all lived together when Emmy got pregnant with Sasha—me, Emmy, and Madison. For the first few years, it was just us trying to raise a baby together. Then Joe came along and swept both of them off their feet.” I smile as he glances at me with warmth in his eyes.

“Sorry about that, by the way. I’m sure you didn’t come here for my excellent cooking skills. ”

“Those were the best dinosaur nuggets I’ve ever had.”

“Eat them often, do you?”

“I will from now on.”

I laugh, but when I meet his eyes, he’s already watching me with a ghost of a smile lingering at his lips .

He looks pleased with himself.

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“You’ve got a good laugh.”

My stomach twists, and I feel a rush of heat climb up my neck.

He resumes washing the oven tray, so I toss the towel down and push myself onto the counter. “When I don’t have a moody, sex-obsessed man around me, I laugh often.”

His head snaps up. “I’m not moody…all the time.”

Noted that he didn’t deny the sex-obsessed part.

I’ve seen a different side of him tonight.

A side where he smiles freely.

Where he laughs too.

Where he eats dinosaur-shaped chicken and plays restaurant with a little boy.

“No,” I murmur. “I guess you’re not.”

Placing the tray on the drying rack, he reaches for the towel.

At least, I think that’s what he’s doing, but instead, he pauses, like a better idea just occurred to him.

Before I get the chance to move, he wipes his suds-covered fingers right across my nose.

Dish soap.

Bubbles.

Right there. On my face.

I go completely still.

This feels like a rare moment of calm between us, sweet even, where I’m not trying to claw his eyes out or he’s not undressing me with his stare.

I wipe some off my face and smear it on his. “You could use some to wash out that filthy mouth of yours.”

He steps closer until he’s wedged between my legs. “ Filthy mouth, huh?”

“Yes.” In my best Julian imitation, I lower my voice as much as I can. “Good girl, Celeste. Do as you’re told, Celeste. Let me just piss a giant circle around you, Celeste. You’re mine, mine, mine.”

Julian stares at me for long seconds until his laugh rips through the air, his body shaking as he braces a hand on the counter.

It’s not the controlled laugh I’ve heard before, or the calculated smirk of amusement he usually gives people.

This is real.

I grin, basking in my victory.

“That was awful,” he says, shaking his head.

“Excuse you. I think I embodied you perfectly.”

Still grinning, he picks up the towel and gently wipes the suds from my skin.

This isn’t the first time he’s cleaned me up.

Not even close.

It’s all flashing through my mind.

The way he’s so filthy with his words, so ruthless with his touch, and yet he’s the one taking care of me afterward.

This should be so insignificant. A man wiping soap suds off my nose should mean nothing, but somehow, it feels intimate.

His fingers rest at my jaw, his thumb moving softly over my cheek.

My breath escapes in a controlled exhale, while my pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that I almost miss the moment he leans in. The simple touch of his lips against mine is gentle enough to ignite a deep, aching pull low in my belly.

When his mouth claims mine, it feels different from this morning’s battle. We’re no longer two people at war. We’ve stepped into something more vulnerable.

His hands settle on my waist, sliding beneath the hem of my sweater. His fingertips burn a path against my skin as he pulls me toward the edge of the counter.

The kiss is a slow exploration, as if he’s tasting me, mapping me, learning me all over again.

His fingers weave into my hair, tugging just enough to position my face exactly where he wants it.

Each stroke of his tongue makes me tremble, the world outside this moment fading away until there’s only him.

When he pulls back, we’re both panting. His eyes blaze as he stares straight into me. No walls. No pretense.

When he tugs off my sweater, his gaze drops to my breasts. A quiet groan escapes him before he dips his head, capturing one hardened peak in his mouth and circles his tongue around it.

Sliding his hands under my thighs, he lifts me briefly as he pulls my leggings and underwear off, discarding them somewhere across the kitchen floor.

He steps back just enough to look at me, naked and perched on the countertop.

“Fucking beautiful,” he rasps.

He strips off his clothes, each chiseled line of his body revealed in unhurried motions. This time, he lets me look. He lets me take him in, and he doesn’t move until I have.

When he comes back to me, he’s thick and hot between my thighs. One slow thrust and he’s pushing inside, filling me inch by inch until there’s no space left between us.

This isn’t dominance. This is vulnerability wrapped in quiet command .

I hook my legs tighter around him, matching his rhythm, our breaths tangling as we find the same pace.

Each thrust grows deeper, more powerful, but still careful. My body feels raw and exposed with every movement dragging me closer to the edge.

“What are you doing to me?” he groans, lips pressing beneath my ear.

The ache in his voice slides into my chest and lodges there.

The pleasure grows slowly, heat building until it crashes over me. This isn’t the violent rush from this morning. This is so much deeper. It’s a quake moving through my bones.

He’s watching me when it hits him, too. My name leaves him in a rough, unguarded groan.

I hold onto him, not because I need the support, but because I’m not ready to let go.