Page 6

Chapter 6

Juliette

Seventeen Years Ago - That Night

With his dark eyes on me and that accent as he talked, he could stare at me and speak all day and all night for the rest of human history, and I’d submit without question.

My entire body shuddered at his every touch, and when he pushed my panties out of the way and his fingers made contact between my legs, he swallowed my cry with his mouth.

I held on to him tight, and he held me right back. He kissed me fervently, like he wanted to devour me.

“More,” I pleaded, and he walked me backward and to the wall.

He knelt before me, and I gasped in surprise at what he planned to do.

Panic set in, and I shoved at his hard shoulders before his tongue had a chance to slip across my heated skin. “No.” My voice wobbled from nerves. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, do I?” A wolfish grin crossed his lips as he hooked the hem of my panties, urging the fabric to fall to my ankles. “Well, what if I want to? Desperately, in fact.”

My entire body was probably blushing at his husky words, and now I had to tell him something semi-embarrassing with him kneeling before me. “No one has ever . . .”

His brows shot up. Genuine shock on his face. He looked off to the side, saying something in another language, doubtfully Spanish based on the little I recalled from high school.

I wasn’t worldly or well-traveled enough to identify where he was from by his accent or words alone.

My dad was from Scotland, but he hadn’t even taken me there to visit. Aruba was my first time outside the United States. I was sheltered, to put it mildly.

I’m here with this man because I want different. I want to feel something. To feel alive.

“My ex wasn’t into it, so he never did it.” Great, keep killing the mood. “But um, if you really want to, then yes. But if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”

“I’m beginning to hate your ex.” His brows tightened, his gaze flying between my legs. “And I really, really want to taste you. But I don’t want to pressure you.”

Gentleman, are you? A gentleman who wanted to eat me out. Who was I to say no to that? Based on how he kissed my mouth, I could only imagine what it’d be like if he set those lips anywhere else on my body.

“I want you to do it.” I lifted my hands from his shoulders to the sides of his head, threading my fingers through his thick hair. “Please. I want to know how it feels. I want you to be the one to show me.”

He was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “Just a stranger in the night making you come on my tongue.”

Holy hell, when he said it like that, and with that deep voice flavored by a sexy accent, I’d carry this man’s child if he asked me to.

“Tell me one more time. What do you want me to do?” He shifted his head, so his eyes were pointed up at me.

“Kiss me there. ” That was the best dirty talking I could do.

He kept his eyes on mine, dark and burning with intent. He wanted to see the way I unraveled for him. The way my body responded the second his mouth touched the sensitive bundle of nerves aching for him.

At first, he kissed me softly. Slow and reverent. A whisper of his lips against mine down there , tender and teasing, sending a full-body shiver rippling through me. I flinched, anticipation coiling tight, desperate for more.

And then, God help me, he parted me with his tongue, tasting me, and I let out the loudest moan of my life. No shame. No hesitation. Just raw uninhibited pleasure tearing through me.

If you looked up the definition of bliss, this was it.

Everything blurred into sighs and cries of ecstasy. My fingers fisted in his thick hair, tugging and gripping. Self-control shattered, I rocked against his face, chasing the pleasure he so effortlessly unraveled from my body.

And then he destroyed me. Sent a blinding orgasm ricocheting through me. Pleasure crashed and drowned me from its intensity. My legs shook, my breath hitched, and he held me there, drawing out every last tremor until I was nothing but a shuddering, blissed-out mess.

Before I could even comprehend what had happened, he’d scooped me into his arms and carried my sated body toward the hallway of bedrooms.

“Which one is yours?” His voice was rough, like he was holding on by a thread.

I barely managed to point to mine before he had us there, even turning on the light switch with his shoulder in my beach-themed room.

Once I was on the canopy bed, I gazed up at him, dreamlike and dazed. I did my best not to feel so embarrassed about my body and its imperfections while being basked in light under the heat of his stare.

He pulled condoms from his wallet and placed them on the nightstand before undressing, and I greedily drank him in.

Sleek. Toned. Perfect. His upper body was all hard lines and flawless strength, muscles carved and heavenly.

I may have even gasped at the size and thickness of his shaft. I slapped a hand over my mouth, mortified at the shriek, but he only smirked.

He joined me on the bed after that and took his time to appreciate my body. To touch and kiss every part of me. He even found the ticklish parts on my legs and had me laughing. His husky laugh in response to mine warmed my heart and melted my insides.

This man was something else, and someone I’d never forget.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.” His promise before we made love had my attention falling from his eyes to his kill-me-now length, then back to his face again. His weight, his warmth, his presence was all-consuming. “I got you,” he murmured before I guided him to my center, and he pushed inside me.

And he truly did. He had me in every way that mattered, in the ways I hadn’t even known existed. He showed me how it was meant to be between two lovers. How it felt to be cherished and worshipped. It was intoxicating and addictive.

Saying goodbye now? Impossible. Name or not, he was already etched into me.

But when he made love to me a second time that night, it was . . . well, otherworldly .

We connected on a level beyond flesh and pleasure. Something primal. Ancient.

Like I was his missing rib. Eve to his Adam. Like we belonged together.

No words passed between us after that. Just a quiet, unshakeable understanding. At some point, I fell asleep in his arms, feeling safer than I ever had in my life.

And then, my world stopped. Because I woke up. And he was gone.

I jolted upright, heart hammering, wild hope surging as I heard noise coming from the living room. Maybe it was him? Maybe he was still here, and I wasn’t too late?

I scrambled out of bed so fast I nearly face-planted on the floor, tangled in the sheets.

Gripping the sheet around me like a toga, I ran into the living room, breathless, praying.

But he wasn’t there. The noise had come from my drunk friends.

The terrace door was open, and Lizzy and Josie stood outside by the pool, champagne in hand, laughing without a care in the world.

“Where is he?” I sputtered, fighting back tears.

“Who?” Josie asked around a hiccup, drinking champagne from the bottle.

Lizzy snatched a napkin stuck to the bottom of the bottle and flung it toward the pool.

As I stepped outside, my gaze landed on the napkin midair.

There was writing on it.

I may have lost my mind and my sheet, but I maneuvered between them, lunging forward and jumping into the shallow end.

“Jules! What is wrong with you?” Lizzy yelled as I snatched the napkin from the water, holding it up, dripping wet, as I walked back over.

Josie squatted next to me. “Girl, what is up with you?”

The sun had set, but the patio lights were on, casting enough of a glow for me to see what remained of the ink on the napkin. A smeared, inky mess.

“No, no, no.” I squeezed my eyes shut and hung my head. “He left me a note, but it’s gone.”

You felt something, too. You didn’t just walk away without a word. You left me your number, and now it’s gone .

I opened my eyes, blinking back tears, desperate to salvage whatever was still legible.

Three digits of a phone number. Not the area code. Useless. A few smudged words I could barely make out. Incredible. Change. Strangers. At the end of the message, one letter had survived.

C.

The letter stood out like a beacon of hope I refused to let go of.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Lizzy asked as Josie helped me out of the water.

I ignored her. “What time is it?”

Lizzy gave me a funny look, then checked her phone. “Nine-ish.”

There might be time. “The airport’s only ten minutes away. Maybe I can catch him?”

“Catch who ?” Josie called after me as I bolted inside.

“I need the car keys for the rental. I’m going after him!”

“Um, girl, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lizzy said from behind, “but maybe put some clothes on first?”

* * *

One Month Later - Anchorage, Kentucky

I’d spent two days bawling my eyes out. Forty-eight hours of taking test after test to confirm what couldn’t possibly be true. I’m pregnant.

My hand trembled as I picked up my phone and flipped it open. I had no plans to call my best friends or parents—not yet at least. There was only one person I was convinced could help.

My stepbrother was in the Air Force, and while he hadn’t been in the service too long, maybe he knew someone who could help. Since he was on leave, I assumed it’d be safe to call him.

Easton picked up on the second ring. He’d always been there for me—ever since my mom married his dad when I was fourteen and he was fifteen. He was the brother I’d always wanted but never had. He’d welcomed me into his family without any pushback, and I’d be forever grateful to him for helping me get through my mom remarrying after leaving my dad.

“Hey, you okay? It’s midnight your time.”

Is it? I dropped down on my bed and started sobbing all over again. I’d probably lost a pound of tears in the last forty-eight hours.

“Can you give me a minute alone?” I heard him whisper.

And crap, he probably had a woman in his bed.

He gave me time to get a grip and finish crying before asking, “Did someone hurt you? What’s wrong? How can I help?”

Holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder, I wrapped myself up in a blanket and sat up against the headboard. “I’m pregnant.” It was the first time I’d said those words out loud. Now they were real. No takebacks. It was happening.

A heavy breath fell over the line, creating static.

He had to be shocked. His never-in-trouble stepsister was now very much deep in it.

“I don’t know who the father is.” Well, that sounds horrible. I quickly explained what had happened, leaving out a few details he wouldn’t want to hear, then finished with, “We, um, were safe, though. No idea how this happened.” I sniffled. “I’m telling you because I’m hoping you can help me find him.”

“I, uh. Well, damn.”

“I thought maybe you’d have some spy friends who’d have access to the best tools to track down people and all.”

“I’m Air Force, not special ops. Not CIA.” No sarcasm from him. Just stating facts. He didn’t want me getting my hopes up if he couldn’t deliver.

I know, I know. “But I was hoping you’d know someone who could pull security footage from the bar and my hotel. If there’s a photo of his face, we can get a name, right?” When he didn’t reject the idea, I kept going, spilling as much information as I could remember. “Pretty sure his first initial is C. Older than me, but definitely still in his twenties. Also, he had an accent. Maybe Greek or Italian. Turkish? Somewhere Mediterranean. Tan, dark eyes, and brownish-black hair. Tall.”

He was quiet for one of the longest minutes of my life, second only to waiting on the results of that first pregnancy test. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” I did my best not to start crying again. “He has to know I’m pregnant with his child and having his baby.”

“What about medical school? Your dreams? Your dad is going to freak.”

I shifted the blanket aside and felt my stomach, feeling life inside me. Not just my soul, my child’s was there, too.

“My dreams aren’t over because I’m having a child.” Being rerouted for a bit, maybe. Even if I had to say goodbye to becoming a doctor, so be it. “And I’ll handle my dad.” But yeah, he’ll be disappointed, and that’s going to shred me.

“Well, yeah, okay. If this is what you want, I support you.” He paused. “I’ll do my best to help you find him, but I?—”

“Please.” I couldn’t handle any realistic warnings about improbabilities. “He has to know. He has to know he’s going to be a dad.”

“I promise I’ll try.” His words rumbled over the line.

I did my best to latch on to them, to believe he’d succeed because he had to. My child needed their father. And maybe I needed him, too.