Page 21 of You Rock My World

JOSIE

I never imagined a hug could be the most satisfying sexual experience of my life, but here I am.

At first, Dorian’s embrace is chaste. His arms anchor me to him, firm but careful.

But then his hands begin to roam—up my back, down my arms, resting on my hips.

His thumbs press into my flesh, igniting my skin, while my face burrows into his chest, soaking in his scent and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

He draws small circles on my sides through the thin fabric of my dress, sending waves of electricity through my body. I sigh, my eyes fluttering closed as I savor the sensation.

Dorian’s hands travel upward, and he tilts my chin up, his gaze locking onto mine as he reaches up and undoes the topknot in my hair.

He steals my elastic and loops it over his wrist. He never looks away, even as he smooths my disheveled locks, trailing his fingers between the strands.

Every touch sends fire licking down my spine.

“Dorian.” My voice is unsteady, my mind reeling. “You hug a little too hard.”

A slow smile unzips across his face, his hands still tangled in my hair. “Am I being sanctioned?”

I move my hands from around his back, letting my fingers graze up his chest with featherlight strokes.

His T-shirt does a poor job of hiding the hard muscles underneath, compelling me to explore.

When he trembles at my touch, it’s a silent acknowledgment of my power over him that sends a thrill through me.

“I don’t think this amount of touching would’ve been acceptable in the Regency Era.” My lips brush close to his ear.

“Should I stop?”

I should tell him, yes, but it’s the last thing I want. My body betrays me, leaning infinitesimally closer, drawn to him as if magnetized, but I plead, “Please,” saying yes when I mean no.

He steps back, creating a sliver of distance between us, his hands still working through my hair. “I’ll be good, I promise,” he says, before placing a soft kiss on my forehead and letting go.

The gentle touch of his lips burns me, fire propagating from my hairline through my scalp, searing down my neck and shoulder blades, and then frying my nerves all the way down to my toes.

Dorian steps away completely, leaving me breathless and stunned.

The sudden absence of his touch is a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, a numbing shock.

I’m in a daze as he walks me to my car, holding my hand.

The gesture feels both silly and meaningful.

I glance down at our intertwined hands. His palm—dry, warm, reassuring—fits mine with a strangely familiar ease, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.

His hold on me is not possessive, or demanding, but certain. It’s nothing, and yet everything.

As we reach the patch of gravel in the front yard that his guests use as a makeshift parking lot, it’s clear neither of us wants to say goodbye.

I reconsider all my wise choices—deciding not to kiss him, not to explore this attraction physically until we’re both sure.

But certainty is a distant concept when my mind is a haze of confusion.

One moment, I’m convinced I know what I want— him ; the next, I doubt everything.

Am I star-struck? Is he? Like not star-struck but high on some sort of Stockholm syndrome from that night?

Is he too good to be true? Will he tire of me in no time?

Will this intensity fade, leaving me with nothing but regrets?

The questions pile on top of each other, making me unsteady and unsure. Yes, waiting is the smart thing to do.

As if reading my thoughts, Dorian cups my cheek, his touch gentle yet electric. “It sucks to have to wait, and it’s my fault. It’s going to be brutal—but I’m fully prepared to suffer dramatically and often if it is for you—for us .”

And then he kisses my forehead again, short-circuiting the last functioning neurons in my brain. I’m grinning like an idiot as I get into my car, but I can’t find it in me to care.

Dorian is holding the car door open for me. “See you tomorrow. Drive safe.”

He steps back, eyes intense, as he closes the door.

I drive straight to Lily’s place, hungry for the kind of comfort only family can offer.

She’s making dinner when I arrive—I can’t believe my lunch break with Dorian lasted the entire afternoon.

We eat together like always, but I barely taste anything.

I mostly listen to Penny chattering. Lily’s eyes track me, probably sensing I’ll need to vent later.

After dinner, Penny begs for an original mermaid story, so I tuck her in and weave a tale about a princess of the sea who lives in an enchanted coral reef and swims between two worlds.

Once Penny is asleep, I tiptoe out of the room, leaving her to dream of turquoise seas and magical adventures. Ah, if only real life could be as simple and enchanting as a bedtime story.

I find Lily on the patio seated at the table with two steaming mugs of red berries tea waiting. I settle in the free chair and grab the mug closest to me.

Lily doesn’t ask me anything. She waits for me to break. And it’s not long before the thoughts swirling in my mind demand an outlet. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

My sister watches me, her sad eyes filled with understanding and a hint of concern. She sips her tea, waiting patiently for me to continue.

And so, I spill everything. I tell her about my day with Dorian, the mature conversation we had about our feelings, and the hug that left me breathless and longing for more.

Lily listens, her expression neutral as she absorbs my words. Until I voice the doubt that has been torturing me all night. “Do you think I’m making a mistake? That I’ve picked an impossible man to love, and I’m only going to get my heart broken?”

My sister doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gazes out at the horizon, where the last streaks of sunset are being swallowed by darkness.

“You could have picked the most regular man.” My sister’s tone is measured when she finally speaks, “And he could still leave you. Even if he didn’t want to.

” Her voice catches as she turns to me, her eyes soft but serious, holding a wisdom born of experience and heartache. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

The words sink deep into my chest, heavy but undeniable. They aren’t the reassurance I had hoped for, but maybe they are better—brutal and unflinching like truth often is.

“You never fall for anyone,” Lily continues.

“When your last boyfriend asked you to move in with him, you broke off a two-year relationship without batting an eyelid. Then you spend a few hours locked in an elevator with Rian Phoenix and are heartbroken for a year. You can’t un-love him, Josie.

And if you don’t at least try, you’re going to regret it.

But it’s smart that you’re taking things slowly.

And it’s promising that he’s okay to wait. ”

We finish our tea in the growing darkness, the bond of sisterhood speaking louder than any words ever could.

As the night settles around us, I find a strange sense of peace in the uncertainty.

Love isn’t about guarantees or safe choices.

It’s about taking a leap of faith, even when the landing is uncertain. And maybe the heart really knows best.

* * *

As I step into my apartment, it’s late, but I’m not tired—more restless. The excitement of today coalesces into a fidgety energy that buzzes under my skin.

I get behind my laptop and polish my CV that I haven’t updated in years and set up various job alerts for positions in my field.

Dorian is right, I can change agencies. I like my colleagues, but I’m not close to anyone in particular at work.

And I don’t love Nadine. We coexist well thanks to the hierarchical levels separating us, which allow me to forget she exists.

When I’m done, I curl up on the couch, too jacked up for TV.

Instead, I grab my tablet, unhook my pen, and open my favorite design app.

The familiar interface soothes me, tugging me back to college, when I discovered digital design.

My major was communications, but my minor in visual arts unlocked a deeper hunger in me to illustrate my ideas.

Tonight, that need bubbles up again. I start sketching the mermaid kingdom from Penny’s bedtime story: swaying seaweed forests, coral castles, and glowing jellyfish.

When I reach the merman prince, he somehow ends up looking like Dorian—powerful jaw, intense eyes, an air of mystery.

I give him tattoos, inked dark against bronzed skin.

Time slips away. When I resurface, the screen glows with the start of a storybook. It’s exactly how I saw it while telling Penny her tale.

I hug the tablet to my chest. Penny will love it.

I smile at the handsome merman prince—bet Dorian would love this, too.

I stare out the window, picturing him in his mansion.

Will he be in the garden, stargazing? In his living room, composing?

Is he thinking about me? I wish I had the freedom to hop in my car and drive to his place, but I can’t.

I can only hope the heart gets what the heart wants.

“Soon,” I promise the night and get back to drawing.