Authors: Greta Milán
“You Spaniards make such a fuss about the cold.”
“True. We like it nice and hot,” said Gabriel. “It’s because we’ve got fire in our hearts, babe.”
As they walked, they exchanged news about their friends and the classes Gabriel would be taking the following semester.
Shortly before they reached her door, Gabriel broke off mimicking their criminal law professor and looked ahead with a frown. Julie followed his gaze, and her heart skipped a beat in surprise and pleasure at the sight of Bastian.
He was leaning against the wall of the building watching them approach. She suddenly realized that Gabriel still had his arm round her to protect her from the cold.
“Uh-oh,” murmured Gabriel. “When a man has that kind of look about him, he’s either got a huge hangover or woman troubles.”
Julie glanced uncertainly at Gabriel, who slowly withdrew his arm from her shoulder and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Julie could see something wasn’t right. Although it must appear as though she and Gabriel were together, she could explain that he was nothing more than a good friend. She had eyes only for Bastian.
The trouble was that the man standing there was someone completely different from the man she’d known the night before. His standoffishness had returned, reminding her of the arrogant photographer she’d met at the opening.
Despite her unease, Julie gave him a light kiss on the cheek when they arrived at her building. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Bastian, this is Gabriel,” Julie said, “a good friend of mine from law school.”
Seeming undeterred by Bastian’s reserve, Gabriel offered his hand with a grin. Bastian shook his hand listlessly.
“I should get myself a pair of those,” said Gabriel, glancing at his gloves.
A small muscle twitched beneath Bastian’s eye, but he said nothing.
“Would you like to come up and have some coffee with us?” Julie asked Gabriel innocently, praying he’d decline.
Gabriel gave her an understanding smile. “No, thanks. I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you Friday at the party.”
“Sounds good,” said Julie with relief.
Gabriel gave Julie a farewell hug. “Good to see you again, querida.”
“You too. Give my love to the others.”
“I certainly will.” Gabriel nodded to Bastian and left.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Bastian said tonelessly, “I’d hate to spoil your evening.”
“You haven’t. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Is he the one?”
“Which one?” asked Julie with a frown.
“Your escort for the family party.”
Julie’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, it’s not like that. Gabriel and I just used to study together. We happened to run into each other on the street.”
“So that means you’re going to your father’s party with another man,” observed Bastian.
“Not necessarily,” began Julie. “I was going to ask you, but my family can be a bit difficult and I wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t want to rush into things.”
“So you decided to give priority to another man,” said Bastian.
“Of course not.”
Bastian laughed and took a step back. It was obvious he didn’t believe her.
“Now wait a minute,” said Julie, reaching for his hand. The leather of his glove felt cold in her warm fingers and reminded her of the reason for his mistrust.
He squeezed her hand briefly before releasing her and taking a deep breath. “I’m no good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Sharing,” he stated bluntly.
She stepped up to him and raised a hand to his face in an attempt to direct his gaze toward her. Once she was sure she had his full attention, she said softly, “No one’s asking you to.”
She drew his face down to hers and laid her lips on his. Although he seemed to return her kiss reluctantly at first, his resistance gradually tapered off. She felt him returning to her.
C
HAPTER
15
“So will you come to this stupid family party with me?” Julie asked breathlessly after pulling away from him.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But I’d love it if you did.” She put an affectionate arm around him. “I would’ve asked you yesterday, but I was afraid of scaring you away.”
He pressed his lips to her brow and ran his hand gently down her back. He couldn’t believe what she was saying.
She leaned back against his arm and studied him critically. “So?” she insisted.
“I’ll come,” he decided in a daze.
Julie beamed. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, can we go inside, please?” she asked. “I’m so cold.”
They settled themselves comfortably on her sofa, sitting next to each other with a blanket over them both. She had lit the candles on her coffee table, poured two glasses of wine, and put on some soft jazz in the background. Julie handed Bastian a plate with a reasonable portion of glass noodles, observed closely by Spot.
“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have ordered more. I know how much you can put away.”
“Sorry I didn’t call you back earlier.”
“I’m just happy you’re here now.” She offered Spot a small piece of chicken. The cat snapped it from her hand greedily and crawled away under the sofa with her catch.
“When did you leave this morning?” Julie asked, winding noodles onto her fork.
“Around eight o’clock.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Do you always wake up so early?”
“No, but from the look of horror on your face, I take it you’re a serial late sleeper,” he joked.
“Whenever I get the opportunity. But you could have woken me up anyway.”
“You looked so content.”
“I was content.”
Her eyes sparkled, and he paused, entranced. Good God. Looking at her in the candlelight, her cheeks still flushed from the cold, almost robbed him of the ability to think. All the more so since they were talking about lying asleep together. Bastian awkwardly stuffed some noodles into his mouth.
“What did you do today?” he asked stiffly.
“I had to go visit my parents. It’s a command performance. Every Sunday, my sister, her family, and I are condemned to go and listen to my mother’s words of wisdom over a cup of coffee.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Bastian.
“You’ve got no idea,” replied Julie with a pained grin. As they ate their noodles, she described her mother’s latest acquisitions with an exuberant show of bewilderment. Once she had finished, she placed the empty plates on the table and moved closer to him, not appearing to think twice about curling up in his arms. He stroked her hair, lost in thought.
“Ouch,” squeaked Julie. Bastian looked at her in confusion. His leather gloves had gotten tangled in some stray hairs.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
Julie tilted her head to free the strands, then looked at his gloves. “Can we agree that you take them off at least when we’re here together?” she asked softly.
Bastian stiffened, but as his desire to feel her was overwhelming. He agreed to her request. Julie snuggled back into his arms as soon as he’d thrown them on the table.
“Better,” she whispered.
He tucked one hand out of sight beside his lap and resumed stroking her hair with the other. He would have thought that her thick brown hair would feel coarse or dry, but it was as soft as her skin. Julie let out a relaxed sigh beneath his touch. Lulled by the soft candlelight and quiet music, he felt more relaxed than he had in ages. Julie’s hand wandered slowly over his belly, up to his chest. God, she felt fantastic.
“How was your day?” murmured Julie.
Bastian suddenly felt as though someone had poured a bucket of cold water over him.
“You really want to know?” he replied with a frustrated laugh. “Awful!”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked, letting her hand rest on his chest.
“I was at the hospital all day with Elena’s brother, Felix. He’s got the same condition I do, but worse,” he explained as he wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “You remember what I told you about the different types?”
“He’s the one with the severe version of the lighter form,” she said. “Isabelle’s told me about him.”
Bastian tensed beneath her. “What did she say?”
“She doesn’t know much. Only that his situation’s very difficult and that Elena gives him a lot of support. She doesn’t know him personally.” Julie looked up at him. “Is it really that bad?” she asked.
“It’s hard to describe. It’s not the same as in my case. Although I get hurt every now and then, people can touch me without any serious consequences. With Felix, even the slightest contact is enough to hurt him. A clap on the shoulder, an excessively strong handshake. He can’t walk more than two hundred yards. His body’s bandaged more or less from head to toe, partly to protect him. But he gets hurt anyway. Two days ago he fell and hurt himself pretty badly. He’ll have to spend the next few days in the hospital until he’s recovered.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
She ran her hand up his chest over his collarbone to his neck. Her small, gentle hands began stroking his cheek, lightly grazing his five-o’clock shadow. He nestled his face against her hand and explored her soft palm with his lips.
“How long have you known each other?” Julie asked.
He pressed a kiss to her palm before answering her. “For about five years. We met in the Department of Dermatology of the university hospital. We were both there for a routine examination.”
Julie reached for his other hand and began to play with his fingers. As she said nothing, he continued.
“There had been some emergency that day, so we had to sit in the waiting room for ages. Felix was so bored after ten minutes that he started chattering at me and never stopped.” Bastian laughed as he remembered. “At first, I was a bit irritated, but he didn’t let that stop him. When Felix’s name was finally called two hours later, we were in the middle of a heated discussion about the Formula 1 season. He was a McLaren fan.” Bastian snorted. “No one’s perfect, I guess. But as soon as I saw his enthusiasm, I knew I liked him.”
It had taken a long time for Bastian to open up to him. He had occasionally failed to keep his feelings under control, and it was like a volcano erupting when that happened. It had been particularly bad in the early days, but Felix had stuck to their friendship like glue and trusted that Bastian would one day get back on an even keel.
For Bastian, it was a completely new feeling to have found a brother, not only because of their shared skin condition, but above all because they laughed at the same jokes and shared the same fears.
“Which Formula 1 team are you a fan of?” asked Julie.
“None. I’m not as committed as Felix. I’m just fascinated by the sport in general. The speed of the track, the teams’ tactics, the drivers’ talent.”
“Have you ever seen a race live?”
“Three years ago, Felix, Elena, and I went to a Grand Prix.”
Bastian told Julie all about that day: the pits, the cars, the drivers, the rostrum—to his own great surprise, sparing her no details. It had been one of the few perfect days of his life. He and Elena had planned the trip in secret well in advance. They’d bundled Felix into the backseat of the car at dawn and driven for three hours to the racetrack. Although they had steadfastly refused to reveal where they were going, Felix worked it out for himself when they got off the freeway and broke into childish euphoria. His mood darkened briefly when Bastian pulled a wheelchair out of the trunk upon arrival, but since hours of standing would have been far too much for him, he gritted his teeth and gave in. Even the weather had cooperated that day, and a lightly clouded sky prevented the sun from beating down on them. He could still feel the joy of that day as he described it to Julie.
“Is it really as loud as people say?” asked Julie.
“We used earplugs,” he said with a lopsided grin.
Julie giggled. “Wimp.”
Bastian raised a scornful eyebrow. “Are you calling me a sissy?”
“Or coward even,” she said helpfully.
Quick as lightning, he grabbed her and pushed her down beneath him on the sofa. And then he did something he had never done in his life before: he tickled her.
Julie wriggled, laughing and squealing, but her defense was not strong enough to worry him. He felt her every movement beneath him, registered every inch of skin she bared as she struggled. When he finally let her go, her chest was heaving, but he knew it was a result of the exertion of their fight. Entranced by the desire in her eyes, he brought his face so close to hers that their noses almost touched.
He wanted her. He wanted her so much that he became aware of a completely different kind of pain.
“I surrender,” she gasped breathlessly.
“Excellent,” he whispered against her lips. Even with all the willpower in the world, he could not have held back any longer.
C
HAPTER
16
He had kissed her.
He had touched her.
He had loved her.
Like a starving man.
Julie’s skin tingled all over. She’d just had the best sex of her life. And what happens when a woman realizes that?
She wants more.
Her eyes closed, she felt for Bastian but instead found an empty space. Dumbfounded, she sat up abruptly and flinched. Good God. Her muscles ached in places she didn’t even know she had muscles. Which clearly meant she needed more practice.
She looked around. Spot was curled up asleep by her feet while Bastian sat, fully clothed, on the edge of the bed, looking at her with watchful eyes. He must have been watching her sleep. She hoped she hadn’t drooled on her pillow.
“Good morning,” she said, pulling the blankets up under her chin. She was embarrassed to be fully naked beside him, though she realized that was a bit ridiculous after the night they’d just spent together.
“Good morning.”
“What time is it?” she asked, staring skeptically at the pale light penetrating the drawn curtains.
“A little before eight.”
She let out a pained sigh.
The corners of his mouth twitched into a crooked smile. He leaned forward to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her gently. “I don’t really go for clichés,” he murmured against her lips, “but right now, I can’t think of anything more appropriate than to tell you that you look beautiful when you’re asleep.”
“I’d like to say the same about you, but I’d have to see you sleeping first,” she teased, with a lightheartedly disappointed glance at his clothes. “And much to my regret, you have other ideas.”
Bastian’s expression darkened, and he drew back tensely. “I’ve got to go,” he said flatly. “I’ve got an appointment at the gallery in a little while.”
“Oh.” Julie pulled her blankets tighter. She couldn’t help but feel he was running away from her. She avoided his eyes uneasily. A tense silence spread between them, until Bastian finally cleared his throat.
“How long are you working today?”
“My shift ends at eight.”
“I could come to pick you up,” he offered.
Relief flooded through her. “That’d be lovely.”
“Great.” He leaned forward again to give her a farewell kiss.
She threw her arms around him hopefully, pulled him down onto the bed, and lost herself in the heat he radiated. The pressure of his weight on her reawakened her desire. As her kiss became more urgent, his hands began moving slowly through her hair, digging gently into her scalp. The overnight stubble of his beard rasped gently over her sensitive skin. The taste of him was so intoxicating that she could no longer hold back. She slid her hands boldly beneath his sweater, but Bastian flinched suddenly at her touch.
Breathing heavily he laid his forehead against hers. “I really do have to go.” Something indefinable flickered briefly in his green eyes, but before Julie could figure out what it meant, he got it back under control. He pushed himself up off the bed.
“See you tonight,” he said roughly and turned to leave.
“See you later.” She tried to regain her composure as she watched him leave. Bastian had almost left the room when she called out louder than necessary, “I’m looking forward to it.”
The longing that reverberated through her words scared her with its intensity. She pressed her lips together, embarrassed. They still tasted of his kiss.
Apparently surprised by her words, Bastian turned in the doorway. “Me too,” he replied, grinning, and left.
Julie listened to the front door close and let herself sink back into the pillows. Spot crept up onto her stomach, purring loudly. As she ruffled the cat’s fur, she closed her eyes and lost herself in memories of the night before.
In hindsight, the only thing she regretted was that they had been enveloped in complete darkness, which meant that she could feel him, but not see him. After their roughhousing on the sofa, he had lifted her up as if she weighed no more than a child and carried her into the bedroom where he removed her clothing one article at a time. He covered each place he conquered with kisses until she had eventually pulled his sweater over his head. She recalled that his forearm was still bandaged. Although she had initially been tentative, as she feared hurting him, he had quickly dispelled her worries. He was evidently a lover of the giving kind, and she had enjoyed every second.
Julie opened her eyes and stared at the blankets. He had felt simply wonderful. But had she touched him at all? His movements had substantially limited her reach, and Julie wondered whether there hadn’t been an element of calculation behind his actions. There was no doubt he was insatiable, but had he lost control at any point? She wasn’t sure. She would definitely pay more attention next time.
She stretched and got up to shower. Feeling like a new person, she then slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans and a plain shirt before settling down on the sofa with a cup of milky coffee. She sent a message to Jo to see about meeting up. After all, she owed her sister a few answers.
Just as she was gathering the strength to give her apartment a little spring cleaning, her doorbell rang. She hurried to the intercom.
“Aren’t you impressed I didn’t just let myself in?” Isabelle chirped into the speaker.
Julie had to smile as she buzzed down to open the door. A minute later, Isabelle stood before her, out of breath, examining her critically.
“You’ve had sex!” she observed. As she had so many times in her life, Julie cursed her friend for her perceptiveness. “Here I am, calling around to make sure that you’re still
alive
after three days’ silence, and what do I find but a satisfied smile on your lips.” She shook her head disapprovingly and peered over Julie’s shoulder into the apartment. “Are you going to let me in, or do you have a naked man waiting between your sheets?”
“Of course,” replied Julie, stepping aside. “I’m alone.”
Isabelle planted a kiss on her cheek and swept past her into the kitchen. She dropped a bag of croissants on the table and draped her coat over the back of a chair, then turned expectantly to Julie.
“Nice outfit,” said Julie. Isabelle’s fiery-red hair was held uncharacteristically neatly in place by a purple hairband, and she wore a vivid purple dress with a garish lime-green scarf coiled around her neck; a pair of violet ankle boots rounded out the look. “Daphne?” guessed Julie with a smile.
Isabelle nodded wistfully. “I fancied a bit of nostalgia today,” she explained.
“And that means dressing up as your favorite
Scooby-Doo
character?”
“Sadly, Kermit was in the wash.”
Julie giggled. Isabelle’s grass-green jumpsuit was one of her favorite garments. No one but Isabelle could wear something so hideous and look so good in it.
“But looking at you now, I realize I should have conjured up something red from my wardrobe,” Isabelle continued with a grin.
The color of love.
Of course.
“Would you like some coffee first, or do you want to start in on the interrogation right away?” asked Julie.
“Coffee first!” decided Isabelle. While Isabelle poured herself a fresh mug of coffee and topped off Julie’s half-finished one, Julie pulled out cutlery, sugar, and a jar of Nutella.
“When does your shift start?” asked Isabelle.
“I’ve got to leave at ten thirty.”
“Then we’ve got plenty of time,” she announced, satisfied. Clutching a carton of milk under her arm, Isabelle took the mugs over to the dining table, sank down wordlessly on a chair, stirred three spoons of sugar into her mug, and took a big gulp. “I’m ready,” she said, grinning expectantly.
Julie took a croissant slowly out of the bag, spread a generous layer of Nutella over it, and then filled Isabelle in on the developments of the past few days. She said nothing about his skin disorder. That was his business, and besides, it was of secondary importance to her. Of course she felt sorry for him—cursed as he was with that fate—not only because of the pain he had to endure, but also because of the cruelty he’d experienced that had shaped his character.
“It just happened,” said Julie, bringing her account to a close with a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks.
“Did you at least take precautions?” asked Isabelle with uncharacteristic seriousness.
“I’m on the pill,” she said, ignoring Isabelle’s incredulous gasp. For all her joie de vivre, Isabelle had learned the hard way that her carefree nonchalance could not be extended to all aspects of life. Julie had stood by her during the agonizing weeks that followed a certain fateful night and understood her concerns. But Bastian had to undergo thorough health checks far more frequently than she did, so she needn’t fear infectious diseases. “But we used condoms anyway.”
That seemed to pacify Isabelle and won Bastian a few more points.
“So how come you’re not all tangled up with each other in your bed right now?” asked Isabelle. “Ready and waiting for round two?”
“Four.”
Isabelle licked her Nutella-smeared knife luxuriously. “Congratulations.”
Julie smiled as she finished off her croissant.
“He’s got an appointment at the gallery this morning,” she replied.
Her friend rubbed her hands eagerly. “Excellent. I can lie in wait for him and threaten him with all kinds of hell if he dares to break your heart.”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh, come on. It’d be fun!”
“For you, perhaps,” said Julie indignantly. “But we’ve only just begun our . . . relationship. I want to take things slowly.”
“Slowly?” asked Isabelle scornfully. “So, to recap, you’ve known him for five days, and that’s being generous. On the first day, he gave you the cold shoulder, you spent the next two days in silence in a warehouse—”
“One and a half,” interrupted Julie quietly.
Isabelle raised her eyebrows and continued, “Then you spend a day at the zoo with Luke, and he”—she raised her hands and made air quotes—“
stayed the night
. The next day, you invited him to your father’s birthday party and then went to bed with him. Have I got it right?”
Julie bit her lip and nodded, a bit taken aback. Described like that, it hardly sounded like she was taking things slowly. If you were thinking about someone nonstop, time took on a whole new dimension.
Isabelle broke out in peals of laughter. “So what’s it like when you’re rushing into things?” she cackled.
“You’re a crazy nutcase.” Julie crumpled the empty croissant bag into a ball and threw it at her friend, who was now almost in tears from laughter.
“No, no, you’re quite right. Anything else would be a mere waste of time. You know what I always say,” she wagged her index finger in warning, “live every day as though it were your last.”
Julie folded her arms sulkily.
“Aw, come on, honey,” said Isabelle. “If it’s true what Elena says—and you in your oh-so-subtle way—I wish you all the best.” She brushed a few crumbs from her sleeve. “Even though he came across as a real cold fish to me,” she added.
“You’re wrong,” said Julie. “He’s not really like that.”
Isabelle shook her head in sympathy. “You’re head over heels, aren’t you?”
“Looks like it,” replied Julie with a smile.
“As long as he makes you happy, he’ll have nothing to fear from me.” Isabelle finished her coffee. “Now, I hate to rain on your parade, but we ought to get going soon.”
She didn’t feel like going to work, but she gathered up the dishes, took everything to the kitchen, and hurried into her bedroom to get ready.
Isabelle accompanied her to the café.
“What are your plans this week?” asked Isabelle on the way, giving her a cheeky grin. “Apart from the time spent in the bedroom.”
Julie giggled. “I hope that’s going to play a major part in my leisure activities.”
“Lucky you.”
“But otherwise, I’ve been invited to a party on Friday.”
Isabelle stopped abruptly. “A party? Without me?”
“You can come if you like,” offered Julie. “It’s Gabriel’s birthday.”
“The sexy Spaniard?” she asked hopefully. Isabelle knew him from various student parties they’d been to together.
“The very same,” confirmed Julie with a smile.
“I’m so there.” She suddenly stopped in alarm. “Or is Bastian going with you? I certainly don’t want to hang around with a besotted pair of lovers.”
Julie shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He didn’t seem too taken with Gabriel.”
“Getting his claws out already?” cooed Isabelle.
“Let’s just say I got the impression that he might send out the wrong signals if he came.”
“What kind of signals?”
“The keep-away-from-this-woman-or-there’ll-be-trouble kind of signals.”
“Has he got a violent streak?”
“Of course not.” Julie grinned. “That’s why I said the wrong signals.”
“Possessiveness is so sexy,” said Isabelle.
“As long as it doesn’t go too far.”
They turned the corner to the Siesmayer and stopped by the entrance.
“So, see you on Friday. My place at half past eight?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great. Looking forward to it.”
“Me too.”
After giving her friend a quick hug, Isabelle set off for the gallery to discuss her latest publicity campaign with Elena.
Julie hurried through the entrance of the café and past a group of leather easy chairs arranged in pairs around small round tables. In the corners were a number of well-worn sofas that were popular with groups. At the back of the small room was a rustic timber bar, which was always polished to a shine. Despite the slightly outdated floral wallpaper, the café was a popular meeting spot. Julie was sure this was due largely to the scent of the room, a blend of freshly roasted coffee and chocolate cake.
She looked inquisitively around at the customers. An elderly lady sat by the window looking out as she stroked her shaggy lapdog; three young men were laughing, deep in conversation; and a middle-aged couple was sharing a slice of chocolate cake in companionable silence. Everyone appeared to be happy.
Upon reaching the bar, she tossed her bag into the corner and tied on her apron. Her coworker, John, was already waiting for her. John was an aspiring actor, but as was so often the case with creative professions, success was a long time coming, so he took side jobs to make ends meet and support his family. Julie enjoyed working with him, at least in part because of his mellow approach to life.