Sydney stayed in the bathroom far longer than necessary, splashing cool water on her face and willing her heartbeat to steady. Even behind the closed door, she could hear the muffled voices outside—Julian speaking calmly to his friends, Bruce’s loud laugh, Raymond’s quieter remarks, and Caleb’s familiar baritone that sent her nerves into a tailspin.
She pressed her palms to her heated cheeks.
What had she done?
What had he done?
Julian had kissed her like a man deprived of air—again and again—utterly unconcerned that his friends were standing right outside his door. Worse, he had mocked her panic as if it amused him.
She closed her eyes, breath trembling.
She had to get herself under control before facing them.
When the voices briefly drifted farther away—likely the men moving into the living room—Sydney finally cracked open the bathroom door and peered out. The hallway was empty. She slipped out silently, intending to leave, but the moment she turned toward the entrance, she froze.
Julian was leaning against the wall.
One ankle crossed over the other, arms folded loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. The faint smear of her lipstick still clung to the corner of his mouth.
He had been waiting for her.
Her stomach tightened. “Move,” she whispered.
His gaze dropped languidly to her lips, then back to her eyes. “You plan to walk out there looking like that?”
Her breath hitched. “Like what?”
He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her. She instinctively backed up until her shoulder brushed the frame of the bathroom door.
Julian’s hand lifted—slow, deliberate. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth, wiping a tiny streak of his own lipstick from her skin. His touch was deceptively gentle, at odds with the fierce, possessive kiss from minutes earlier.
Her pulse stuttered.
She snatched his wrist and pushed his hand away. “Don’t.”
The corner of his mouth curved—not quite a smile, more like a challenge. “You didn’t seem to mind just now.”
“That—” Her throat tightened. “That was a mistake.”
He lowered his voice. “Was it?”
Her breath trembled. “Julian—stop.”
But he didn’t step back. Instead, he dipped his head closer until his breath grazed her ear. “You can tell me it meant nothing. You can even convince yourself you don’t want me. But the moment I touch you…” His fingers grazed her waist, feather-light. “…your body tells the truth.”
She jerked away as if burned. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re trembling,” he murmured.
Before she could respond, a knock echoed from the living room.
“Jules! Where’s the beer?” Bruce called.
Julian straightened, finally giving her space. “Stay here,” he said.
“I’m not—”
He gave her a warning look. “Sydney.”
Something in his voice—low, commanding, unyielding—pinned her to the spot. He walked away, shoulders relaxed, expression perfectly composed, as though he hadn’t just kissed her senseless and cornered her against a wall.
Sydney exhaled shakily. She wiped the last trace of lipstick from her mouth, grabbed one of Julian’s discarded jackets from a nearby hook, and pulled it on. The oversized fabric swallowed her, but at least it hid the faint marks he’d left on her skin.
When she emerged a minute later, the men looked up from the kitchen island. Bruce grinned wide, Raymond offered a nod, and Caleb’s steady gaze lingered on her a moment too long.
Julian, leaning casually beside them, lifted a beer can toward her.
“You’re staying,” he said softly, almost like a statement of fact.
Sydney forced a neutral smile. “Only for a little while.”
Julian’s eyes flickered—dark, unreadable—but he didn’t argue.