Page 119 of Revenge Puck
“You’re notscared?” I ask quietly.
“Ofyou?” She laughs. “Should I be?”
Yes.
Yes, you should be.
TWENTY-ONE
JULIETTE
Never have I ever had more orgasms than I have in the past two weeks.
Two weeks.
That’s how long it took Aaron Bishop to completely recalibrate my understanding of my own body.
I float from my bedroom down the short hallway of my apartment, bare feet gliding across hardwood floors still warm from the morning sun. My muscles loose. Satisfied. My lips are still a little swollen from all the kissing last night.
Is this what smug feels like?
But far be it from me to be smug because I’m dating a six-foot-plus professional athlete who knows exactly what to do with his hands. And his mouth. And his tongue.
I am glowing.
I glide into the spare room I’ve labeled my “office” even though it’s mostly a desk, a printer I never use, and a plant I’m trying not to kill.
Sunlight spills across the hardwood floors, and I swear even the air smells better than it did yesterday. I get to work, sliding my laptop into its sleeve, tuck in my planner, charger, lip gloss.
I have a few hours of work I can technically knock out remotely before heading into the office, and camping out at the café down the street—the one with the brick walls and baristas who draw little hearts and stars on the cups in magic marker—is the perfect way to spend the time.
My phone buzzes as I’m sliding my headphones into my bag.
Heart does that embarrassing little hopeful skip because for half a second, I assume it’s Aaron.
Ugh. It’s my annoying brother.
Declan: Hey
I roll my eyes, instantly disappointed—even more so because he started his message with “Hey.”
Juliette: Hey
Declan: You around?
Juliette: Of course I’m around. Where else would I be?
Declan: I think we need to catch up
Juliette: Catch up on what??
I see him around the office plenty, and we had dinner with our parents two weeks ago. That’s more time than most siblings spend together.
Declan: Just stuff.
Just stuff?
Juliette: Should I be nervous?
