Alive At Night (Wildflower Series Book 1)

THERE WAS ONLY ONE bed in our hotel room.

It had been enough of a disaster when I thought I would have to share a room with Julian. Now I had to share a bed with Julian? After that car ride, when we’d skated around the topic of the last time we’d shared a bed? When Julian said that thing about proving he could leave me more than satisfied?

Oh, hell no.

Julian pushed past me, dropping one of our bags—because he’d insisted on carrying both—onto the armchair in the corner. He set the other on the ground.

“I’m sorry that you’re not going to be able to sleep with my friend like you’d clearly been planning on.”

His words were sharp, and his features pulled taut as he unzipped his jacket and wrestled out of it in an overly aggressive manner.

I barely managed to find my voice. “It wasn’t like that. I made these reservations before asking Noah to go with me. I don’t remember booking one bed, but then again, I didn’t expect to need two.”

Julian exhaled heavily. Dramatically. He was always so dramatic.

“At least the bed is big,” I added.

Julian’s gaze met mine, and I immediately knew that it didn’t matter how big the bed was. A forbidden heat lingered between us, and it would only fester beneath the sheets.

When Julian finally looked away, it was to search the room. His eyes landed on the nightstand, and he strode toward it to pick up a leather-bound booklet.

“I’m ordering room service because you need to eat something.” His movements were brisk as he began flipping through the pages. “So either tell me what you want, or I’ll pick for you.”

“You can pick.”

I hadn’t been hungry when Julian pulled into a rest area with a few different food options earlier. It was hard to focus on food when I was too busy reliving The Car Incident™. God, I was so tempted to delete all my audiobooks off my phone to make sure there was no way that could ever happen again. But I was too afraid to even open the app.

Meanwhile, Julian had glared at me when I told him I still wasn’t hungry. But eventually, he let it go.

He wouldn’t let it go this time; I knew that. He got overly stubborn with things like this, and I didn’t have any more fight left in me tonight.

Julian nodded absentmindedly while he perused the menu and then, before I knew it, had ordered more food than his entire eight-person family could eat.

I stared at him as he hung up the phone.

“Who’s going to eat all that?”

“You,” he replied flatly. “And me.”

“Jul—”

“If anything, I came this weekend to make sure you eat and sleep. So pick which side of the bed you want, and relax until the food comes.”

So that was that, huh? We were actually going to do this. This being sleeping in the same bed. Although, there weren’t very many other options unless the velvet armchair in the corner counted. Or the floor.

I dropped onto the side of the bed closest to me. “You’re bossy when you’re hungry.”

“Sure am.” Julian crossed his arms over his chest as he looked me over, seeming satisfied now that I’d designated which side of the bed was mine. “You should remember that for the future, Daisy.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring how my stomach flipped when he kept staring at me with such a ridiculous amount of intensity.

“I think I’m going to take a shower,” I muttered before diving into the bathroom.

An intermission was a necessity at this point. I needed a break from Julian and how he made my blood pressure rise, my hands ball into fists, and my skin tingle. It was confusing and infuriating.

But even more infuriating was the realization halfway through my shower that I’d forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom.

Goddamnit.

Although maybe this was presenting an opportune solution: I’d just sleep in the bathroom. That way, I wouldn’t have to walk into the room in just my towel, I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same bed as Julian, and I could prolong my intermission. It was—

“Juni?” A single knock on the bathroom door. “You good in there?”

Hurrying from the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel. Judging by the amount of moisture on the mirror and steam in the air, I’d extended my intermission longer than I realized.

“I’m good,” I called. “Can you like…close your eyes, though? I’m coming out.”

There was a slight pause followed by a choked voice.

“Are you naked?”

“No!” Great, now the thought of accidentally dropping my towel in front of Julian Briggs was firmly in my brain, and it was even more mortifying than The Car Incident™. “I’m wearing a towel. Just—just close your eyes, Julian!”

“Fine.” Was that a sigh I heard through the door? It was hard to tell, but I definitely made out footsteps leading away from the bathroom and dared to open the door.

Julian was on the bed, propped against the pillows, with a hand covering his eyes when I came out. “You do know I’ve seen you in a towel before, right?” he muttered as I made a beeline for my suitcase.

“What? No, you haven’t.”

Pretty sure I would remember something like that happening.

“Yes, I have.” Julian cleared his throat. “When you and Gemma got stranded on Lock Island.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I dug through my luggage, searching for clothes. “Which time?”

Even though I couldn’t see Julian’s eyes, I could feel him rolling them. “The skinny-dipping time,” he said tersely.

Oh, that. Yep, I was definitely naked except for a towel that time.

“This towel barely covers my ass, though.”

Julian remained quiet for a moment, and I hurried back toward the bathroom with my clothes, standing around the corner from the bed so he wouldn’t be able to catch glimpses of me while I dressed. Although, I doubted he’d try to look.

“Your skirt barely covered your ass on Halloween,” Julian grunted after a pause, sounding…irritated by that memory.

I peeked around the corner, clutching my towel tighter. “I thought we were trying not to recreate Halloween.”

Julian didn’t respond. He made a slight humming noise in the back of his throat like he had something to say but knew he shouldn’t say it.

When I finished changing, I hung my towel on the shower door before reemerging into the bedroom.

“You can look now.”

Julian lowered his hand, and with my attention entirely on him for the first time since leaving the bathroom, I suddenly realized that all his muscles were on display, along with his golden, slightly freckled skin.

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Julian had been in the middle of appraising my pajamas—a cute, striped set of pants and a short-sleeved top—when his gaze flicked up to mine. “I never wear a shirt to bed.”

“But we’re…eating.” I gestured to the pile of trays on the bed that must have arrived while I was in the shower. And now that I could smell it, fuck, I was hungry.

“And then going to bed.” He raised a brow. “Didn’t realize you were afraid of a little bare skin, Rosie.”

Damn him for using words from that night in the garage. Bristling, I walked around to my side of the bed and sat on the edge of it. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you perched on the bed like you were the other day on your desk?” I could hear the slight humor in his voice. “I don’t bite, remember?”

Wordlessly, I scooted closer to Julian so my whole body was on the bed. But there was still a good distance between us as I crossed my legs and tucked my feet under my body.

“Feeling better after your shower?” Julian asked as though he wasn’t the exact reason why I’d disappeared into the bathroom, why I’d stayed there so long, and why I already wanted to go back. He busied himself with uncovering each plate of food while he waited for my response.

“Yeah, I am.”

Or at least I had felt better until I realized Julian was half-naked.

He put my dinner in front of me—a pasta dish with grilled chicken that made my mouth water. “You sure were in there a long time,” he said.

I shrugged. “Well, I had to ensure I washed all my perfume off so it doesn’t suffocate you tonight.”

He laughed, but it was humorless. “Your perfume is the least of my worries at the moment.”

“What are you worried about?”

“That you eat.” He shoved a fork into my hand. “Eat, Daisy.”

I ate.

But only because my hunger was finally showing.

Not because of Bossy Julian.

He turned on the TV while we ate, but we weren’t really paying attention to the sitcom reruns that cycled through. It was just background noise filling the silence that hung between us. Julian must have been trying his best to ignore me because when he finally glanced my way and said something, he sounded surprised. “You ate your whole plate.”

I nodded, suddenly a little embarrassed that I’d wolfed my food down.

Julian’s lips pressed into a small smile as he reached to clear my empty plate for me. “Good girl.”

Something warm unfurled inside me as I slipped under the covers. This was ridiculous. I shouldn’t need encouragement and praise just to eat a goddamn meal. I shouldn’t have needed anyone to come with me this weekend at all.

But I was relieved not to be alone. And as bummed as I was when Noah had texted me that he couldn’t make it, I was shockingly glad Julian was here with me instead. Even though he did it in a bossy and overbearing way, he was good at ensuring people were taken care of. He’d been doing it his whole life—as a brother, son, captain.

Julian cleared the rest of the plates before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returned, he got beneath the covers—the same covers I was beneath—and turned off the lights.

My heartbeat immediately tripled. The darkness of the room closed in around me, pulsing. I could feel Julian’s heat radiating toward me beneath the sheets and comforter.

The likelihood that I’d sleep tonight was slim to none. The memories of waking up in Julian’s arms a few weeks ago, combined with our current scenario, paralyzed me with emotions I didn’t dare unpack.

I didn’t know how many minutes—or even hours—had gone by while I lay awake before Julian exhaled loudly. The covers rustled as he readjusted himself.

“Come here, Juniper.”

I winced, wondering if my tossing and turning had been louder than I realized. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you up, but—”

“Come here,” he repeated. “Put your head on my chest.”

“On your chest?”

Did he think that would help me sleep? I had very little confidence that would be the case.

“Yes.” Exasperation touched his voice. “Like you did when we were in the office and you practically fell asleep standing up.”

“You had a shirt on then.”

That felt very necessary to point out.

Julian chuckled. It was hard to see his face in the cloaked, dark room, but I could just make out the trace of a smile on his lips.

“You’re very stuck on this no-shirt thing,” he said, his voice low. “I can put one back on if you need me to.”

Need, not want.

It was like he knew that I very much wanted to see him without a shirt, but I very much needed him to be wearing clothes so I could function normally.

But I didn’t need to confirm that thinking for him. So I shook my head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

I paused, holding my breath because I refused to let him hear it. I knew that sounded ridiculous, but if he heard my breath and how it kept coming quicker, he’d hear other parts of me, too. Parts I didn’t want him to know about.

I had to remind myself that this was the caretaking version of Julian. This was Julian being nice, playing his part. This was Julian doing what I’d asked him to do and nothing more.

As soon as I started to scoot closer to him, Julian lifted his arm, beckoning me to curl up beneath it. Cuddling. We were cuddling. His skin was warm to the touch as I rested my head on his chest and placed my hand awkwardly beside it, trying not to consciously notice how hard of a pillow he was.

Like so many of our other ideas in the past weeks, this was a bad one. I doubted I’d ever be able to fall asleep in this position, not while I couldn’t help but count every single one of Julian’s breaths as his chest rose and fell beneath me. As I settled into him, wiggling until I found a comfortable spot on my side, they seemed quick, shallow. Then they slowed.

My breathing did the opposite. Because the arm I’d snuck beneath curled around me, caging me in before Julian’s fingers started stroking my hair. First lightly. Then more confidently, threading through my damp strands like a massage. It was more soothing than I wanted to admit, and my heavy eyelids drifted shut.

“You smell different,” he muttered. “Like mint.”

It took me a moment to find my voice. “I used the hotel’s shampoo and conditioner and didn’t reapply my perfume. You’re welcome.”

Julian didn’t say anything, continuing to play with my hair. I felt myself melting into him, that slow awareness that sleep had a partial grip on you. Reality and dreams mixed. I couldn’t be sure if it was real or in my head, but I thought I felt something press against the top of my head.

And I thought I heard words that didn’t make sense.

“You know, I think I like the flowers better.”