My throat felt like sandpaper. I swallowed hard and reached for my water again.
The cool liquid did little to quench the fire inside me, but it brought back a sliver of my composure.
Julian didn’t move his leg. He let me lean into him.
For one breathless second, my heart stopped. Then it began to hammer against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm.
The car suddenly swerved.
From the front seat, Sloane shrieked.
"You scared me to death, Caleb!"
She pressed a hand to her chest, her fear melting into flirtatious praise. "Wow, your reflexes are incredible, Caleb. If you hadn't jerked the wheel in time, that rock would have hit us."
Caleb chuckled, preening. "Impressed? My driving skills are top-notch."
Sloane leaned across the console and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're amazing, Caleb! A kiss as a reward!"
"Don't mess around," Caleb chided, though his tone was anything but serious. He finally remembered I was in the backseat.
He shot her a mock-glare. "Sloane, you're a grown woman. Behave yourself. Karina is right here."
Sloane’s eyes went wide with practiced innocence.
"Karina, Caleb and I grew up together. I see him as my own brother—you don't mind, do you?"
I pulled a cashmere blanket over my lap, my smile as cold as ice. "Oh? Do you kiss your brother like that at home?"
Her face immediately crumpled into a mask of hurt. "Caleb, see? I told you Karina doesn't like me. Maybe I shouldn't go... I don't want to make her unhappy."
Caleb’s brow instantly creased with frustration.
"That's enough, Karina. Can't you be more mature? Sloane is just like this; she's spoiled and playful. Why do you have to take everything so seriously?"
I had no fight left in me.
Be the bigger person. Fine. I could do that.
But we'll see how generous you are when the tables are turned, Caleb.
Under the blanket, hidden from view, I pressed my leg harder against Julian’s.
The car swayed again, and the friction of my knee and calf against his sent another jolt through me.
Suddenly, his hand was on me. Warm and firm, his long fingers wrapped around my thigh.
His palm was a shock of heat on my cool skin. The warmth pulsed from his hand, wave after wave.
In that moment, my senses were on fire. I could feel the faint, textured trace of calluses on his fingertips—the mark of a surgeon’s steady hand.
The subtle rasp of them against my skin was almost too much. I risked a glance at him, just a quick one.
It was enough. He sat ramrod straight, his shirt buttoned to the collar, every inch the picture of control. But his Adam’s apple gave him away, bobbing sharply as he swallowed.
His profile was devastating. Sharp, chiseled, a face that could stop your heart cold.
Julian was nothing like Caleb and his friends.
If not for a distant connection between the Croft and Thorne families, a man like him—reserved, aloof, obsessed with cleanliness—would never be in their orbit.
I'd met him, of course, after I started dating Caleb. But we were just nodding acquaintances.
He was a man of few words who preferred solitude. His private life was a mystery.
He was always the first to leave a party. If he stayed, he’d find a quiet corner, close his eyes, and shut out the noise.
I remembered Caleb joking about him. "My cousin's practically a monk," he’d said. "An ascetic who shuns women. He’s 27, probably never even touched a woman's hand."
"He's been coming around more this year, though. Maybe to three or four out of every ten things we do."
"A few years ago? Forget it. You'd never even see him."
The truth was, I knew of Julian back at Columbia. I'd seen him on campus.
He was the type of guy every girl dreamed of as her first love.
Remote. Untouchable. The moon in the night sky.
We’d never interacted, except for twice. I’d been getting crippling migraines from stress and went to the hospital for a check-up.
By pure chance, I was assigned to him both times.
It was awkward at first, but his professionalism quickly put me at ease.
I’d chided myself later.
He was a neurosurgeon. What hadn't he seen?
