When I stepped into Hansen Coffee, my sole intention was to ensure that things with Wells didn't progress beyond what had happened at the rodeo. I stood outside, giving myself a pep talk, telling myself that I could go in and leave without giving in to the urge to kiss Wells. But, here I am again, my self-control evaporated entirely.

Could I, Juniper Jenkins, really break the rules just this once and let something happen between us? Can I do something casual, just this one time? Have a hookup, a rebound, with my nemesis, and then go back to hating and irritating each other in passing?

I can't seem to think clearly enough to figure it out, because there's so much of him so close to me.

"What about this?" he whispers, planting a tender kiss on my temple, causing my eyes to flutter shut. His lips graze over each one, leaving a kiss, before finally reaching the corner of my mouth.

"Hmm." I hum with delight.

He feathers another two kisses, one over the curve of my jaw, the other on my cheekbone. Each kiss propelling me higher and higher until I'm entirely consumed by an overwhelming desire. I want him. I crave him. I'm not sure there's been a single instance where I haven't wanted him since that moment in the bookstore.

I've bottled up so much of it over the past month that now it feels like I'm on the verge of bursting at the seams.

"This?" he murmurs, hovering just above my lips before planting the softest, lightest, sweetest peck on them. Everything inside of me lights up and slowly melts, like warm honey spilling over into every crevasse.

He withdraws, but only slightly, hovering over my lips again. He lingers there without a word, as if silently urging me to confess. Yes, I want you.

He knew it at the rodeo, and he knows it now. There's no need for me to say it out loud.

"Is this okay?" he whispers again.

"I think you already know," I murmur, barely audible.

"I want to make sure?" His voice is low and velvety. "What do you want, Juniper? Tell me."

This would be my moment to say no, to leave, to walk away and forget about all of this. But, my feet refuse to move, my hands remain anchored on his arms, and my body is beginning to melt into his.

I take a deep breath and then whisper, "You."

He bridges the distance between us and I release a sigh of relief as his lips meet mine. I feel the subtle curve of his smile against my mouth. His kiss is tender, his hand gliding to grip the back of my neck, his thumb applying gentle pressure to my throat, coaxing me closer.

His tongue brushes against my lip, and I willingly part for him as his mouth sweeps upward into mine, deepening our kiss.

I've never been kissed like this one before. Kissed like I'm being savored. Like I'm the last blueberry scone on the plate. It's different from our other two —slow, unhurried, and deliciously taunting.

And not enough.

I reach for his chest, fisting a handful of his grey button-down shirt, attempting to pull him as close as possible. Because even with the heat of his skin through the thin material of his shirt, it's not close enough.

His hands glide down from my neck to my waist, then to my hips, causing goosebumps to ripple across every inch of exposed skin.

He firmly grips me there, his fingers digging into me, pulling me flush against him. A soft whine escapes the back of my throat, and that seems to do something to him. There's a noticeable shift in him. The once undemanding, unhurried, deep kisses transform into something hotter, wetter, more urgent.

Our hands move frenetically between us, reaching for as much of each other as possible. Mine wrap around his neck while his glide from my hip to my thigh, pulling it up

And with one swift movement, he hoists me onto the counter behind me, his lips part from mine as he positions my legs in between him. He trails his mouth from my jaw down to my collarbone and down to the hollow between my breasts. He pauses there, hesitating.

There's a thrumming in my ears and an ache low between my thighs. I want him to go further. To slip his hands beneath the neckline of my dress and tease his lips over my nipples, to dip his hands under the hem. Make me arch and cry out.

"Juniper," he breathes, his voice low and husky. I bury my face into his hair. His shampoo smells like citrus and it makes me feel a little dazed.

He pulls away slightly, questioning, "Is this allowed?" His hands cautiously slip beneath the hem of my dress.

My breath hitches, and I nod fervently. "Maybe just this once," I garble out.

"One time," he breathes out, watching his hand slide deeper under my dress. "I can do one time."

His touch glides upward, tracing the lacey border of my underwear, toying with it for a moment before firmly grasping my hip. He drags me to the counter's edge, flush against him.

His lips meet with mine again while his hands wander beneath my dress. It's not fair though; I want to touch him like he's touching me. I start fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, finding the simple task oddly impossible.

I finally navigate through the buttons, and a hum of relief escapes me as my hand touches hot bare skin. I've thought about this— the sensation of running my hands over his abs. My touch roams freely, exploring every contour before gliding up to his back, arms slipping beneath his and finding their place on his shoulders. I grind my hips, eliciting a groan from him.

"How many health code violations are we breaking right now?" I rasp.

"Not nearly enough," he growls back.

He lifts me effortlessly, lips pressed against mine. My legs wrapping his hips, and he begins to guide us to the back of the coffee shop. He bumps us into everything, almost like he's navigating the space for the first time, despite the fact that he works here almost every day.

He leads me to the couch tucked in the back corner, the same one where we had our interviews, secluded and away from everything else. He stumbles us onto it, with me lying on my back and him above me, nestled between my legs, my dress pushed up to my hips.

Wells leans in, his kiss soft and gentle. But, I can't get enough, he's not moving fast enough for everything I want. I'm eager and impatient now, and he seems moving at a pace that's teasingly slow.

Frustrated, I arch and roll my hips into him, seeking friction. It's still not enough.

"Will you hurry up before my nerves talk me into changing my mind?" I urge.

He meets my gaze, hesitation evident. "Do you think you're going to regret this?"

"No," I quickly reply, shaking my head. I look up at the ceiling and then pause. "Well, maybe. Probably. Yes. But not because of you. Definitely not because of you. Mostly because I'm going to get fired if we do this. I can already see it happening—we'll get caught. Someone will somehow find out. Then I'll have to move back in with my parents because I won't be able to afford rent. Ellis will feel sorry for me and offer her place, which I'll accept because the thought of living with my parents again is terrifying. But then I'll be racking my brain every day, trying to figure out a way to repay Ellis that doesn't involve money."

He blinks, whispering, "Holy shit." He runs a hand through his tousled brown hair. "Is that what it's like being inside your head?"

I nod, blushing. "There are about five other scenarios that I didn't tell you. But they all start with you touching me–" he presses his hand between my legs just over the lace of my underwear, moving his palm against me. Black spots appear at the edges of my vision, and I instinctively arch into him in response. "Oh god."

He halts the motion of his hand, and a noise of desperation escapes me, something between a groan and a whimper. I glance at him in frustration, he responds with a smile. "Starts with me what?"

"So, there really is never a moment when you won't tease me," I rasp out, gripping the fabric on his shoulders a little tighter, urging him to continue.

He smirks, "I want to know all the ways you think about me touching you."

My eyes dart to his forest green ones, and I can feel my face heat up. There have been a lot of thoughts about this, ever since that dream a few weeks ago. I find myself thinking about it a little too often.

"Why don't you start and I'll let you know if it matches up with my imagination."

He leans down, kissing his way down my chest, pressing his mouth over the fabric of my dress, nipping at my nipple through it. "I don't think you've thought about half the things that have crossed my mind about doing to you."

He takes hold of one strap of my dress, pulling the string of the bow with deliberate slowness. My gaze is fixed on him as he unravels it slowly, his eyes darkening, and he moves on to undo the other. "You'd be surprised with my imagination."

"We'll have to see about that," he whispers as he draws my dress down from my breasts. He doesn't linger, glancing at me briefly before capturing me in his mouth—sucking, nipping, and kissing.

"Is this allowed—" He pulls his mouth from me and starts to move the hand between us that I've forgotten was there seconds before. I shift my legs, my body shuttering underneath him, as he circles his thumb over the place I need him the most. "Do you think about me doing this?"

Yes," I gasp out.

His hand slips under the fabric of my underwear, his fingers gliding in between me. After all the teasing from him, he already has me halfway. He circles once and I choke out his name. I feel the pull of it everywhere and I'm frantic now.

I reach for the buttons of his pants, my fingers fumbling in haste. "You're impatient, you know that?" He laughs out.

"No, I'm efficient," I assert, finally freeing him. He hisses as I wrap my hand around his length. "There's a difference. Condom?"

He dips his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, still loosely hugging his hips, and retrieves his wallet, rummaging through it as quickly as he can. He finds it and tears the wrapper with his teeth and I watch as he rolls the condom on.

He gazes down at me and then his eyes suddenly scrunching closed. My heart flutters with uncertainty. He's hesitating. "Are—Are you going to regret this?" I utter.

He opens his eyes, locking onto mine. "Nope, just trying not to lose my fucking mind."

"Oh," I say as his hands glide up my thighs, reaching and tugging off my underwear. Slipping them off before settling himself in between my legs.

He lines himself up and pushes into me slowly. I attempt to draw in a deep breath as he does but it feels as if all the air is sucked out of the room. I curl my hands around his biceps and squeeze, trying to anchor myself as his hips shift closer to mine.

"Oh my god," I barely manage to breathe out.

He halts instantly, his eyes filled with concern, searching mine. "Too much?"

Too good. I want to say.

I shake my head. "Just enough," I croak out.

I hold on to him, arching into the couch, as he starts moving with short, careful thrusts. A moan hiccups out of me and a cocky smirk spreads across his face.

"You think this is allowed?" He garbles out.

I huff out a laugh, but it catches in the back of my throat as he thrusts harder, deeper. His forehead drops to my collarbone and rocks against it, his own groan slips from his chest. I drop my head back as he hits the spot that makes black spots appear on the edges of vision.

This feels unbelievable. He feels unbelievable. Even like this, with all of our clothes technically still on.

He braces himself above me, murmuring, "So pretty." I watch his face as his hands trail down from my waist to my hips, one hand firm while the other glides further, tracing down to the spot between my legs. "So fucking pretty."

There's an abrupt shift in pace and pressure. Simultaneously, his thumb rubs hard perfect circles on my clit, and thats it. It rushing through me, stealing my breath away. I arch, desperately gripping onto anything to ground myself.

It's never felt like this before. I've never felt like this. Not ever.

He doesn't stop. He keeps moving through it, pulling every last bit out of me. And if I wasn't looking at him I'd miss it. I'd miss it as he comes undone, as he comes just seconds after mine starts. He's quiet as his thrusts become uncoordinated and messy. His face flushed, brows furrowed. Dropping onto me, he pushes me down in the couch and slows to a stop.

Wells collapses the rest of his body against me, exhaling deeply, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"Did that break your rules?" He mumbles somewhere against my neck. I smile at his question, blinking as I stare up at the ceiling. He braces himself up to meet my gaze.

I've never seen Wells like this before—so disheveled, messy, unruly, so perfectly undone. I love it.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks. I hadn't even realized I was smiling.

"Nothing," I reply, lightly touching my lips with the tips of my fingers.

He reaches to tuck a stray strand of my sweaty hair behind my ear. His eyes linger for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I think this is my favorite outfit on you so far," he whispers leaning down into my ear, his voice all thick and husky.

I laugh into his hair and, brushing a kiss to the shell of his ear. My dress is all cinched up at my hips, my underwear still dangling on one of my legs, and my hair is undoubtedly a tangled mess.

"Thank you," I utter softly as he props himself up on his forearms, meeting my gaze once again.

His smile widens, those little brackets grace the sides of his mouth. I reach up to trace them with my finger. With a gentle grip, he takes hold of my hand, turning it over to plant a tender kiss on my palm.

And my heart twists into something I'm not sure I've ever felt before.

"How am I supposed to pretend I never want to do that with you again?" he murmurs against my hand.

Notes

What did you all think about this chapter? Any thoughts or feelings?

Because I'm melting.

Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and voting. It truly means a lot! ❤️