Page 19 of Candy Cane Chains

His thumb traces circles on my hip bone while his other hand continues its maddening path up and down my body. Every sweep of his fingers makes my breath catch. I've never felt anything like this before - this constant awareness, this building need.

"Your skin is so soft." He presses a kiss to my neck, right over my crescent moon birthmark.

Travis barely touched me unless he wanted sex. But Julian can't seem to stop touching me - holding my hand during dinner, brushing my hair back from my face, pulling me close just because. He's present in a way I never knew I was missing.

The movie plays on but I'm lost in the sensation of Julian's hands mapping my body like he has all the time in the world. Like I'm precious. Worth savoring.

"Thank you," I whisper as we watch. I can't even explain how happy I am.

"Do you know what I'm giving you, sweet girl?" Julian's fingers trace up my spine, making me arch against him.

"The movie?" I whisper, though I sense there's more to his question.

His low chuckle vibrates through my back. "No. Something far more valuable." His hand slides up to cup my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. "Freedom."

I turn my head slightly, confused. "Freedom?"

"From choices that weigh you down. From responsibilities that drain you." His thumb strokes my pulse point. "From having to be anything but mine."

The truth of his words sinks into my bones. These past week with Julian, I haven't had to organize everything, plan every detail, manage everyone's expectations. He takes care of everything - dinner, outfits, all our plans, even having my favorite desserts delivered to his penthouse.

"You don't have to be anything but you here." His lips brush my ear. "You don't have to be the responsible one, the organized one, the one who holds everything together."

My eyes flutter closed as tension I didn't know I was carrying melts away. "Travis always needed me to-"

"Travis is irrelevant." Julian's voice hardens for a moment before softening again. We've barely talked about Travis, exceptfor when I told him what happened the night we met. "Here, you just need to be mine. Let me take care of everything else."

I sink deeper into his embrace, realizing how right he is. The constant pressure of being everyone's rock, of never dropping the ball - it's gone when I'm with Julian. He doesn't need me to be anything but present in this moment.

"The way you surrender to me..." His hand slides down to splay across my stomach. "It drives me crazy, Ivy. Makes me want to give you the world just to see you let go like this."

The raw desire in his voice makes me shiver. This powerful man, who commands respect with a single look, is completely undone by my trust in him. By my willingness to let him take control.

"Only for you," I breathe, and feel his grip tighten in response.

The movie continues playing, but neither of us is watching anymore. We're lost in this moment of perfect understanding - me finding freedom in his control, him finding peace in my surrender.

I know I should pull away. I should put up a protest against letting him treat me like this. My phone probably has dozens of missed calls by now - family and friends… and Travis's endless voicemails.

A whole life waits for me beyond these penthouse walls. After the new year, I have events to handle, and even though I was planning to take this month off, I don't like being fully unplugged.

But Julian's touch anchors me to this moment, his strength wrapping around me like a cocoon.

"You're thinking too hard." His fingers trace along my collarbone. "I can feel the tension creeping back in."

He's right. Even now, my mind races with all the responsibilities I'm neglecting. But… Julian's words echo in myhead - freedom from choices, from responsibilities. From having to be anything but his. It sounds so simple when he says it. So tempting.

"The world won't fall apart without you holding it together," he murmurs against my neck. "Let someone else handle the details for once."

My body melts further into his embrace even as my mind screams that this is dangerous thinking. I'm the responsible one. The organized one. The one everyone counts on. Aren't I?

"What about-"

His finger presses against my lips, silencing me. "No. Whatever it is, it can wait."

The scariest part isn't how easily he quiets my protests. It's how right he feels. How logical his words seem when wrapped in that deep, commanding voice. Every argument I had prepared - about work, about obligations, about normal life - feels hollow against the solid reality of his arms around me.

"Just be here," he says. "With me. Nothing else matters."