After a pause, Jules rubbed her forehead and said, “No, it is not. Okay, listen up. I’m going to need you to call Vivian’s event planner…”

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

To Jules’s consternation, Vivian’s house was dark and silent when she entered—no light shining from either the kitchen or the den, no sounds of movement. Had Vivian fallen asleep? Was she pissed off that Jules had sent a text saying she’d be late? It wasn’t that late—only eight thirty—and Jules had promised she’d be bringing a surprise.

The light went on in the stairwell.

Jules froze.

“I’m up here,” Vivian called.

Jules wondered if she was actually about to faint as she headed up the stairs. Her palms were sweaty, and her long coat didn’t help the heat suffusing her whole body.

When she reached the top, she saw that the light was on in the study. She took a deep breath and walked in.

Vivian was sitting on the couch. She looked up at Jules with bright, glittering eyes as she took in the coat. “Is it too cold in here?”

“No,” Jules said softly. The tone of her voice was enough to get Vivian sitting up straight.

Jules began slowly unzipping her coat.

Now Vivian’s eyes widened.

“Told you I was going to be late,” Jules said, “because I was bringing a surprise.”

“Oh God,” Vivian whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” Jules had the zipper down halfway. As the coat opened, Vivian could clearly see what she’d changed into: the red jumpsuit from New Year’s Eve, shoulders repaired and neckline practically slit down to Jules’s navel.

No boob tape tonight. Jules was definitely about to burst out of this thing. And tonight, Vivian didn’t seem to think that was very funny.

She let the coat fall to the floor. It thumped against the Berber rug. “Thanks for letting me keep this.”

Vivian pressed her lips together as she looked at the peaks of Jules’s nipples, hard and clearly visible through the fabric.

“You like it?” Jules asked.

“Come here.”

The note of command in Vivian’s voice was wobblier than usual. She still should have said please.

Jules let the command draw her forward anyway until she was standing over Vivian, looking down at her, drowning in her eyes. Instead of sitting, she touched Vivian’s face with her fingertips.

“Julia.”

Now Vivian’s voice broke, and that was good enough. Jules exhaled and sat next to her, close enough that their thighs were touching from hip to knee. The contact—more than they’d ever had before, not nearly enough—made her ache.

“Come here,” Vivian repeated, but she was the one who reached out, cupped Jules’s face, and pulled her in.

Jules slid her arms around Vivian’s waist and went for it.