Less than Perfect, S. J. Evans [classic literature books txt] 📗

“Ugh, I’m a mess. You’ve got to stop making me so soft, Skye.”
Skye giggled, struggling into a sitting position as well. “At least you’re a hot mess,” she murmured teasingly. “I’m just a wreck.”
Rachel scoffed, and this time it was her

turn to slap her friend on the shoulder. “Skye! You are a very hot mess,” she played back. “And speaking of hot messes . . . I want to know everything about you and Jules—even all those juicy little details.”
Skye’s mouth gaped open. “What details?” She couldn’t help but blush at the odd turn their conversation had taken, and even as crazy as it was, she felt good about it. It gave her hope that there would no longer be any tension between her and Rachel—at least for a little while.
“Don’t play dumb,” Rachel scolded, wagging her finger at Skye. “Just spill! I’ve got to know all your dirty little secrets.”
Ignoring Rachel’s last comment, she plunged into the details of her rather uneventful love life (apart from the few make out sessions she and Jules had managed to fit in), and soon both of the girls busied themselves with conversations that entwined the heart and soul of a beautiful friendship worth caring for.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Skye asked Jules, pressing the subject. With her own hands covering her eyes (following the instructions he’d given her before they’d left his car two minutes earlier), she couldn’t make out anything but the quiet sounds of their shuffling footsteps and the thunder in the distance. She could feel his supportive body pressed up against hers, his breath fanning the back of her head as he practically carried her over the damp, earthy soil beneath them. Her head was spinning with the possibilities of where he could be taking her. “Julian Rane, the suspense is killing me! For goodness sakes, just tell me already!”
He turned his head so that his lips hovered above her ear, the warmth of his breath causing her cheeks to flush and her heart to flutter. She giggled at the tender sensations, despite her anxious spirit. “You’ll see. Just hang in there a minute. We’re almost there.”
To say her interest was piqued was an understatement. Her breath hitched in her throat when one of his hands traveled over an exposed expanse of skin below her bellybutton. When she tried to speak again, it came out as a mere whisper. “Where?”
“I’m not telling you, baby,” he explained, chuckling, “it’s a surprise. So don’t even think about peeking, Skye. If you do, I’ll have no choice but to punish you.”
His words provoked erratic chills along her spine, and she gasped. “Punish me? Sounds fantastic.” She grinned wickedly at the thought of one of his tickling attacks—the only form of “punishment” he ever gave her.
And after a minute lost in the thought, she opened her mouth to put his words to the test, but instead she found herself lost in the abruptness of his sudden stop as he set her down on the ground, left to rely on her own two feet again. She chewed on her lip as she waited for him to say something, to explain what they were doing.
He guided her hands away from her closed eyes, whispering in her ear, “Open your eyes.”
Doing as she was told, she slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times to clear the blurriness that stuck to her vision. When she could finally see everything clearly, a gasp escaped her lips, and she felt herself relying on Jules’s support to keep her steady. The beauty that lay before her left her in awe, and all she could do was gawk at the sight.
All around her were tables after tables of boxed gardens filled with vibrant, breathtaking roses, accompanied by the company of small trees that grew fresh fruits and beautiful buds of blossoming flowers. And along with the growing beauty that captured each inch of the stain-glassed greenhouse’s floor, Jules had also carefully placed an assortment of caged, golden candles leading to a small circle in the middle where a blanket and picnic basket lay.
Pulling herself together, Skye righted her jaw and smiled widely. “It’s beautiful, Jules,” she breathed, and pulled his hands in hers. “Did you really do all of this for me?”
He turned her around in his arms so that she was facing him, and cupped her face in his hands. “Of course,” he said around a lazy grin. “I wanted to do something special for you. You’ve been cooped up in that house for too long.”
Her heartbeat soared in an almost pleasurable way, and she curled into him, enjoying the security of being so near to him again. Finally having discovered the “surprise” that had been taunting her all day long, she couldn’t have been happier. The surprise was better than she could have ever imagined.
“Thank you,” she said softly, the sound muffled by his shirt. “Everything’s perfect.”
Jules pulled her up into his arms, careful not to put any strain on her ankle, and carried her through the lit up pathway to the blanket. Setting her down gently on the soft, fleece blanket, he gathered the picnic basket and a bottle of sparkling water before sitting down beside her.
She grinned when she saw the wineglasses he manifested from behind a cooler that sat on the other side of him. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
He chuckled and set them down in between the two of them. “Nope.” He shrugged. “I’m a fan of the classics.”
She giggled, and snatched the picnic basket up from the edge of the blanket. “What have we got here?” she murmured, peering into the folds of fabric that separated the food and the lid. “Pretzel and cheese sandwiches, assorted fruits, and turkey rolls?” She turned to him with her brows raised.
Setting the bottle of sparkling water down for a moment, he held up a finger. “And for desert,” he began, digging into the cooler. “These.”
Skye couldn’t help the laughter that trembled out of her lips when she caught sight of the mini chocolate éclairs in his hands—her favorite. “You’re amazing,” she said, still eyeing the scrumptious desert before her.
“I know.”
“I was talking about the éclairs,” she corrected him, and smiled smugly. “But you’re pretty great, too.”
He laughed, and with his free hand, leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Thanks a lot.”
“Anytime.” Before he could put the éclairs back in the cooler, she grabbed his hand and guided it back towards the side of her face. “How about we skip right to desert?” she suggested, grinning wickedly.
His face lit up in the dim glow of candlelight, and his eyes suggested that he’d been waiting for her to say that. “Sounds good to me.”
With her free hand, she snatched an éclair from his hand and slowly fed it to him. Her stomach did a little flip when his fingers traced her jawline, and his warm breath fanned across her face. Their faces were now mere inches apart, their bodies pressed up against each other’s, and before Skye had time to even realize what he was doing, Jules had already shoved the other éclair into her mouth, rather messily.
As she savored the delicious taste of chocolate on her tongue, she tried to glare at him but couldn’t pull it off and ended up smiling at him instead. “You idiot.” Her voice came out quiet and weak, a side effect of his body so close to hers.
He grinned lazily, and licked the chocolate off of her lips. “I couldn’t help myself,” he growled, his voice husky. “You’re so irresistible.”
Her heart raced. “So are you.” She whimpered when he crushed his lips against hers and began to explore her mouth with his tongue.
It only lasted a moment before he pulled away a little, whispering, “You taste good.”
A giggle escaped her chapped, hungry lips. “You do too,” she murmured, and gasped as she felt one of his hands venturing under the hem of her shirt. “And don’t you dare think we’re done. Desert’s the best part.”
And with those last words drifting in the air around them, Jules grinned wickedly and carefully laid her down against the blanket, following suit. The taste of chocolaty goodness mingled in her mouth when he kissed her again, this time not holding anything back.

“PLEASE, JULES, JUST give them to me,” Skye begged as she leaned against a tree for support, just a few feet away from the greenhouse. “I can’t walk without them, you know.”
“I know,” Jules said around a grin, tossing her crutches back onto the passenger’s seat of his Mustang. “But this way I can be your Prince Charming and sweep you off your feet. Literally.”
“Julian Rane!” she snapped, trying to hold back the smallest of smiles that was beginning to form across her lips. “If you don’t give me those stupid crutches right now, I guarantee you will be sorry.”
Her heart missed a beat when he chuckled, and took a step towards her. “Will I?” he cooed, grinning like an idiot. “What are you going to do?” Another step. “You can’t walk by yourself.” Another. “And you definitely don’t stand a chance against me. So, what then? Come on, baby, don’t be shy; tell me. I’m dying

to know.” He was right in her face now, gazing at her with undeniable desire in his eyes. “Tell me

.”
Her breath caught in her throat when his lips hovered above hers, and she closed her eyes against the warmth that coursed through her body from his almost-touch. But going against her own desires, she pressed her small hands against his chest and pushed him away. “No,” she breathed, still catching her breath from the butterflies in her stomach. “Just—just please get me my crutches, Jules. I’d like to walk on my own if that’s okay with you.”
He frowned, but said nothing more. She watched as he scurried over to the vehicle again, plucked the crutches from where he’d discarded them, and hurried back over to her all in a matter of a minute. “Thank you,” she told him when he handed them to her. “I know it’s killing you right now not being all Prince Charming, but sometimes you’ve just got to put him back into the closet.”
“Are you trying to tell me he finally came out of the closet?” He winked.
“Oh, shut up,” she hissed playfully, stifling laughter. “Stop being such a looser.”
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, and pressed his hand against his heart. “That hurt.”
“Just go,” she urged, sticking out her crutch in the direction of the old farmhouse that was his home. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Don’t sound so excited, now,” he teased her, walking in pace with her slow steps. “You’ll scare my