Ch63 - Hold back

She turned around, the wind messing up her hair, and brushed it aside before finally getting a good look at Julian. 

She’d been avoiding looking at him too closely on the plane and on the way to the hotel, afraid he might feel awkward—but now that she saw him, he looked a lot better. No redness in his eyes, no coughing.

She smoothed herself down a little. Julian told her to dress warmer and even handed her a pair of gloves. She put them on without asking—she honestly didn’t get why he insisted, since they’d barely be outdoors anyway.

Until they stepped out. Right before getting into the car, Julian waved off Craig and Jay. “We’ll walk. Pick us up tonight.”

Then he took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and led her toward Bahnhofstrasse. The air was cold, though it hadn’t snowed yet, so the streets were easy to walk; winter’s brightest hour wrapped the whole city in a soft glow.

Her cheeks turned pink from the cold, each breath a puff of white. She loved the feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar, everything new—but she couldn’t ignore the warmth of his hand around hers.

The sky was a pale blue. A breeze drifted past, carrying faint church bells from the direction of St. Peter’s. They trembled in the cold air.

Maybe it was the European charm of the city, maybe it was all the Christmas window displays, but something in her chest loosened and warmed at the same time.

She couldn’t help glancing up at him. He looked relaxed on the surface… but something felt off. And honestly, it wasn’t from the allergy on the plane—this shift started days before they even left. Ever since that moment in the kitchen, when things between them got… blurry, intimate.

Today he held her hand, yes, but something was missing.

“What’s wrong? Hungry?” He brushed her cheek and kissed her forehead like it was nothing.

Violet froze for half a second, glanced away, then nodded.

They followed the flow of the street into a classic Swiss restaurant for lunch. Violet pushed her questions aside and acted like she always did around him. 

Later, they crossed the river into the old town’s luxury watch district. She picked up the watch Serena had asked for, inspected the restored piece carefully, then watched the staff seal it up again.

The seal was tight—once broken, it’d show immediately. At least that guaranteed no one could tamper with it before Serena got it.

After making sure everything was in order, Violet slipped it into the paper bag. The winter sky darkened quickly. The giant Swarovski Christmas tree at the market lit up the square. 

The crowds, the lights, the music—she found herself slowing down, taking it all in. She raised her phone and snapped a few photos. Memories of past Christmas markets with her parents surfaced—before she moved to the States with her aunt. 

After that, Christmas stopped being something to look forward to. It became a week of hosting guests, year after year, since she was eleven.

This year, for the first time in a long time, she actually felt the joy again.

Then a small decoration at one of the stalls caught her eye. She lit up instantly and jogged over. When she turned back, Julian was looking at her with a soft smile—but the moment their eyes met, his smile faltered. He covered it by lifting a hand to his mouth and coughing.

Violet turned back to the stall, pretending not to notice, and picked out two little ornaments.

Dinner was at a lakeside restaurant. 

Julian was back to his usual lazy, too-cool attitude. He lifted a brow. “So? Happy today?”

“It was really nice.” Violet smiled. She honestly couldn’t imagine what there was to complain about—he’d been with her the whole day. 

Except for a few odd expressions here and there, they really did look like a normal couple on a honeymoon. He held her hand, kissed her cheek a few times.

At first those little touches made her heart jump, but later… not so much. Not because she didn’t feel anything, but because she could tell he was acting—like all this was for show. 

She didn’t know who the audience was supposed to be, but probably paparazzi hiding somewhere or whoever might be secretly taking photos.

Back at the hotel, the two-hundred-square-meter presidential suite had one giant bed covered in rose petals, champagne on the coffee table—of course. The hotel must’ve decided they were a honeymoon couple.

Julian glanced over, barely reacting, and muttered something about taking a shower before heading into the bathroom. His back was stiff, though he pretended everything was normal.

Violet sat in the rocking chair by the window, opened her book, and tried to read. But every little sound from behind her made her ears twitch; she didn’t even get through two pages.

When it was her turn to wash up, she came out to find the rose petals already cleaned away. She ran her fingers through her still-warm, freshly blown-dry hair and walked toward the living room—Julian was on the couch with his laptop open, typing nonstop, totally absorbed. Busy.

Violet didn’t disturb him. Just slipped back to the bedroom, crawled under the covers, and lay down.

She suddenly remembered that tomorrow they’d be going separate ways—he was leaving early for the airport, and she’d be taking a car into the Jura. A wave of disappointment crept into her chest. But the jet lag hit hard, and all her disorganized thoughts faded out.

Drifting in and out of sleep, she felt a warmth press against her back—an arm pulling her in.

She made a soft sound and turned over, hugging that warm presence without thinking, nuzzling her face lightly against a firm chest. The person beside her stiffened instantly, his body heat spiking, but her hold on him kept him from pulling away.

Then Violet felt something wet fall onto her face. At first it landed on her cheek… then her ear… her neck… her collarbone. Fast, scattered—like drops of rain.

She lifted a hand on instinct.

And her palm brushed against something furry.

At the same time, the front of her shirt was pushed open—cool air first, then a slow, spreading warmth. Even half-asleep, she realized the weight at her chest was Julian. He was… lost in her. When he finally lifted his head, his lips were damp, his eyes already dark with heat.

He paused for barely a heartbeat—then seeing her dazed, half-open eyes, he dipped down again. His hand locked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Violet’s back arched without her meaning to, her body warming everywhere he touched, nowhere for her to hide from it.

Her legs went weak under him. He pulled one hand away from her, and with her eyes closed she heard the faint crinkle of plastic… torn open… then nothing for a long beat.

When Violet blinked up, he was braced over her, one arm planted beside her head, the other working low at his waist. A sheen of sweat had already gathered at his forehead, his breath uneven. 

Without thinking she brushed her foot along his thigh. His muscles went rigid instantly, breath ripping out of him. 

The comdom in his hand—too small, useless—got tossed aside. He grabbed her ankle, hauled her closer, and the next second he slid into her in one hard, breath-stealing push.

Her mind blanked, wiped clean. The rush hit her before he even moved, a deep, drowning pull that made her body tighten around him again and again, leaving him shaking, veins standing at his neck.

Julian hadn’t planned on any of this. He’d told himself he’d keep distance, even waited until Violet was asleep before coming in. 

But the moment Julian caught the faint scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her back under his palm… he slipped. Just wanted to hold her—only that—but she kept shifting in his arms, brushing against him, nudging every place he was fighting to keep still.

His self-control—something he was always so damn proud of—crumbled like nothing.

“F*ck…” The pleasure crawling up his spine made him grit his teeth, brow drawn tight.

Violet’s soft, breathy sounds pushed him over the edge, filling his head with static.

The room was thick with heat, the air unsteady around them. His gaze locked on her face, on the way she clenched the pillow behind her, eyebrows pinched as she tried to take the force of each deeper, harder thrust.

Everything they’d tried to bury—feelings they thought they’d hidden so well—slipped through tonight, spilling out in the heat of it all.