julietroux:
This was a game of words, a battle of the minds — and for one second, one brief moment, Juliet believed she had bested him, when Lowell dropped his chin an inch and let loose a laugh that sounded almost unstable. And though she ought to feel proud of herself for getting a reaction from him after all this time, she only felt a stinging pain at the sight of him not smirking down at her, hair falling over his eyes in the familiar way that so enraptured her (though she’d be loath to admit it).
When he looked up at her again, a familiar grin on his lips (those lips), she nearly sighed with relief. There is the Lowell I know. For though Juliet often told herself that she would never let him see her heart, though she convinced herself that he was infuriating and must be destroyed — there was no one she looked forward to speaking with more. He was her equal, in every sense of the word; without him, the world would be far too easy. Boring, even.
This was the first crack at the armor she wore. The second was the tremor in her chest when he called the two of them kindred spirits. He likened her to his equal as well, and something inside Juliet weakened. Two strikes — that was all it took, for it was all he needed to win. He won, he won every battle when Juliet softened beneath such a compliment (for she knew him well enough to know this was, indeed, a compliment). Her lips parted with surprise and something… something warm, some small fire that rose to her cheeks and colored her pink. And she might have seceded, she might have raised a white flag and run away, if he did not threaten her: There’s so much I’d love to do to you…
What, Lowell? What do you want to do with me? The question burned her lips, but she feared to release it, give the question a voice that might end precariously. And end precariously it did, for suddenly, there was the hot fire of his mouth on hers, the warmth of a hand touching her more firmly than Juliet had ever felt. Ashton had been all questioning touches, softness that made her bloom beneath his lips. But Lowell was a wildfire, and he unlocked something wild and fierce inside of her. Her mouth opened with a gasp, her hands curled into fists and grabbed at his tie — only instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer. There was no room for thought, no room for reason; there was only Lowell and his closeness, Lowell and his lips, Lowell and — “Lowell,” Juliet moaned, unable to help the way his name fell from her lips like a prayer.
The cry of surrender, his name, gave way to her tongue curling around his as she molded every curve of her body into his, until it felt as if there was no part of her untouched by him — until she was him. ( Kindred spirits, indeed. )
And then — and then she remembered who she was. Juliet Roux, a woman who would not be seduced by the likes of Lowell Kensington, with his devil’s smile and his siren song. With another shuddering gasp, Juliet ripped her lips away from his, lifting her chin and staring up at the ceiling with unbridled desire in her eyes. Get yourself together, Juliet, she screamed at her heart, which cried out for more of Lowell’s touch.
“What — what are you doing,” she tried to snarl. But her words came out in a shuddering breath, a desperate attempt for air after Lowell threatened to steal everything inside of her. “What are we doing,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
With every little noise that she made, Lowell couldn’t help but widen his grin. For such a classy lady who had no problem talking him down a notch or two, she was certainly holding onto his words more than he had expected her to. He expected it to be harder, to weasel his way into her mind and to get her to realize that what she wanted in this moment was not to destroy him but to allow him to move in closer and closer to her. There was so much about Juliet that Lowell didn’t know, but with a few more nights like this one, he was sure that he would be able to get her telling him everything he ever wanted to know, maybe even more than he needed to know.
Slowly but surely, the great queen was starting to fall. It was only a matter of time, eventually everyone gave in and accepted the fact that they were no match for the great and almighty Lowell Kensington. But sometimes, like this incident, he wished that the other person would put up a little bit more of a fight. He viewed her as he equal, he had told her that much already. And to see her began to crack and crumble already was a tad bit disappointing. But with the shrug of his shoulders, the thought was gone and is attention was focused in on her again.
And there she was continuing to temp and tease him. The slight part of her lips was enough to catch his eyes. He focused in, not looking away from them as he slightly bit down on his own as he just thought about the feeling of their lips pressed against one another. He had kissed many people in his lifetime, but something told him that things with her might not be the same as all the others. Maybe it was the feeling that he got in his chest as he looked at her. The feeling that continued to twist and twist as he denied himself of her. Shifting his eyes from her lips, he noticed the faint color in her cheeks. Tilting his head to the side, knowing exactly what she was thinking in this exact moment.
And in that moment, he had finally snapped. He had lost control of himself and his actions. If it was up to him, he would’ve waited even longer before pressing his lips against her, he would have her begging for his touch before he would finally give it to her (only to take it away cruelly after a few moments). But in this moment, he was weak himself, he couldn’t stand to leave anymore space between them. While there were plenty of times where he wanted to claw his own eyes out as she went on about some stupid article in Vamour, the was a part of him that couldn’t help but want to discover and examine every inch of her. The feeling of her grabbing onto his tie only served as an encourager to him. Lowell moved to deepen his kiss when he heard her moan his name. Not mumble, not whisper, but moan. His lips twisted into a smirk as his other hand wrapped around her waist as he turned his head into their kiss.
As Juliet moved to bring their bodies closer, there was not fight coming from Lowell. He would happily move anywhere he wanted to. It just so happened that he was extremely pleased that she had decided that she wanted him on top of her.
His hands continued to squeeze her side as his mouth parted ever so slightly allowing his tongue to slip inside of her mouth. Just as he was starting to fully get into their kiss, there she was pulling away from him. He felt the air leave his body as she pried her lips away from his. Disappointment fell all over his body, but his face remained calm, trained not to show any emotion that would make him appear to be weak. Lowell watched her carefully as she tried to deny herself of his touch.
But seeing that she no longer wanted to do this, Lowell took a step away from her. He was many things, but he was not the type of person to force someone into a situation that they didn’t want to be apart of. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets before answering her questions.
“I decided not to keep a beautiful lady waiting… But to give you a more precise answer, I believe that we were kissing.”