26. Twenty-Six

twenty-six

ELLIOT

In my Hilton hotel room I found something I wanted more than I ever wanted a future with Jenna. Something more than a TV show or the aftermath offers. A perfect match. Someone whose desire is equal to mine in every way. Someone who burns me up inside and keeps me wanting. Someone whose soul I want to fuse with my own.

But after a month of my emails to Ginger going unreturned, I had to reconsider my life again. What used to be enough was no longer enough. What I thought would work out never did. I wasn’t ready to give up, though. I emailed her again, hoping she’d give me one more chance.

Nothing.

The network kept offering more. Better.

I sent another email, desperate for a reason to tell the show no. Silence.

And it meant one thing: she was with the network. What happened between us was a one-night stand infused with all my rebounding emotion from the season, from being rejected by Jenna.

Ginger’s lack of response left me at a crossroads with only two paths to choose from. Say no to the network and be left to make mistake after mistake on my own and end up as lonely and pathetic as Michelle said I would, or give up on myself entirely and let my future be selected for me by the people who love me the most in the world.

My last email to Ginger was a Hail Mary, but I got exactly what I expected to get. Rejected. Four months had passed and her silence stung. It was the sting that drove my acceptance of everything the show has to offer. The promise of an unemotional match.

Obviously, I’m different. Something changed inside me after I contemplated a future with Jenna...after I let myself indulge in Ginger. She was everything I physically wanted, and yet the way she ignored me and pushed me into the arms of the network burned worse than Jenna’s rejection ever did.

In turn, I rejected the notion of finding a “perfect” match and the idea of having it all. My life has been nothing but moving from one fantasy to the next, and I needed to grow up or I’d end up bitter and alone, which I fear more than I care to admit. My mother found someone safe after her love story ended, and she’s happy-ish. But she’s never had to be alone. She’s had me and Natalie. A built-in support system. A family.

If nothing else, I came back to Matched wanting that. If my marriage sucks, at least I’ll get some kids out of it. Some kind of connection where love is implied. Unconditional.

My only criteria for a mother for my children: she be on the same page I am. I told myself love is quicksand. A trap door. It’s no kind of foundation to build a future on.

Now, love is the only thing that matters. In a million years, I never would have predicted Ginger would fall right back into my arms, or match my passion in every kiss, in each glance she sends my way. Or clean vomit off my chest, or get me to cross a gorge on a zip line. She might not always give me what I want, but at every single turn, she’s been exactly what I need. I shouldn’t have signed a contract; I should have knocked on her door. Hindsight’s a bitch.

“Fuck, Elliot, don’t ruin this. Don’t say a bunch of shit to get me to spend the night with you. I’m here, okay? Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Ginger, I wanted you from day one. Whether you believe it or not, that night at the Hilton wasn’t me trying to forget about Jenna. It was me trying to get to you. I’d thought about you. I dreamt about you. The only proof I’ve got to offer is did it seem like I wanted anything else that night? Was I, or was I not down on my knees for you?”

A dark blush creeps up her pale cheeks. “I was your only option that night...”

A frustrated laugh huffs from my mouth. “How many times did I write you?”

“I don’t know...like...eleven?”

“Why would I do that?”

She clears her throat, and it makes a prim little sound. “Look, I was there, too. I know it was kind of a night for the record books. But I didn’t take those emails to mean anything besides you wanted to do it again.”

“I did want to do it again,” I say.

“See?”

“Exclusively.”

Her expression remains bland and unmoved. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you were ready to marry someone else. You were looking for more. And then, when you started talking to the network, what was I supposed to think? You still wanted more.”

“They were relentless, and you know it. But I wanted more from you first .”

“Well, you weren’t super clear about that,” she says, annoyed.

“Did you even read the emails?” I ask.

She averts her gaze. “I read the first one.”

The first one wasn’t my best work. It makes sense she thought I was looking for another one-nighter if that was all she saw. As I recall, it was something along the lines of Hey, I’ll be in town this weekend. Want to meet up for another drink? “Well, if you’d read the others, you would have seen I was very clear.”

“So this is my fault?”

I sigh. “Do you believe me at least?”

She finishes her wine, walking to the table to set down her glass. “No one’s ever...” The whispered sentence goes unfinished.

“I fucked up, too. I forgot what being anywhere near you does to me.” I stand behind her, hands on her hips, my chin resting on top of her head. “How I can’t see anything else.” Surely I’ve managed to demonstrate that, at least.

“Elliot, I’m not ready for the kind of life you’re looking for.”

If she isn’t ready, I’ll wait. Having her is more important than some boring fantasy I invented to take her place. I wrap my arms around her waist. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t you think that matters?” she asks. “Because you can still have that.”

“Not with them, Ginger.”

“But there’s literally no way out,” she says.

“I know it seems that way, but there’s always something.”

She turns to face me. “I don’t think there is.”

“Can we not worry about that right now? Tonight, I need to know you’re with me.”

Her gaze drifts to my mouth. “How can you tell it’s love and not something else?”

“Easy. Because I’d rather be patching a hole in your kitchen wall or taking out your trash than spending a single second with any other woman in Paris.”

Ginger’s breath shudders as it enters her chest. “Because I want you so much, I don’t feel like I can tell.”

I run a hand up her back, beneath her hair, stopping at the nape of her neck. “How much?”

“Like a lot.”

Guiding her to the bed, I lay her down and move above her, my growing erection gliding over her pubic bone before settling against her belly. She closes her eyes, her neck arching up. I kiss her throat.

“Don’t leave a mark,” she whispers.

“I won’t leave one here.” I lick her instead, the soft floral taste of her sending shocks of need through my core. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Didn’t I?”

Normally at this point I’d be in a rush to expose all of her, but tonight, it’s difficult to tear my gaze from her face—the lingering pink tinting her broad cheekbones, the bare nakedness of her perfectly formed lips, the soft haze of desire blurring her dark eyes as they half close.

My mouth grazes hers. “Tell me you want me the most.”

She sucks in a breath. “More than anything.”

I freeze, staring at her until her eyelids flutter all the way open.

“What?” she whispers.

I’d love to know what I started doing right. When she changed her mind about me. What made her finally surrender to the feeling I’ve known all along is undeniable between us, but I also knew better than to delve too deep. Sshe’s as good at second-guessing as I am.

At the moment, I have her exactly where I want her. “I love you,” I whisper in return, not waiting for a response, but kissing her instead.

Her arms move to wrap around my back, causing all my weight to sink on top of her, my own arms trapped by hers and useless. Using my legs and the strength of my body, I turn us onto our sides, freeing up one of my hands to cradle her face. I bring my lips slowly back to hers. This kiss is better, and she lets me set the pace. I go slow, trying to discover what it is about the way she kisses me back that’s ruined me for anyone else.

Her kiss is perfect. The way our mouths grip each other, the rhythmic movements of our tongues as we keep coming back for one more taste, each stroke building a bigger urgency for another and another—it’s addicting. But even better is the way she leans into it with her entire body. She has the fabric of my shirt fisted in one hand and is pulling me closer to her. Her chest and hips press into me as her leg slowly moves over mine to trap me against her. The shuddering moans she makes when our mouths separate to draw breath and the tiny gasps she takes as our lips connect again feel specifically tailored to me. Like she was created to fill every void of desire I’ve ever had. Like she was made for me.

But that isn’t enough. It’s one thing for us to fit—to want each other. God knows we’ve never struggled with that . I need to know we’re still in this together. “Ginger,” I breathe, tearing myself away.

“No, don’t stop,” she says, eyes still closed, mouth searching for mine, her body still clinging tight.

I hold her face, waiting for her to look at me. Finally, she blinks and our gazes meet.

I have no idea what I look like right now besides lovesick, but something about my face causes her to release her death grip on my shirt and lay a hand against my cheek. “The way you look at me...” she says softly.

“I can’t help it.”

“It’s a problem.”

“I know.”

“It’s not one I want to solve right this second,” she says.

“I’m not sure it’s solvable.”

Maybe she could share her secret. How she manages to mask her desire every time we’re on set.

She slides her thumb across my lips. “It’s irresistible.” A tiny frown creases her brow. “Why did we stop?”

I take a breath, bracing myself for whatever truth is about to drop. “I can’t make another mistake.”

She half-smiles in a way that makes me want to kiss her until the polar ice caps melt. “I think you’re about four mistakes too late to say that.”

I would smile with her, but I can’t make myself. “I mean it.”

GINGER

I let my grin disappear. I run my hand through his hair until I have a firmer grip on his head. If he needs me to say this isn’t a mistake, I can’t. It’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. A tragic misstep where for sure my heart will wind up broken and kicked into some Paris storm drain somewhere. But like the first time with him, I treat it like the last chance I’ll get. My final opportunity to leave an indelible mark on his life, wherever it winds up. We’re on different trajectories. We know this can never work.

But none of that changes the fact that at some point along the way, he stole my heart. “What do you want me to say?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Something to make me feel less pathetic.”

A short, soft laugh escapes me as he drops his head to the bed. His eyes close, and he releases a sigh like a breath he’s been holding too long.

“So...not something along the lines of how bad your timing is, or how impulsive you are...”

“You can skip all that.”

I snuggle close to him, tracing lines through his hair with my fingertips. “More like, I love you, too, then? More like—if we make it through this, we might have a chance at something real?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“I mean it,” I tell him. “But I don’t see how it’s possible.”

“It’s enough to know you mean it.”

“So now what?” I ask.

“Shit, Ginger. I don’t want to talk strategy with you right now.” He flops onto his back, taking half my body with him.

I laugh at the tangle we wind up in and adjust my position to lie alongside him. “Neither do I, but I feel like this is the first time we’ve ever been alone together that you don’t have a raging boner. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

He lifts his head from the bed to survey his lap. “It’s yours, you know? You own it. You can make it or break it. One word, one look—it’s completely under your control.”

“Wow. Then I guess I’m flattered.” I lift a hand to rest on his crotch, finding the soft outline of him beneath his brushed cotton pants. “I’ve always wanted one of these...”

“To play with or, you know...to keep?”

“They are fun to play with, but I like the idea of having one all to myself.”

He lets a soft chuckle escape. It ends up being a super sexy sound, and I grip him tighter in search of another, sexier sound.

He delivers with a low groan, and like a magic trick stiffens in my hand.

I unbuckle his belt, my arousal surging again. It makes it easier not to think about the possible consequences of the moment—being with him, falling so hard for him. Sex is like—the world’s best distraction from reality. “Tell me more about these dreams you used to have about me.”

“They were pretty dirty. I don’t want you to think I’m here for the wrong reasons.”

I smile, reaching into his pants to release his now rigid cock. “I feel like we’ve firmly established that’s exactly why you’re here,” I murmur with a long, firm downward stroke. Elliot is a perfect man top to bottom. His cock is no exception. I’ve never gotten this good of a look at it, but I’m duly impressed with his natural beauty.

“I’m an idiot,” he says.

“You’re so pretty, though.” And I’ve wanted to do this for a while now. Moving to settle between his thighs, I suck his crown between my lips.

“Ginger…” he sighs, a hand immediately shoving into my hair.

With a firm grip on his base, I work my way down his cock, licking and sucking until my chin meets my knuckles, and his tip grazes my tonsils. From there, I bob up and down, working him over and savoring the soft slip of his skin around the steel rod of his length.

I’m not a woman with a lot of time to date, so my sex life consists mostly of porn and a multi-pronged vibrator. I get turned on by a lot of things—women kissing, men kissing, but more than anything, I love watching a good blow job. Not the kind where the woman is playing to the camera or smiling like she’s putting on a show, but the kind that has the man making sounds like he could come any moment and whoever’s blowing him looks fully intent on their task.

That’s me right now. Licking his precum off his tip and swallowing down more and more of his length until my hand is in the way. When I manage to fit him into my throat, he makes one of those sounds that usually has me coming on my vibrator. My pussy clenches, and I hump my hips into the bed, doing my best to take even more of him.

“ Fuck …Jesus, Ginger…”

His cock twitches in my mouth, another slick stream of precum sliding down my throat. I groan around him and suck my way off, only then looking up at him and his half-wrecked face.

I run a hand up his chest and climb on top of him. Between my thighs, his cock twitches again, and I lower my mouth to his. His answering kiss is hard and deep, his hands on me clawing and desperate. He wastes no more time rolling me over again, pinning me to the bed to strip off my clothes. I help him out of his, eager to see all of him, feel everything.

If this has to be our last time, I’ll make the most of it—so many moments between us, I managed to throw away, dismiss as if they didn’t mean a thing, but he’s worked so hard to get me to this place. To barrel through all my cynicism and make me feel really and truly cherished. He deserves my complete and total attention. My adoration. My love.

He snaps a condom into place, parts my thighs, and slides two fingers down my seam before pressing them inside me. “Shit, you’re so wet.”

This much, I already know. I’m also aching for him, and this much show on my face because he takes his cock in hand and slowly guides himself inside me. My thighs drop open to accommodate him. He gives me his full length, and I moan as he sinks in achingly deep. Gathering my body in his arms, his mouth meets mine with unmistakable relief. A passionate sweep of his tongue sets our bodies in motion.

I hold on tight, desperately afraid to let him go. Having him all to myself for one last night isn’t enough. If I’m honest with myself, having him for one night only at the Hilton wasn’t enough, either, but I managed to make my peace with it. Everything would have been fine, my life could have proceeded along its track, if I never had to see him again. But seeing him again, being near him, being alone with him, reawakened an urge inside me to prove both to him and to myself that it had not, in fact, been meaningless .

I never expected it to work.

As he moves inside me at a languid, sexy pace, I try to focus on the way he feels. Memorize the shape of him, how he fills me, the way he kisses me, the angles he uses to bring me to the brink, but none of it makes sense—I only feel my heart—bending, breaking, searching for the answer to a question I have no clue how to answer— How do I keep you?

But he isn’t going anywhere. Not tonight, at least. Eventually, his strokes quicken, deepen. My body responds, meeting him thrust for thrust, the thickness of him creating an irresistible friction between my legs.

“Close,” he pants near my ear, the heat of his breath blazing a trail straight to my g-spot, proof of the primal connection between us I’ve never been able to deny.

But this is more. And tonight he makes all my excuses feel flimsy and frivolous. Of course I want him. Of course I love him. The fear of losing him is enough to close my throat.

“Ginger, I’m gonna come.”

I nod, finding his mouth to kiss him through it.

As he throbs heavily inside me, his entire body shudders to a stop. My pussy pulses around him, begging for a release I’m afraid to take for fear it might mean something.

His hand moves slowly down my side. “Give me another chance,” he whispers.

I shouldn’t. I should go. This is too much.

He kisses my chest, my breasts, my stomach, then he pulls out, slides down my naked, panting body and licks my clit. I close my eyes, bend my knees, and let Elliot change my mind.

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