My Ellie (The Perfectly Paired #1)

Chapter 26

Ellie

Instead of the grueling five-mile run I usually subject myself to every morning, I’ve opted for a leisurely stroll. My mind wanders, straying towards what awaits me in the kitchen of the coach house, what I might do once confronted with the man that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last twelve hours.

Colton Brooks is hard to stop thinking about on the best of days, but when I think about him in more depth, more detail, it becomes impossible to ignore all the kind gestures—impossible to think of him in a way that doesn’t make my cheeks burn.

Not only is he the most handsome man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, he’s also pure hearted and kind. I’m never left guessing when it comes to him, I know if I ask—he’ll tell me. And if he wants to know something—he’ll ask. I feel like I know this man that I met just over a month ago better than most of the people I’ve spent my life around.

We understand each other and it’s never felt rushed, never felt forced.

And he thinks I’m beautiful.

He’s not the first man to tell me so, but he’s the first one I’ve believed. Ulterior motives are so easily perceived, it’s never too hard to tell when someone is telling you exactly what they think you want to hear. It’s like they’re reading from a script.

I’ve never once felt uncomfortable around Colton, never once found his presence to be unpleasant or unnerving.

My brain and my heart are at war, they have been for some time, but. last night the stakes were upped and I felt my heart taking the upper hand in the battle.

He’s been a constant for you all summer, my heart bleeds, he’s always been there for you, such kind eyes in a sea of serpents. You knew from the second you laid eyes on him that he was special, admit it! He’s a veritable sex god and he is INTO YOU! This could not be more perfect. You need to grab the bull by the horns here, you’re perfect for each other.

I try to tell myself to approach this with a level head—my heart needs to hear my brain out, but neither are keen to listen. The war rages, there are bodies on the battlefield, and it looks to be neck and neck at this point.

Think about this rationally, my brain pleads, he’s only here for the summer, you’re only here for the summer. Imagine what this will feel like when it’s over. He’s not going to stay here for you, no matter what your silly heart is telling you. He loves his home, his family, and he’ll be returning to them in a few weeks’ time. I’m not sure therapy can fix a broken heart, and how will this affect your Olympic career? You need to be realistic. Friends are safe, anything more than that could be a complication that might be difficult to recover from.

They’re still battling ferociously as I step up to the back door of the coach house. Time moves all-too slowly as I reach for the doorknob, gently turning it in my palm and pushing the wooden door open to reveal the man at the center of all of my thoughts.

At the sight of him laying our loaded breakfast plates onto the table, his dimpled grin making an appearance as he spots me in the doorway, my heart emerges victorious, and my brain falls into a steaming heap on the floor.

“Good morning,” His rich, deep voice makes me want to close my eyes, curl into his chest and beg him to just speak for the rest of the morning.

But I have other plans.

“Hi,” I manage, feebly, before clearing my throat, “Feeling a bit better today?”

He nods as he places our cutlery down on the table, “Much better. Thank you—for yesterday.”

“I already told you,” I take a few slow steps forward, “You don’t need to thank me,” Another step, my heart races in my chest—not in the way that makes my stomach turn in knots, no, I feel alive.

“When I didn’t see you at dinner last night, I thought about coming to knock on your door, but I figured I’d probably gotten you in enough trouble for the day.” I wonder if his voice has always sounded so sumptuous, so comforting, or if I’m only just letting myself appreciate it fully.

He lifts his gaze from the table, tilting his head almost imperceptibly as he watches me approach in silence .

What would have happened if he had come to knock on my door last night? Would I have let him in? Would I have told him how I’m feeling? Do I even have the balls to tell him now ?

Yes, I think I do.

“I... I need to tell you something.” I almost blurt it out, as if I’m confessing to something downright awful. Not the smoothest transition, but let’s run with it.

He turns himself to face me fully, concern marking his features. “Is everything alright? Do you need—”

“I just need to tell you,” I take another step, one more and I’ll be close enough to feel the warmth of his body, close enough to smell the familiar cedar and spice scent that I’d, quite frankly, like to bathe in.

My heart reaches a crescendo and my skin thrums as I open my mouth and let the words fall out, “I need to tell you that I don’t want to just be friends—I mean, I want to be friends, but my feelings have progressed beyond friendship, and I need to tell you that. I need you to know that I think you’re... well, I don’t quite have the words,” I take one last tentative step towards him, breath catching in my throat as I look up at his face, “I think you’re amazing. And I really like you, Colton.” I manage to smile feebly. “What are you thinking?” I whisper, needing to hear him speak.

“I think,” His voice sends shudders racing through me as he slowly reaches a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he cherishes the few seconds of contact. “This is going to hurt like hell when summer’s over.” He breathes with a smile and my eyes catch the way his throat works.

“Are you scared, cowboy?” I ask, not sounding half as confident as I’d planned.

“Absolutely,” He nods with a smile, both of his large hands coming up to cup my face. “What about you?” His voice is tender, a little breathless, as if his own heart is racing just as fast as mine.

I raise my shaking hands to lay flat on his chest as I watch him scan every inch of my face, “Terrified.” I smirk, pressing myself a little closer to his body.

He breathes deeply, and cranes his head down slowly, “I’ve been wanting to do this from the day I laid eyes on you.”

His mouth crashes into mine, a tender, fervent kiss as he pulls me closer to him. My hands bunch in his shirt as I fight to anchor myself to him, to this moment.

He pulls back, breathless, face flushed, and looks as if he might ask me a question, but I don’t have any words right now.

I shake my head, removing my fisted hands from his shirt to snake around the back of his neck, it’s a reach but I just about make it on my tip toes. He smirks at me and there’s something feral in his gaze that makes my core heat and my legs quiver.

His lips find mine once more and it’s less gentle, but exactly what I want. I hum in approval as his hands move from my face to my waist. I open my mouth to welcome his tongue, nipping and sucking on his lips whenever he retreats slightly.

I can feel something hard pressing into my abdomen and if my hands weren’t tangled in his hair, they’d be investigating that with glee.

I feel brave in a way I never have before, and the fact that he seems to want me just as much as I want him is beyond thrilling. I’ve been desired before, I’ve done some desiring of my own, but it’s never worked out to where I’ve found myself in a situation of raw, mutual longing like this.

I’m drawn from my thoughts as Colton takes my bottom lip between his teeth and groans when I press my body harder against his.

One moment I’m on my tip toes, the next I’m being hoisted into the air with his hands cupping my arse. I wrap my legs around his waist, keeping my hands in his hair as he carries me over to the kitchen island. He continues to claim my mouth as he sets me down on the counter, nestling himself between my legs as his hands move up to grip my waist.

His hips press into me, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me, my cheeks burn but I can’t bring myself to care as pleasure rolls through me. I feel his body tense, the kiss becomes fierce and wild, his mouth roves from my lips down to my neck and I arch my body into his as he draws sounds from me that I wasn’t sure I could even make.

My hands travel underneath his shirt, the feel of his skin under my fingertips is enough to make me shudder again as he presses himself against my inner thighs.

I’m about to beg him to claim my mouth again when footsteps echo from the hallway as someone begins to descend the stairs. I hear him grumble as I freeze at the noise. He slowly, reluctantly pulls his mouth from my neck before stepping back.

I’m still panting as I hop off the countertop and busy myself with something—anything. I grab a kitchen towel and begin to wipe at absolutely nothing as someone enters the room behind me.

Colton is just lowering himself into his seat at the table as Peter’s voice travels across the space, “Isn’t this nice.” His tone is anything but nice, filled with condescension and loathing. “Did you make a plate for me?”

“No.” I grit out before leaving the towel in its spot on the island and taking my spot opposite Colton. I chance a look up at him and I wonder if my own face is as flushed as his. He works the corner of his lower lip with his teeth as he watches me take a steadying gulp of orange juice.

Has he always been this beautiful?

I find myself wanting to draw him, perhaps an oil painting—I’m certain that I could never do him justice. He rubs at his jaw before glancing down at his plate, it’s as if he has to remind himself that there’s someone else in the room with us.

“You won’t mind if I take my coffee in here,” Peter says, more of a statement than a question as he seats himself next to Colton. “Pippa and Lottie ended up staying over after a long afternoon of tape analysis, it’s a bit crowded in my room this morning.” He grins, watching us with bated breath for any sort of reaction.

“How wonderful for you, Peter,” I say absentmindedly as I get to work on my pancakes, “They say misery loves company, I trust you three will be very unhappy together.”

Colton snorts before draining his orange juice.

Sadly, Peter stays and reads the morning paper as we finish the rest of our pancakes. We don’t let his presence deter us from chatting about our plans for the day. Colton tells me about the barrel racing lesson he has planned for the boys, and I let him know what arena I’ll be training in before we meet for a team tape analysis session at lunch. There’s rain in the forecast, so we won’t be making it out for a trail ride today.

“That’s the one with all the mirrors on the walls?” He asks, as if he doesn’t know exactly which arena I’ll be in and at what time.

“That’s the one.” I say with a narrow-eyed smile. He winks at me, and I feel the heat return to my cheeks before I spot the time on the kitchen clock.

I sigh, “I’ve got to get going, I’ll, uh,” I stand, shooting a quick glance towards Peter who doesn’t appear to be paying us any attention, though I do notice him intensely scratching his crotch through his bottoms. “I’ll see you later?” My eyebrows rise as I silently convey the words I can’t say aloud.

I want to see you later. Clothing optional, no spectators.

He leans back in his chair and a dimple appears in his left cheek as he smirks up at me.

“Oh, absolutely.” The words are laced with promise and my throat works at the way his eyes are piercing me. “I’ll see you whenever you’re done with your tape meeting.” I nod, forcing myself to turn away from him and head for the hallway. His own unspoken words echo through my mind as I enter my room and ready myself for the day.

You know where to find me .