20. Sully
CHAPTER TWENTY
sully
ELLIE SAT ON THE couch with a bowl of popcorn, positioning herself as far away from me as possible. I eyed the space between us, hating it. Wondering how to get rid of it. Deliberating if it was really necessary.
When she caught me staring, she cocked her head to the side. “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just…we’re not in high school anymore, you know?” I laughed, though it sounded hollow. “My mom’s not going to come in and force a pillow between us if we sit too close.”
Ellie tossed a kernel in her mouth. “You don’t know that. She might.”
The image of my mom walking into the room—puppy in hand, most likely—popped into my head. Yeah, it was certainly possible, but I couldn’t imagine her constructing a pillow fort between us the way she did when Ellie and I had first started dating. It would definitely be the opposite.
“If my mom walked in right now, she’d probably squeal and throw us a condom before running away again.”
The corner of Ellie’s mouth quirked as she raised a brow. “Condom’s kinda unnecessary at this point, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said dryly, seriously wishing I’d been more careful when I picked my words and wishing Ellie hadn’t piggybacked off them.
Because now I was thinking about condoms.
I was thinking about the last time I’d used a condom.
I was thinking about being inside Ellie, and fuuuuck.
I was thinking about how that condom hadn’t made a goddamn difference.
And what it would be like now—to be inside her without a condom.
God, what I wouldn’t give to—shit, no, I needed to stop. I needed to not think about this. At least not right now. Not while she was right next to me, giving me a cautious glance.
I should say something else. I should really say something else, anything else.
“You good?” she prompted when I couldn’t think of one damn appropriate comment.
An unsteady sigh left my lips. “I’d be better if you didn’t put ideas in my head, Eleanor.”
She laughed, but it was breathy. Slightly strangled. “I wasn’t—” A rosy blush spread across her cheeks as she tucked her feet beneath her bottom and set the popcorn bowl down. “I’m not trying to. I’m trying not to, actually. Why do you think I’m all the way down here?”
The question wasn’t doing what she hoped it would. Because she sounded like she regretted it. Like she wanted to be closer. Next to me. Touching me.
“Why are you all the way down there?”
It wasn’t like I’d expected her to sit on my lap or anything, but this level of separation felt almost comical, considering we were two people who used to intertwine every limb to make it harder for my mom to force pillows between us.
“I…” She floundered for a second. “I guess I’m just trying to make it easier.”
Easier.
Nothing about this would be solved by an extra foot or two of distance on an already too-small couch.
“For who?”
“I don’t know. Both of us?”
Both of us.
That meant she was struggling with this, too. Struggling with the proximity, with not falling into old habits. Struggling not to think about the things we did that got us into this situation in the first place.
Exhaling, I reached across the couch to grab a handful of popcorn, trying to act casual.
It was ridiculous, but I was more nervous around Eleanor now than I’d ever been when I was a teenager.
It had been so easy back then. I was just a guy who liked a girl, and I was lucky enough that she’d liked me, too. And now, everything was messy.
“You pick what to watch,” I said, even though she appeared well on her way to doing that.
“That means you can’t complain when I pick…” She scrolled until she landed on a movie I knew she loved. “The Princess Diaries.”
“I won’t.” I didn’t give a damn what we watched as long as she let me watch it with her. “That’s perfect.”
She started the movie. And occasionally, when we reached into the bowl, our fingers would brush. A spark of electricity that should be innocent shot through my veins, but it only reminded me of all the other times I’d touched her.
Eventually, about the time that Anne Hathaway discovered she was the princess of a country no one had ever heard of before, Ellie decided to lie down.
And even then, she scrunched her feet so they wouldn’t touch my legs, making a knife twist in my gut as I watched her get comfortable.
As I watched her be so careful not to cross an invisible line.
I hated that line.
I wanted it gone.
“El, you can stretch out.”
We hadn’t talked much through the movie, and Ellie jerked, glancing over her shoulder at me.
“What?”
“You can put your legs on my lap, it’s okay.”
“Oh.” The idea seemed to bewilder her, but she cautiously did as I said, placing both her feet across my lap.
She wore socks, but her legs were bare, and I decided the best course of action to keep me from staring at said legs was to drape a retro-colored crocheted blanket over them, which I grabbed from the back of the couch.
“Thanks,” Ellie murmured once I’d gotten everything situated so she might be more comfortable and I might be less tortured.
She flashed me a tiny smile, her eyes catching on mine.
They yanked something inside me when they moved back to the TV screen—that tiny glimpse, that minuscule smile, had hooked into my heart, and now she was just tugging me around.
Not really sure where to put my hands, I awkwardly stared at my lap for a few minutes before eventually resting one arm along the top of the couch and the other on the blanket, along the curve of Ellie’s foot.
“Is this okay?” I asked, and Ellie huffed a laugh.
This was so ridiculous, and we both knew how ridiculous it was, but, like, what else was I supposed to do?
“Yeah, Sawyer.” She snuggled deeper into the throw pillow her head rested on. “It’s okay.”
I nodded and sank further into the couch, too, willing my body to relax. I reminded myself that I’d asked for this, to stay here, to spend time with her. And it would get easier. It had to get easier.
Eventually, the familiar sounds of Eleanor’s favorite teenage movie lulled me into a false sense of security, and I finally got sucked into it. Twenty or so minutes passed in somewhat blissful coexistence before I felt a shudder work through Ellie, followed by a laugh that warmed my insides.
“That tickles,” she giggled, and that was when I realized that my hand had found its way to her foot, my fingers wrapped around it, dragging along her arch absentmindedly.
“Oh, shit, sorry.” I dropped her foot like it had burned me, but to my surprise, Ellie shook her head.
“No, I…I didn’t mind it.” She cast a look over her shoulder. “That spot just tickled more than the others.”
I knew which spot she was talking about. The curve right before her heel had always been sensitive.
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
“I know,” she said, very matter-of-factly.
One shoulder lifted and fell. “You always used to…” She stopped.
Probably because she’d been about to say that I always used to touch her.
I always had my hands on her. I always fidgeted with her clothes, her hair, her fingers.
“I don’t mind,” she tried instead, repeating her words from earlier. “I…it’s nice. You can keep doing it.”
“Okay.” I wrapped my hand around her foot again, unable to turn down an opportunity to touch Ellie. “I’ll try not to tickle so much.”
“Maybe just press a little…” Her dark gaze flicked to my face. “Harder?”
I tried to convince myself that the gleam in her eyes, the way they simmered, was all in my head, but heat flared inside me anyway.
“You want a foot massage, El?”
Another shrug. “I mean, I’m not gonna say no.”
“Of course not,” I laughed before pressing my thumb into the arch of her foot.
“Mm,” Ellie hummed, her lips pressed together, eyes fluttering shut as she put her head back on her pillow.
Ah, fuck me. First the tacos, now this.
It wasn’t even very loud. It was the faintest noise of contentment, really.
But I was so fucking attuned to the way this woman sounded when I was touching her, making her feel good.
I craved those sounds, collected them as my prized possessions, recorded them in my head so I’d never forget how perfect she was.
Still, the rational thing to do would be to stop. To not push my luck here. But stopping might make a sad Ellie, and all I wanted in this world was a happy Ellie.
I cleared my throat. “Maybe I should add this to the list,” I quipped, trying to keep things light. Ya know, make it less obvious that her tiny, pleasure-filled hums shot straight to my dick.
Her eyes opened again, skirting to the side. To me. “The list?”
“Yeah, of the things I could do every night when I come over. Dishes, foot massage, bedtime story.”
“Oh my God,” she muttered, exasperated but smiling as she refocused on the TV.
And then another oh my God came out of her mouth, but it was more of a groan this time—in response to the way I worked both thumbs into her arch.
I must be a glutton for punishment because I didn’t stop.
I continued to massage Ellie’s feet, switching back and forth between the two, despite how her little moans and mewls of appreciation were making my skin prickle with awareness.
It only took a few minutes before my cock betrayed me, twitching to life, and I was just grateful that my lap was half-covered by the end of the blanket, and Ellie’s eyes were mostly staying on the TV.
I decided I’d happily do this every night. Honestly, the temptation and agony of wanting her was manageable as long as she didn’t—
“Sawyer,” Ellie sighed, and my eyes shot to her face as my cock pulsed. She was staring at the TV like she didn’t even realize that she’d just mouthed my name like that, all throaty and wanton and fuck.
“Yeah, El?” I murmured before I had a chance to think better of it. “That feel good?”
“Mhm.”
I watched as she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and a curse rasped out between my lips. Because goddamn, I still wanted that mouth so bad. I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it.
Ellie’s eyes darted to mine.
“What’s wrong?”
Shit.
“Nothing.” I gave my head an unconvincing shake.
The room was dim, but there was a lamp in the corner that shed enough light on Ellie for me to see color flood her cheeks. The prettiest blush, like she’d belatedly realized what she’d done.
“You tried to say it was nothing earlier, too.”
A heavy exhale fell from my lips. “Well, that’s all I can really do here. I’m just…trying.”
Ellie nodded and pulled her feet from my grasp, twisting her body away from me and tucking her legs back up, curling into a ball again.
And while I knew she was trying to make everything better, it did, in fact, make everything worse.
Because the blanket got yanked forward in all her frantic rearranging, and the little sundress she’d been wearing tangled around her, too, meaning I was left with a perfect view of her nearly bare—and completely perfect—ass.
This time, a groan came out of my mouth, and then I was desperately grabbing at a discarded throw pillow on the ground and launching it between us.
Dramatic, probably.
But necessary.
My erection was already raging; I didn’t need any fuel to make it worse.
“Oh!”
Ellie seemed surprised by my pillow assault, the exact thing I’d said wouldn’t happen now that we were older, and then comprehension appeared to dawn as she laughed, pulling at her dress and readjusting the blanket.
“Sorry.” She gave another breathless giggle. “I mean, it’s not anything you haven’t seen before.”
“True.” I ran a hand down my face, trying to get my shit together.
Trying not to think of the last time I’d seen her bare ass: when she’d been bent over for me on a hotel bed while I fucked her senseless.
“But I’m not used to seeing you and not getting to touch you.
” I cleared my throat, and my voice dropped a degree.
Or ten. “I also really don’t need fresh reminders or images to torture myself at night. ”
Ellie’s breath visibly hitched; I could see the catch in her throat and the way her breathing stuttered. Our eyes caught, hers bright and mesmerizing, as we locked into an odd battle of restraint and regret and desire.
And then Ellie surprised me, turning onto her back, propping herself against the pillow, and leaning forward with captivated interest. Her eyes flicked to my lap, finally taking note of the bulge there—how fucking hard I was for her.
“Earlier, in the car,” she started, and oh hell, her voice was all husky and thick. I recognized that voice, knew what it meant. “You said that you’ve spent the summer getting off to memories of me.”
“Eleanor.”
I didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know if it was a good idea. But she was right; I had said that. So I couldn’t exactly cast stones.
“Was that true?” she asked, ignoring me.
“Yeah, El.” No use in denying it, even if my voice sounded gruff, gravelly. Like I couldn’t quite get my throat to work properly. “All true.”
Very, very, undeniably true. She was all I ever fucking thought about when my hand was around my cock.
Her gaze dropped once more to it, to my aching erection, which pressed painfully against the zipper of my jeans. “Will you tonight?”
“What?”
She couldn’t possibly be asking what I thought she was asking.
Ellie brushed her bangs out of her eyes, almost like she wanted to see me better when she clarified, “Get off to memories of me.”
Yeah, okay, she was definitely asking what I’d thought she was asking.
My pulse pounded in my ears. “Do you want me to?”
I needed to know what the hell this was all about before I dared to say more.
Ellie flashed a surprisingly soft smile. “It doesn’t bother me…if that’s what you’re asking.” Yes, that was exactly what I was asking, actually. “So, will you?”
I stared at her, trying to make sense of this. But she just blinked those beautiful brown eyes at me, waiting for my answer. She was so beautiful and perfect and so utterly mine—in my head, anyway.
Of course I was going to think about her tonight. I was constantly thinking about her. Constantly aching for her.
“Eleanor,” I sighed.
She cocked her head to the side, her bottom lip slipping through her white, perfect smile. “Hm?”
Oh, so she wanted to be a little tease now, huh?
Goddamnit, fuck it all, then.
I leaned forward, no longer resisting the pull of her fuck-me eyes.
“Watching you eat that taco was possibly the most erotic experience of my life, and now you’re next to me making little moans and flashing your perfect, perky ass at me.
Being around you is the most intoxicating, arousing, unbelievable thing.
So yeah, I probably won’t even make it home before I stroke one out. ”
Her sinful smile grew. “I was hoping you would say that.”
I was panting now. Might even be drooling.
“Why, El?”
“I was just thinking…”
She worked one leg out from under the blanket and then the other, exposing her smooth, shapely limbs.
“What if you showed me?”