48. Jillian
FORTY-EIGHT
Jillian
Days blend into weeks, and before I know it, it’s August. My relationship with Elliott grows more intimate and stronger, but we have yet to go all the way. Even with seeing each other every day, he has not pushed for more. We kiss, we make out, but the clothes stay on. And Sheila is probably right with her assumptions that he’s waiting for me to take the lead. And coward that I am, I rather wait for him to take the choice off my hands.
It’s time. Sheila took Jamie to spend the night at her apartment and Elliott is coming over for dinner. Any minute now. He doesn’t know I’ve arranged for this. He doesn’t know it will be just the two of us tonight and that I’ve planned on us finally getting together. Time for me to move forward. I’ve never been with anyone other than CJ. Never even kissed anyone besides my late husband and Elliott. What if I’m a disappointment to him? He’s had so many women in his life.
Stop it!
The voice in my head sounds like Sheila. If she could hear the thoughts running through my mind, she’d smack me and say no man would stick around this long if he didn’t care about you and keep coming back for more. She’s right. I have to believe she’s right.
I check the time. Almost eight. Elliott will be here soon. I look around to make sure everything is in place. The table is set. There’s beer in the fridge. I didn’t cook. I figured I’d call for takeout today. After. It’s been a long time for me, but sex on a full stomach is not fun.
I do one last walk around the house. Close the door to Jamie’s room as if it could somehow add another layer of protection so he doesn’t know what I plan on doing tonight. Go into my bedroom. Check myself in the full-length mirror that has been propped against the wall since before we moved in. The blue summer dress fits me well. It’s feminine and delicate. The hem of the light fabric brushes my lower thighs with every step.
I turn in a circle, taking in the space. One lamp is on, set to the lowest setting. The bed is made with new bedding and clean, freshly washed sheets I bought for this occasion. I don’t know why I need the new sheets and bed cover. Or why I decided that our first time should be in the room I shared with CJ. There must be some symbolism to it, somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain. Perhaps a way to prove to myself that I’m truly and irrevocably stepping into a different version of myself.
The doorbell rings and I startle. My hands shake and I fist them. I want this. Want him—Elliott. It’s time.
I make my way downstairs and open the door for Elliott. The last few glints of the sunset disappearing behind buildings paint him in golden light. A mischievous smile on his beautiful face. My breath catches in my throat, and I have to swallow, hard. He’s not even inside the house and I’m already choking. On air. I take him in. As handsome as he is in the fancy suits he wears for work, I like him best like this. A plain, black T-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders, jeans that showcase his long and muscular legs, and sneakers.
“May I come in?” His smile widens.
I step back. “Of course.” Pull yourself together, Jillian.
Elliott comes into the hall and locks the door behind him. Takes a quick glance upstairs, sets the shopping bag he’s carrying on the floor, and then pulls me into him. One hand is behind my neck and the other is around my waist. His lips are on mine the next moment. Warm, soft, delicious.
My worries dissipate like smoke in the wind. I melt into him. My arms lift to his shoulders and clutch him closer. I deepen the innocent kiss he started. Take it in a different direction. One he didn’t expect, if his surprised moan is any indication.
I break the kiss before it gets out of control. I want him but not in the hallway where anyone walking by can see us through the glass-paneled door.
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “That’s a hell of a welcome. Keep that up and I’ll be knocking on your door all hours of the day and night.”
My cheeks burn. I tug at his hand and he picks up the forgotten bag and follows me upstairs.
“This should go in the fridge.” He hands me a bottle of wine when we walk into the kitchen. “And this is for you.” I recognize the logo on the box of dark chocolates. A very expensive and exclusive brand I buy only on special occasions .
“Thank you. Can never go wrong with chocolate. These are my favorites.”
“I have to be a little more creative since I can’t buy you flowers.” He looks around. “Where’s Jamie? I got him a puzzle. I figured we could do it after dinner.”
I nibble on my lower lip. “Jamie is not here. He’s spending the night with Sheila.”
His eyes lock on mine and darken with heat.
I swallow. “And I didn’t cook. I thought we could hang out and order takeout when we’re hungry.”
He takes a step closer. “I’m hungry now.” His gaze travels down my body and back up again. “I’ve starved myself for months. Since I first saw you at the flower shop.”
Does he mean what I think he does? “You mean you haven’t . . .”
He traces a finger along my jawline. “I haven’t been with anyone since we met. A few months before that, actually.”
I resist the urge to lean into him. “Wow. Why?”
He’s in my space now and I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “Because the moment I saw you, I was a goner. A deep sense of rightness settled in my chest, like a page turning in a story I didn’t know I was waiting for.”
I blink, trying to keep the threatening tears at bay. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
He touches the corner of my eye with his thumb, so gentle I can barely feel it. “You don’t have to say anything. I know we’re coming from different places. Neither of us was looking for a relationship but found it anyway, despite all the barriers we’ve both created.”
My lips part and my gaze drops to his mouth. It’s an invitation he doesn’t refuse. His mouth finds mine and I moan at the first contact. He deepens the kiss. It goes from gentle to ravenous. His hands clutch at my hips, pulling me closer to him. I go on tiptoes, my body flush with his. I explore the bulging muscles of his biceps, his shoulders, his back, anywhere and everywhere I can touch. His hands travel up and down my sides, my waist, my hips, and the outside of my thighs. I moan into his mouth and he grunts in response. He’s hard against my belly and the heat of him sets me on fire. I try to breathe, suck in air in between kisses. He smells so good. Clean and masculine.
He pulls away just enough to speak against my neck. “Where?”
I know what he’s asking me and point behind me. “My bedroom.”
His gaze lifts to mine then. A question in his eyes. A question he doesn’t verbalize.
I answer it anyway. “Yes, I’m sure.” I step back and take both his hands, walking backward and down the hall toward my bedroom. A space he’s not been before.
I try to see it through his eyes. The room is not large, but it’s big for New York standards. The light is dimmed but still bright enough to show the dark blue curtains that cover the double window that faces the side of the building. The queen-sized bed and nightstands take up most of one wall. A dresser and chair sit opposite. The room is decorated in shades of blue, like a Caribbean beach house.
His gaze finds me again as I stand there, waiting for his next move, the back of my knees against the mattress. My heart racing like it’s trying to get out of my chest. An erratic tempo and yet perfect for this moment. A moment of first time and letting go .
Elliott comes closer. “You tell me what you want. If you want me to stop, say so. If you don’t like what I’m doing, tell me.”
I nod and swallow the knot in my throat. “Let it happen.” I don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to feel. To feel alive, to feel loved, to be present.
And then he’s kissing me again. Gentle and tender, he traces my jawline with his lips, then kisses my eyes and my forehead. Dips to my neck and collarbone, his hands on my waist and hips.
Shivers run down my spine. The tiny hair on my arms stands. He drops to his knees and buries his face in my stomach. Drops kisses all over my belly and the curve of my hips. His hands go up and down my legs. I tremble and brace myself on his shoulders.
His hands come up my legs, bringing the hem of my dress with them. He stops at my hips and looks at me for permission. I nod with a shuddered breath. He stands up, and the fabric comes up with him, baring my thighs, my stomach, my breasts, and then it’s over my head and off. Elliott drops it to the floor and I stand before him in my underwear and bra while he’s completely dressed.
He takes a step back and then another. Takes me in. His gaze is slow and lazy, and it travels over every exposed inch of my skin. He kicks off his shoes and removes his T-shirt. He unbuttons his jeans, pausing for a moment to check with me again.
I give him another nod. The jeans come off, followed by his socks. He’s built like a cover model in a sports magazine. Broad chest with a light dusting of brown hair. Pecs and rippling ab muscles. The V of his obliques disappears under the band of his black boxer shorts. The dim light doesn’t disguise the bulge behind the cotton fabric.
And then it’s the two of us, standing in our underwear. Looking at each other. A little voice in my head wants me to cover myself up. My stomach is not as flat as it used to be before Jamie. My thighs are not as firm now that I no longer exercise as I once did. My breasts are not as perky after nursing my son for the first year of his life.
But Elliott doesn’t look at me like he’s seeing every single one of my flaws. He’s looking at me with heat, desire, and lust, and more than that, he’s looking at me with care and adoration and something else I dare not name. Not now. Not yet.
He holds his hand out to me, and I take it and pull him back with me onto the bed. He turns us and pulls back the covers with one swift move. He sits and pulls me between his legs. His head drops to my chest and I thread my fingers through his soft hair.
He inhales and releases his breath. It’s warm against my skin. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long and now that it’s here, I’m afraid I’ll do something to mess it up. I’m terrified of hurting you.”
I tilt his face up so I can look him in the eyes. “I want this—I want you. Not only because I’m attracted to you and l—like you, but because I know you won’t hurt me.” I kiss his forehead like he kissed mine a few minutes ago. “I trust you.”
He leans back and pulls me onto the bed with him.
His hands find the clasp of my bra and he releases me. Again, I fight the urge to cover myself. His hands are like a hot brand on my skin, burning everywhere he touches and leaving me wanting more.
He’s gentle beyond measure, and I know this is for me. He’s being careful and tender, and I love it, but after so long, I need more.
I tug at the waist of his boxers, and he follows my lead, removing them.
“Your turn.” He tugs at the last barrier between us. I lift my hips and then I’m bare.
The hunger in his eyes makes me shiver again. This is so much more than sex and lust. His hands cup my breasts and I moan when his mouth follows. Elliott touches me everywhere but where I need it most. I ache for him, for release. Ache for the most intimate of touches. I haven’t even touched myself all these years.
“Elliott, please.” My voice is husky and needy.
“Please what?” he says between kisses along my belly and hip bones.
“Please,” I repeat.
He lowers himself between my thighs, spreads them wide. I watch shamelessly as his gaze is fixed on that most private part of my body. And then the warmth of his breath touches me. I whimper, my hips tilting up of their own accord. His mouth finds me hot and wet and oh, I’m lost. I’m a puddle of sensation and lust and heat and pleasure so intense it hurts in the best of ways. I moan and whimper and writhe under his expert ministrations.
My back arches off the bed, my entire body tensing as if hit by lightning. My mouth opens, but no sound leaves me. There’s no air to breathe either. My entire body pulses as wave after wave of ecstasy hits me, unrelenting, unending, excruciating pleasure that verges on the edge of pain. When I come out of it, my limbs are limp, and my chest expands as I suck in much-needed air. I’m covered in a thin sheen of sweat. My body is buzzing, there are tears in my eyes, and my heart beats so fast I’m afraid I’ll pass out. I’m exhausted. If I tried to stand right now, I don’t think my legs could hold me.
Elliott climbs up my body and settles between my thighs. His hardness is hot against my belly. His smile is smug. His eyes twinkle. “I think you had an out-of-body experience.”
I giggle and try to slap his shoulder, but my hand flops back to the bed. I’m happy. “You may be right. I may have slipped into another dimension for a while there.”
His laugh makes him rub against my center and I moan a little. His gaze goes hot. I manage to cup his face with one hand.
“I bought condoms. On the side table.”
He looks over his shoulder and then reaches over. Pulls out the twelve-pack box. Lifts an eyebrow. “Someone is ambitious.”
My turn to laugh. “I didn’t expect them all to be used tonight. And the bigger box is cheaper by comparison if you do the math.”
“I’m glad you thought of it because I didn’t think of bringing any with me.” His gaze goes tender then. “I didn’t expect any of this to happen today. I was willing to wait.”
And that, that right there, is why I wanted to be with him. No pressure. No expectations. Infinite patience.
“I know.” I tilt my hips. Waggle my eyebrows. A sliver of my old self comes out to play. I’ve missed her.
He sits back, and I get a good view of his erection. Thick and long. The tip glistening. Elliott opens the box and removes a square foil. He rips it open with his teeth and rolls it on himself. His gaze on mine the entire time. Watching him sheath himself makes my mouth go dry.
“You’re okay?”
I nod. Anticipation builds inside me.
He positions himself between my thighs and I gasp at the initial pressure.
“I’ll go slow. Tell me if you need me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Breath catches in my lungs. “Okay.”
He pushes in and I shudder at that first contact. Little by little, my body gives in to him, welcoming him inside me. He braces himself, his elbows on either side of me. His gaze fixes on my face, and I close my eyes. It’s been so long, my inner muscles resist the invasion at first but give in under his gentle persistence, and it’s all we can do to stay still.
Elliott drops tender kisses all over my face; the curve of my jaw, my cheekbones, the tip of my nose, my eyes, my forehead, and finally, my lips. I kiss him back. I grab his shoulders, pull him closer, wrap my legs around his, then tilt my hips up as he inches inside me, bit by bit until I’m completely full. I moan into his mouth. The sensation is both familiar and new.
“You okay?” His voice is low, husky.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I keep my eyes closed, but I can’t help the smile on my face. A part of me wants to revert to being a shy teenager, but another bigger part of me wants to scratch at his back and bite his shoulders, wants—needs this to be ravenous and intense and shattering. I open my eyes and hide nothing. Allow Elliott to see the raw, savage need in me. I want to be wild and wanton .
He grunts and pulses inside me. My eyes nearly roll back with pleasure. I gasp. “Don’t stop. Don’t be gentle. I need you.” I need you to fuck me into oblivion. I need you to destroy the grief and guilt and sadness. Fuck me until I can’t think anymore. I don’t say any of that. He understands me anyway.
He moves with slow and long strokes at first, allowing me to adjust to his size and my body to get used to being pleasured this way again. My nails dig into his shoulder blades and I push my hips up into him. He picks up speed and I match him. We move together like synchronized dancers, push and pull, our bodies in perfect harmony. The sounds of our rapid breaths and moans fill the room. That long-forgotten pressure starts to build in my lower belly, heat expanding and building, and the need for more, just a little more, please more, takes over me, making my movements erratic, breaking the tempo Elliott set, searching, looking, reaching for release. I moan in frustration. I’m so close, on the edge. Elliott shifts and it does the trick. I explode into a million pieces. The oblivion I so eagerly wished for comes for me and wipes me out. I’ve fallen into a black hole. My body contorts and convulses, my back arches, my thighs press against his, and he keeps moving, extracting and giving at the same time. One wave rolls into another and another, and I’m on the verge of passing out for lack of oxygen. Elliott grunts with his own release, and it’s nearly as long as mine. After a millennium, my body relaxes, settling back onto the bed. Elliott drops to my side. Neither of us speaks. We’re working hard at breathing. His hand finds mine, and he laces his fingers with mine. Brings it to his lips and kisses it. Then nests both of our hands on his chest. And we stay like that as our breaths slow and our bodies cool.