66. Then
SIXTY-SIX
then
I found it incredibly endearing that Ella still got nervous about garnering my parents’ approval.
While Marco sped across Long Island, she sat pressed against my side, looping yarn around her knitting needles at warp speed while her sapphire gaze peered out the Mercedes’ window.
Dressed in a simple traveling outfit of gray leggings and her NYU hoodie, she looked beautiful but tired. The care she took with her hair and makeup couldn’t hide the remnants of the nightmare that woke her up sometime before dawn. I spent thirty minutes singing her back to sleep while she cried in my arms. By the time I woke up, I fo und her anxiously cleaning my already spotless apartment.
I knew her dreams usually resurfaced when she felt especially nervous. The tidying and speed-knitting were also telling.
Maybe when we get there, I’ll take her straight into the jetted tub. Then, we can take a nap …
Cupping my hand around her chin, I turned to press a kiss against her brow. “This trip will be great.”
A weak smile played on her lips. “I think so, too. I’m sorry we have to leave on Christmas Day, though.”
She kept apologizing. I grunted, annoyed. “You have to stop feeling bad. You have a family, too. I’m looking forward to meeting them. Though, I’m not sure sleeping on the couch will be my favorite.”
Instead of gracing me with her warm little laugh, Ellie’s frown deepened. Her hands didn’t even pause. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
I kissed her again. “I’m joking, Ellie.”
It wasn’t really the couch that bothered me, anyway—it was the thought of spending three nights without her curled up next to me. Although, my dick hardened every time I imagined sneaking into her bedroom.
We’ll have to be very quiet…
Volume wouldn’t be an issue at our Hamptons house. Mom prepared the largest of all the guest suites for us, conveniently located in a wing opposite theirs. Classy to the last, neither of my parents mentioned the need for privacy. Theirs or ours.
I wasn’t sure where they planned to stick my uncle and my cousin, though.
My father insisted that the holiday posed a perfect opportunity for all of us to reconnect. He believed we needed them to make our revised succession plan work. And I decided to go along with it, if only because—between Ellie and designing the new Stryker I know your parents are insanely wealthy, and this house is basically a dream-come-true… but there’s just something so relatable about a mom over-decorating to an embarrassing degree.”
I laughed, then grimaced. “There really is, isn’t there?”
I couldn’t tell if she was truly acclimating to the way my family lived or just playing it cool, but she didn’t turn white or chew on her lip the whole way through the house tour. She even met the main living room’s three-story stone fireplace and two-story Christmas tree with a calm smile.
But I did catch her eyes widening a bit when she caught sight of all the gifts. There had to be at least fifty, all wrapped perfectly and arranged in artful p iles. On top of one heap toward the back, I spied the small, red-wrapped box I specifically asked my mother to place on top of Ellie’s stack.
While I tamped down a bracing bolt of exhilaration, Ella fingered the nearest ornament on the tree. Her sapphire eyes glinted at me. “So… where are your parents?”
I checked my watch.
3:12 . Plenty of time .
I stepped up against her softly curved frame, sliding my hands over her hips. “They’re meeting us for dinner in a few hours at Nick the color of her coppery nipples, furled tight while her breasts bounced in front of my face.
Her fingers tangled in the hair at the back of my neck, pulling hard. My balls drew up while tingles streaked across my spine. A broken groan tore out of me. “Yes, Ella . Fuck. You make me come so hard.”
She ground down with renewed dedication, moving her hips in a delicious circle that completely undid me. Three more swivels sent me sailing over the edge. I pressed my cheek into her chest, clutching her hips onto mine, spurting into her with a ragged cry.
Ellie hugged me close, caressing my back while we caught our breath. Holding on tightly, I sank into her, relishing her sweet, guileless touch. Always giving, even when I thought she couldn’t possibly have any more love for me.
After a moment, she straightened and looked around as if realizing where we were. When her gaze snagged on the view, she gave an impish smirk. “Huh. You’d think I would have noticed that before.”
The swooping, sinking sensation swelled. Now that I knew it was love, I couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize it the very first time I felt it, back on the first morning we ever woke up together.
Grinning like a fool, I tucked her loose hair behind her ear and guided her head down to the crook of my shoulder. She folded herself against m y chest, letting my arms envelop her. Contentment settled over me. While she snuggled closer, a sound drew my eyes across the room.
Oh. Fuck .
I realized, way too late, that I didn’t check to make sure the double doors had closed all the way after we barreled into our suite. One of them hung ajar, revealing a strip of the hallway and what looked like a shadow.
Shit .
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see into the unlit stretch.
Nothing. Thank God.
You have to be smarter than this , I told myself. You’re going to be running a company. A housekeeper or landscaper could take a video or a photo of you. Or Ellie, God forbid. They could extort you. Or publish it for clout .
A prickle of unease rose the hairs on the back of my neck. My hold on Ella tightened protectively, covering as much of her bare body as I could.
“Let’s take a bath,” I suggested gruffly, wanting to get her out of sight. “The tub has jets, and I think there’s a wine fridge in there, too.”
Adoring blue eyes beamed at me as she framed my face with her palms. “And, knowing you, there’s a bottle of Dom in there for me?”
Just like that, she chased my dread away.
I smiled back and clutched her closer, surging to my feet. “Very possible.”
Ella glowed all through our bottle of Dom and dinner with my parents.
Her enthusiasm kept everyone in good spirits. She giggled over all my parents’ silly Christmas stories from my childhood and asked them about their own holiday traditions growing up.
I kept my hands on her at all times, unable to resist the allure of her exposed neck and shoulders under her slouchy red sweater. My fingers strummed against her nape as my father summoned the server for the check. She cast a sideways glance at me, and I grinned, unabashed.
Once he handed off his black card, Dad grunted and extracted his cell phone. “Damn,” he grumbled, scowling. “Ted texted. Daniel’s flights were delayed. Nothing got out of Dublin today. Some sort of storm. Now their whole system is backlogged. Ted wants to know if he should come out alone or wait for Dan.”
My mother’s brows folded. “When will Danny get here?”
“Not until Tuesday,” Dad huffed. “Apparently.”
The day before Christmas Eve. Flying commercial would be hell.
I recalled our conversation about gratitude on the car ride over and forced down a begrudging flare of irritation, rubbing my hand over my neck. “Tell Ted to come tomorrow. And tell Daniel there’s a Stryker it goes by too fast. Believe me.”