81. Now
EIGHTY-ONE
now
Ella catches on as soon as we step into the St. Regis’s elevator, and the attendant knows my name.
Her luminous blue eyes slant a look at me. “Grayson. You didn’t.”
I can’t stop smiling at her like an idiot. “It was a gesture of wild optimism,” I quip. “Which isn’t my usual style, I know…”
But the prospect of a whole, wide-open future with Ella makes me feel punch-drunk. As soon as I left Dr. Laura’s office—imbued with the knowledge that we can make our relationship work as long as we do—I called and booked the suite .
Hard work, therapy, making amends. None of that scares me.
The thought of making my grand romantic gesture and then taking her home to my sterile penthouse—where she last fled in terror—or her blood-splattered apartment did , though. I want us to spend time together in an untainted space, where we can catch our breath and focus on our horizons.
I still have my shoebox tucked under my arm. The one with all of the bits and pieces of Ellie I kept for years. Including the engagement ring.
Some voice in my head stops me every time I want to reach for it, hissing that it’s too soon. We need the one thing we’ve missed out on for all these years—time.
We have that now. All the time we want.
“Here you are, Mr. Stryker, Miss…” The attendant clears his throat.
“Callahan,” I say pointedly. I want everyone in the hotel to treat Ella with the same deference they show me. “Please inform the staff we aren’t to be disturbed, as a rule. If we have any requirements, I will call down personally.”
He nods. “Of course.”
I lead Ella out into the hallway. Her glances take on a curious, skittish quality. “You’re different,” she whispers, smiling a little. “More… in control. I’ve noticed it all week.”
I can’t deny that. I’ve gotten less patient and more demanding. When I started working as Stryker what our relationship would look like. Back then, I didn’t have the power to protect her this way, the ability to shape our world.
She fell in love with me anyway. She adored me, for me —not my potential. Ella loved the person beneath all of the potential wealth and influence and fame.
But now, I have all of those things. Directly. They aren’t just a mantle I borrow from my parents. They’re mine. Me. And it seems to turn her on.
The way she softens and surrenders, trusting me so completely without a single doubt, makes my blood roar. I want to make her mine . She wants to let me. And I will take care of what is mine .
“We have a lot to figure out,” she breathes, reading my mind. “This is all so…”
My hands resume their roaming, sketching over every part of her, longing to relearn each precious piece. “Ellie, if I’m making you nervous, I can?—”
Her mouth collides with mine, silencing me. Once again, it’s clear that it’s been a long time, for her. She seems eager but hesitant, like she isn’t sure she remembers how to do it.
Tamping down a rush of shame—because I never really gave myself a chance to fall out of practice—I decide to focus on my gratitude. She waited for me. That notion still fills me with amazement and appreciation.
And raw, scorching hunger.
I want to make up for all the pleasure she denied herself. Give it all back to her tenfold.
Cupping her sweet face in my hands, I tilt her head and seal my lips over hers the way she likes, licking into her mouth slowly.
Ella moans and presses her breasts into my chest. She holds fast to my jacket, her desperate clutches betraying her urgency.
I break away, already a little short of breath. “Do you need me, baby?” I murmur, brushing my lips over hers. “I know I have a lot of time to make up for…”
Her fingers tighten while worry splits her expression. “I—I don’t know. I was alone for so long… And then Thursday and Friday are such a blur… Honestly, it feels like I have no idea what I’m doing or what I want. I thought I’d completely lost touch with… all of this.”
Her sexuality, she means. The thought of such lush, glorious beauty wilting on the vine sends a pang to my heart.
“I’ll find it,” I vow, kissing her again.
She melts and comes to life simultaneously. Letting me support her weight while arching into every caress and every kiss. She pushes my suit jacke t to the floor, unties my tie, and unbuttons my shirt. Her hands touch my bare skin with reverence, lovingly gliding up the ripples of my abdomen, turning my cock to stone.
With a reluctant grumble in my throat, I unseal my lips from hers. “We should take this slow,” I pant quietly. “I want this to be right.”
Her fingers move nimbly over the back of my neck, massaging knots from the corded muscles. God, how I missed her touches. Always so giving and guileless.
“Gray,” she says, an adoring smirk playing at her lips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you think too much.”
A laugh stutters out of me. She has a point.
Taking her out on our first proper date. Telling her I loved her. My thwarted proposal. All of it could have happened much sooner and much easier if I had gone with my gut. I have a tendency to over-think where she’s concerned because every decision feels monumentally important to me.
Her sapphire eyes glow up at me, luminous and full of love. “I want you to do exactly what you want to me,” she murmurs, “without thinking about it.”
White hot desire bolts down my back. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for,” I bite back.
Her hands slip down my abs, over my waistband, and finally meet the throbbing erection begging for her touch. “Please,” she breathes, licking her lips. “Make me yours again.”