Chapter 23 Regret
Regret.
El’s driveway was ice-cold under my feet, the concrete biting at my skin with every step.
The Uber he’d sent had arrived earlier than expected, so I’d just grabbed my essentials and shoved them into my bag, deciding to finish getting dressed at his place. This included the six-inch pumps I’d need help getting into.
Besides having to rush, I was glad to be picked up early. El had a habit of getting so sucked into his work that he lost all sense of time, which meant he was probably still at his desk, hunched over whatever project had his full attention tonight.
I punched in the code for his door and let myself in.
“El? Don’t tell me you’re still at that damn desk!” I yelled out.
His shoes were still by the door. His jacket, too. I sighed, dropping my bag next to them before heading upstairs. I’d never been inside his office before. He always claimed it was full of spoilers for his comic, but now that it was out, I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t pop in.
“Elliot Greene, I swear, if you haven’t moved from that seat…” I pushed open the door only to find it empty.
Well. Not empty.
The room was packed, lined from floor to ceiling with hundreds of drawings.
Of me.
I blinked, stepping further inside. My stomach did something weird, something tight and warm.
Sketches of me at work, hair pinned back, deep in concentration. Me in the kitchen, licking something off my thumb. Me at Lizzie’s coffee shop, laughing mid-conversation.
Me in his bed.
Most were in his usual cartoonish style, with bold lines and exaggerated expressions, but some were real. Real enough that I could almost feel myself through his eyes. I could feel the way he must’ve studied me.
I swallowed. My pulse tripped over itself as I reached for one of the pages on his desk, my own face staring back at me, drawn with more detail than I’d ever seen in his work before.
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or completely freaked out.
“Wow.”
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Also on the desk sat his huge sketchbook, open as if waiting for me. Hesitantly, I reached for it, flipping through the pages. It started with rough drafts of characters from his comic, but as I turned the pages, the focus shifted. Slowly and subtly, they became more intimate.
More me.
The sketches were detailed, but the notes scrawled beside them were what made my throat go dry. I swallowed hard, sinking into his chair as I turned another page.
Ellie’s hair is darker than this. Less frizzy, too. Next to it, a sketch of me with my natural hair, loose and covering half my face.
Softest lips in the world. A simple sketch of my lips, shaded carefully, almost reverently.
Hands of a professional. Needs to stop biting those fingernails, though. My hands, holding my trimming scissors, captured in delicate, precise lines.
“Ellie, what are you doing up here?”
I jumped, slamming the book shut like I’d been caught reading his diary.
El stood in the doorway, dressed in slacks but no shirt. His pod had shifted to the right side of his lower abdomen instead of his usually preferred left, and his bare chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
“I—I was looking for you,” I stammered. “I called out when I got here, but you didn’t answer, so I figured you were up here working.”
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I was in the shower. Didn’t hear you. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” I said quickly, setting the sketchbook down. “I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to snoop through your things. I’m sorry.”
His lips twitched. “It isn’t snooping. You’re welcome to look through it as much as you like.”
I hesitated, glancing around the room again. “You draw me a lot.”
El held my gaze. “I said it before, Ellie. You are my inspiration.”
We looked at each other.
His gaze held mine. Like he wanted to say a dozen things but knew I wasn’t ready to hear even one.
My throat tightened.
“I’m gonna wait downstairs,” I said softly, already walking toward the door.
“Elliot—” he started as I past him.
I paused, one hand gripping the door frame like it might steady me. “What?”
He shook his head, a small smile ghosting his lips.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “I’ll be down in a second.”
?
The club pulsed with life, and the bass was heavy enough to feel in my bones.
Neon lights flashed in streaks of red and blue, casting quick shadows over the packed dance floor.
The private section I had reserved for us had black leather couches, a table littered with my half-empty glasses, and just enough distance from the chaos to breathe.
I requested somewhere in the back because while El liked the club, he liked his privacy more. He was exactly where I’d left him, lounging back, one arm draped over the couch, the same drink in hand. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he was watching me.
Always fucking watching.
Me, though? I was buzzed. Tipsy, loose, moving in place to the music, arms up, hips swaying. This section alone was a thousand, and if his ass wasn’t going to enjoy it fully, I sure as hell was.
El smirked behind the rim of his glass. “Having fun?”
I spun, let my head tilt back, eyes half-lidded. “Yes, Elliot. We are at a club. Isn’t that the whole point?”
He smiled and sipped his drink.
Then I looked at him, really looked at him.
The man was undeniably handsome. That was never a suggestion; it was always a fact.
The idea of him being the source of double takes and women offering up their numbers when we went out didn’t surprise me.
What did surprise me was that now, I was being affected.
I was the one blushing when he looked my way and obsessing over whether he thought I looked pretty.
Of course, he did. He turned his home office into his own personal exhibit of Elliot Sawyer.
It was a good feeling to know a man so highly sought after found you attractive.
Not just physically but also on a deeper level. Beyond just my way of thinking or my achievements. He saw me, and from the first moment we locked eyes, he knew he had to have me.
He looked for me. When I told him I wasn’t ready for anything, he waited for me. I’ll admit, it took me a while to see him, but when I did, a whole new world opened up.
Our connection exceeded even our own understanding. Sometimes, it felt like we knew what the other was thinking before it could be put into words. Like now, the look in his eyes told me the only thing on his mind was his hands on my body. So, I asked.
“You wanna dance with me?”
He blinked rapidly, shocked by my question as I had never offered before.
“What’s the catch?” his eyebrow cocked.
I shrugged. “No catch.”
He eyed me suspiciously, visibly weighing his options. His eyes scoured over me, landing on my exposed lower thighs. I guess he reached his decision after doing mental gymnastics and resting his glass on the table.
“Come here then,” he commanded with a look of amusement in his eyes. He was testing me. Seeing if I was serious about being that intimate with him.
Taking on the challenge, I stiffened my stance and advanced with every bit of my confidence on display. He sat up, giving me his full focus. When we locked eyes, the room felt like it had stood still.
I had his full attention.
And, of course, that’s when it happened.
The floor beneath me shifted—or maybe my balance failed after so many drinks—but suddenly, my heel slid out from under me, and before I could catch myself, I was falling.
Straight into El’s lap.
A sharp inhale escaped, and strong hands caught me, one gripping my waist, the other firm on my thigh. The heat of his skin seeped into mine. His chest was solid beneath my palms as I grabbed onto his shirt for balance.
I looked up. His gaze flickered down.
“Well.” His voice was low, teasing. “Didn’t know that was part of the seduction.”
I swallowed as my cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Shut up. That was an accident.”
His fingers flexed against my waist, just enough to make my stomach tighten. I expected him to laugh but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “It’s those heels. I’m surprised you didn’t twist an ankle.”
I sat back, steadying myself on his lap before speaking.
“That or the drinks,” I mumbled.
That made him chuckle, and the rough vibrations shook me slightly. Then, we locked eyes again, and the vibrations stopped. The club kept moving around us, music pounding and lights flashing. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the music, or the people, or the drinks I’d had.
Just him.
And the fact that I should’ve moved.
I should’ve laughed it off. Said something funny and teasing—made it nothing.
But I didn’t.
His grip stayed firm, fingers pressing into my waist like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull me closer. My heart was pounding, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the fall or from the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly over my hip.
I licked my lips, and El’s gaze dropped to watch.
Shit.
His grip tightened like he was steadying himself. “Ellie…”
The way he said my name sent a shiver through me. Rough, almost hesitant. Like he was giving me a second chance to move, to stop this from happening.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned in, slowly, giving him the same chance to back away.
But he didn’t.
And then his mouth was on mine.
His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me closer until I wasn’t just accidentally in his lap—I was settled there. He wanted me there, with my body flush against his.
His lips parted, deepening the kiss as my hands slid up his chest.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew we were in public. I knew we were probably being watched.
But right then? I didn’t care.
The kiss didn’t break so much as shift.
One second, it was slow like we were still testing this. The next, El’s grip tightened, pulling me against him like he needed me there.