Chapter Thirty-Three
DREW
Ileaned against our office doorway and watched Ellie type, heel bouncing, lip caught between her teeth like she had a secret she wasn’t going to tell.
I loved the stolen seconds where I could simply … look at her. Where wanting her and loving her felt uncomplicated.
She eventually noticed me, rewarding me with a slow smile and a small tilt of her head. “Are you going to stand there and lurk?” she asked, “Or hand me my nectar of the gods?”
I laughed when she did the ‘gimme’ motion with her hand. I crossed the room and set her coffee in it. “I was appreciating the view.”
Color warmed her cheeks, and—unlike two weeks ago—she didn’t duck her head. “Dork,” she murmured. “A handsome, sweet, thoughtful dork,” she amended, before taking a restorative sip.
I kissed the top of her head. “Thanks.”
She pointed to the folder in my hand. “How’d it go?”
“He’s in,” I said, trying and failing to smother the grin.
She launched up and wrapped her arms around me, her laughter ringing bright and loud. “Tell me everything.”
We sat on the couch. I spread my sketches across the table—new work laid out beside archival designs. The paper smelled like graphite and a little bit of hope.
“I think Dad and the design lead enjoyed watching me sweat,” I said. “But they loved the pitch—antique foundation, modern lines. We’ll pilot a few pieces for spring. Test the reception.”
Ellie tucked herself against me, thigh to thigh, shoulder fitting under my arm as if she’d been created for that exact space.
“Of course they liked it. Your designs are brilliant and you made history feel current. That’s your sweet spot.
” Her confidence in my sketches had pushed me to schedule a formal meeting.
I pointed to a ring. “We decided to give each piece a family name.” I pointed at a particular ring. “This one’s called ‘Ellie.’ We all agreed.”
Her fingers tightened on my sleeve. “You can’t—”
“I can,” I said softly. “You’re the reason any of this is happening.”
Her eyes glossed over with unshed tears as she kissed my cheek. “Then we’re going to launch it right. I can picture the rollout now. Own your piece of Rhode Island history.”
I let myself look at her—really look. It had been three days since we’d seen her family.
Three days of quiet. She’d been writing in the mornings before and after work, I sketched at night, and between those bookends we’d learned each other’s rhythms and quirks—the way she liked her coffee, the types of pencils I liked best to draw with, the angle of her desk lamp that made her squint.
She knew I’d forget to drink enough water during the day and I knew she’d forget to eat.
Small domesticities that shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow meant everything. Tiny pieces of our new life together.
“I’ll need to stay closer to home to get the design aspect up and running,” I said. “And the expansion still has to be tied up by spring.” I heard how it sounded—like a man promising the universe and then offering just a few stars. “I’ll have to pull in longer hours for a few months.”
Her hand slid from my bicep to the middle of my chest. “You already work a ton.”
“It’ll slow down after,” I said, too quickly, because I wanted it to be true.
She watched me, the new way she had, the one that saw through what I wasn’t saying. And she wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “You don’t have to prove yourself by throwing every second into both projects or by disappearing.”
“It isn’t disappearing,” I responded, hearing the slight defensive note in my tone. “It’s my purpose. Like writing is for you.” I swallowed. “And if—when—you go back home, I’ll want to fill the time that I’ll be missing you.”
Ellie’s expression softened, as she cupped my jaw. Her fingers dug into my beard. “Then we build a life that fits both of us. We don’t file off the edges. We learn how we fit together.”
I turned my face to kiss the center of her palm.
Wanting her hit fast and hard—the kind that had weight and gratitude and a little panic threaded through it. If we only had through this weekend, I wanted each day to count.
She must have felt the shift. “I know I said we should be cautious about PDA at work,” she whispered, her smile turning wicked, “but lunch break is technically not public.”
I was on my feet before she finished her sentence, locking the door out of muscle memory alone.
“And we had talked about acting out that scene I’d read to you last night. So maybe …”
I tugged at my tie.
“What note should I put on your calendar so we’re not disturbed?” she asked.
“Put busy. We’re less likely to be interrupted.”
Her eyes darkened. “Less likely?”
I wasn’t about to tell her that if we had the door closed no one would interrupt us. The office knew I closed it when I was in the zone to show I didn’t want to be disturbed. I’d never mentioned it to Ellie because it just hadn’t come up. Now I was glad to have that little secret.
I pointed at her laptop. “Calendar.”
She bit her lip and shot a quick glance at the door. “Let’s live dangerously.”
God, I loved her. I could finally admit that to myself.
And I loved that she shared her writing with me. I had a very healthy appreciation for the fact she was writing a workplace romance and liked to make sure her scenes were authentic.
We both made our way to my desk and glanced at my laptop, and the neat stack of notes beside it. In her latest scene, the hero swept everything to the floor in a moment of passion. We stared at the electronics and burst out laughing.
I moved the laptop and papers carefully to a nearby chair. “Pretend I was reckless.”
She grinned. “I don’t have to pretend. You’re already giving me the reckless parts—the ones that matter.”
We both looked at the small notebook and pen left on the otherwise clean surface.
I slightly improvised the line of her hero.
“I need you.” Then I swept my arm across the desk sending the office supplies flying.
Although, instead of the dramatic scene I imagined, the notepad plopped to the floor and the pen rolled a few times before stopping.
Very anticlimactic.
She slid her hands up to rest on my chest and laid her forehead between her flattened palms. Her shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter. “Well, that was … something.”
I chuckled along with her. “I might not have the sexy moves of your hero—”
Ellie’s eyes, full of mirth, met mine. She leaned in, her fingers grazing my jaw, sending a spark through me.
“No,” she said, her voice low and sultry, “you’re sexier because you’re real.
” She traced the edge of my bottom lip with her thumb.
“You’re fun …” Her lips brushed mine, but didn’t fully kiss me.
“... and being with you is easier than breathing.”
I cupped her waist, drawing her closer, our bodies flush.
“I love that we can laugh and it doesn’t ruin the mood. That it’s about the moment and what we’re going to share. Not just our bodies coming together for a physical release,” she added.
“I couldn’t agree more.” I kissed her forehead wanting to take my time and appreciate this moment.
She tugged at my tie. “Now where were we?”
“Let’s see.” My gaze skimmed down over her sexy curves. “The hero rips off her blouse, sending buttons flying, to feast on her breasts.”
She looked down at the brown sweater she wore. No buttons in sight. “We might need to improvise.”
“I’m good at improvising.” I slid my palms up under the knitted fabric, taking special care to go slow, to lightly caress her skin as I revealed each soft inch.
Her fingertips gripped the edge of the desk as I placed a kiss on her rounded stomach.
“I love every part of you,” I murmured, my breath ghosting against her skin.
Ellie shivered.
My tongue and lips traced a path up over silvery stretch marks to just under her bra. After placing a gentle kiss to the swell of her belly I lifted her sweater up and over her head.
The fabric fell from my fingertips and dropped to the floor as I took in the stunning sight before me. “Fuck,” I whispered on a harsh breath. “You know what lace does to me.”
She smirked. “What? This old thing?” Her hand traced up the sides of her red lace covered breasts, and lightly caressed and circled the mounds of pale skin spilling out of the top.
I groaned, the sight unraveling me.
“Quiet,” she warned. Her eyes sparkling with a mixture of lust and humor.
My dick jumped as I watched her, pressing against the seam of my pants wanting to be inside of her.
“What are you waiting for, handsome?” She glanced at the closed door and then the windows with the blinds wide open, biting her lip.
I decided to slow things down even further, torture her, make it so her desire consumed her. A smile tipped the corners of my lips as I bent over and slid one of her shoes off, kissing the inside of her ankle and up her calf as I pushed the hem of her wide-legged jeans higher.
Then I slipped off her other shoe and gave the other leg the same treatment.
Now it was her turn to groan.
“I thought we needed to be quiet,” I teased.
Ellie’s fingers slid through my hair before giving a hard yank that drew my gaze up to meet hers. Her eyes glittered with passion, and likely the taboo thought we might get caught. “More. Now.”
I stood and grinned. “Undo the button of my slacks,” I commanded, loving how her ample hips wiggled in anticipation. I was ready to speed this up too. We could do slow later. I kicked off my shoes. “Then unzip them.”
She did as I asked. “What next?”
“Remove my pants and boxers.” She shoved them down to the floor.
Her shoulders relaxed. “I love when you tell me what to do.” Her eyes landed on the tip of my cock, precum already leaking. Her tongue darted out, swiping across her lips. And as much as I wanted to feel her mouth on me, her lips sliding up and down my shaft, I wanted to come inside her more.