Chapter 14 #2
“Sounds great. Goodnight, Remy.” I watch him walk down the hall, admiring the way his jeans hug his ass, then snap myself out of my stare and clean up the kitchen, even though I know Henley will get mad at me for it.
As I scrub the pot I cooked the soup in, the disappointment I’ve been shoving down for the past few days makes itself known again.
Tonight felt like we were slipping right back into our routine, boss and employee, father and nanny, friends for lack of a better term. So I guess he’s just going to pretend like the kiss didn’t happen, which is fine. It’s probably better this way. Less messy, right?
When I’m finished, I grab my notebook and take a seat back on the couch, tucking my legs up underneath me and opening it back up to the page with the lyrics I was working on earlier.
Your eyes say more than your mouth
Your touch says more than your eyes
And each time you look at me
All I can think about is our inevitable goodbye.
A few more words come to me, so I add them to the page.
But what if this didn’t have an end?
What if you decided to let me in?
I know you can be that man
This could be where we begin.
Setting my notebook to the side, I race to my room and grab my guitar so I can try to find a melody to go with the words.
The last thing I should be doing is writing a song about my feelings for my boss, but I strum a few chords until I find one that I like and attempt to sing the words softly so as not to disturb Remy’s bedtime routine.
I know that you’re scared
Because I’m scared too.
You have the power to destroy me
And I can do the same to you.
But we can be scared together
Just put your hand in mine.
Or are these feelings fleeting
Because we’re on borrowed time?
I’m so lost in the melody and words that I don’t realize how much time has passed until Henley is standing right next to me, fresh from the shower, his eyebrows pinched together. “You’re working on a song,” he observes.
I have to crane my neck back to look up at him. “I am.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you do that since you moved in.”
I set my guitar to the side and close my notebook, resting it on my lap as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “That’s because I haven’t. I’ve been playing music for Remy, but I haven’t been able to write since I left LA.”
“Why did you?” he asks, resting his head in his hand propped up on the back of the couch.
“Why did I what?”
“Leave Los Angeles,” he clarifies.
Avoiding his gaze, I say, “I told you. I’m trying to figure out if a career in music is what I really want.”
“No, I think there’s more to it than that.”
My head snaps to him again. “What makes you say that?”
“Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to write.”
“Well, struggling with this decision is probably part of it.”
“But I think there’s another reason too, the one that’s tied to your panic attack.
” My throat grows tight and tension builds in my shoulders.
“Dilynne mentioned it when she was worried that you hadn’t texted her back.
And it wasn’t before you performed, it was after, correct?
” I don’t say anything because my pulse is fluttering rapidly in my neck, so he takes it as permission to keep pushing.
“So it wasn’t performance anxiety. Something else triggered it. ”
Diverting my gaze, I grate out, “I really don’t want to talk about it, Henley.”
“Yeah, well there’s a lot of shit that I don’t like talking about either, but I’m realizing how much it’s affecting me.”
I turn back to face him, shaking my head.
“Wow. That’s great. I’m happy for you. But I don’t think this conversation is appropriate between a boss and his employee.
” Standing from the couch, I attempt to walk away, but Henley reaches out and gently grasps my arm, stopping me.
His touch singes my skin and my breathing picks up.
“There are a lot of things that are happening between us that aren’t appropriate, El.
” The gravel of his voice travels down my spine as he slowly stands, putting his chest against my back and still holding my arm in his hand as his thumb passes back and forth over my skin.
“Like me kissing you the other night. That was highly inappropriate, don’t you think?
” His breath skates across my neck, making a shiver run across my skin and hope surges through me.
Oh my God, he’s bringing up our kiss.
The only thing I can focus on is taking in oxygen because the rest of my body feels paralyzed. But he’s pissed me off now, which means sassy Elodie is ready to showcase her skills.
“So, we’re gonna talk about that finally?” I quip.
“You didn’t bring it up either,” he fires back.
“Well, you’re not the easiest man to talk to. The king of avoidance, some might say.”
His hand moves up my arm and onto my shoulder as he toys with the hem of my tank top.
“You’re right. And that’s exactly why I ran away from you that night, Elodie.
” He drags his nose up my neck. My eyes close instantly, savoring every second of his touch.
God, it feels so good to be touched by someone that I want to touch me—not a man who thinks I owe him my body.
“The night I went out with Warren,” he starts, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “I saw you singing to Remy and that’s why I left so suddenly. I couldn’t handle how it made me feel, so I ran.”
“Henley,” I say on a gasp. “I thought…”
“I know what you thought.” His teeth nip my earlobe and my bottom lip trembles.
“You told me so when you yelled at me the next morning. But here’s the thing, Elodie.
My actions have never been about my reluctance to accept my daughter in my life.
Truth be told, becoming Remy’s father was something I barely fought.
You are what’s made me want to run, sweetheart. ”
His words.
I’m finally getting words from this man and they’re making so many puzzle pieces start to snap into place. So I give him mine in return.
“I was jealous,” I say, looping my arm around his neck, holding him to me as he continues to toy with my ear and moves his lips back to my neck. “I hated the idea of you going out and kissing or touching another woman, especially after you told me that’s how you chase adrenaline now.”
“Jesus, El. Why didn’t you say so?”
“It’s not easy to be open with you, Henley. And then you kissed me breathless, and just…never said another word.”
“Then let me be clear when I say this.” He inhales deeply and then his voice vibrates across my skin as he continues. “You don’t need to be jealous of anyone else…because the only woman I’m interested in—is you.”
“Finally, some honesty from you,” I whisper while digging my nails into his hair and feeling my pulse rise yet again.
I’m standing here in this man’s arms and every nerve on my body is awake. Part of me wonders if I’m dreaming, but then I feel him press his erection into my back and I know without a doubt that this is real.
Dear lord, I want to feel all of him.
His voice is a mix between a groan and a growl. “God it makes me fucking hard when you call me on my shit.”
I turn to face him. “See? It’s a good thing I know how to use my words.”
He presses his cock into my stomach, smirking as he says, “Oh, you certainly have a way with words, Elodie Olsen, and I’m beginning to think I don’t just want your voice in my life, I need it.
” I’m temporarily awestruck because I think that’s one of the most beautiful things a man has ever said to me in one of the most erotic moments of my life.
“You drive me fucking mad, El. You make me feel shit I’ve never had to put a name to.
I told you that you wouldn’t want to know what’s going through my head because all I can think about is kissing you again, tasting you in other places than your mouth, and what those pretty little lips would look like wrapped around my cock before you gagged on it. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Who knew that dirty talk was how I would get the truth out of you?”
His laughter vibrates against my skin. “Fuck.” His lips press against my temple. “But you deserve better than a fast and hard fuck. You deserve to be worshipped, and for the first time in my life, I want to take my time.”
Those words douse the lust rushing through me, replacing it with admiration. I wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”
His forehead touches mine, our noses brushing. I almost make a joke about how far he has to bend down to do that, but I refrain when I can hear the emotional pain lacing his words. “Just tell me that I’m not the only one who wanted that kiss.”
“You’re not,” I whisper immediately.
“Thank fuck.” When he lowers his head again, his lips brush mine in a kiss that is much sweeter than our first one, and Henley stays true to his word—he takes his time.
As he teases me with his mouth, I try to remember the last time I was ever kissed like this, and the answer comes to me quickly—never.
I’ve never been kissed the way Henley kisses me, and that makes me terrified that I might never experience it again.
“So, what happens now?” I ask breathlessly when we part.
“Now, you tell me the truth about LA.”
I lean back as my eyebrows pull together, Henley standing to his full height. “Was all of that physical manipulation just now?”
“No. It’s me asking you to talk first so that it might be easier for me to talk next.”
Ugh, this frustratingly beautiful, scarred man.
I roll my eyes, but inside I think this man has officially made me melt. “Okay.”
He leads me to the couch, pulling me close to him so I’m practically sitting in his lap. “What on earth happened that made you have a panic attack when you were with my sister?”
My eyes find my hands in my lap, twiddling my fingers as I prepare to tell Henley the same story I told the girls. “I guess I just realized how young and na?ve I was about what it takes to make your dreams come true.”