Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
ALLY
Two weeks later.
Drew had to fly home for work, but I decided to stay in England to watch the rest of Wimbledon.
Sarah lost in the semi-finals, to an up and coming Brit who went on to win the tournament.
It was a painfully close match, but she took the disappointment pretty well.
She’s already looking ahead to the US Open, and she’s back in the States training hard.
And I’m back in Somerset with Drew. He’s working late tonight, but the sound of a key in the lock tells me he’s finally home.
“Hey, Ally,” he says when he comes through the door. He’s changed out of his scrubs into a black knit shirt and jeans, and he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow.
He looks good enough to eat.
I walk over and greet him with a kiss on the cheek. “Long day, huh?”
“Yep,” he says with a tired smile. “How are you?”
“Actually,” I tell him, “I’m feeling a little feverish.”
His forehead creases with concern. “There’s Tylenol in the bathroom cupboard,” he says. “Do you think it’s the flu or something?”
“Not the flu, no,” I say. “And I don’t think Tylenol would help. You might have to examine me, Dr. Malone. In the bedroom.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, and his expression turns hungry. “Is that right? You think you need to be examined, Ally?”
“I think so. Unless you’re too tired—”
“No,” he interrupts. “I’m not too tired to take care of you.”
He follows me to his bedroom—our bedroom now, actually. I’ve been sleeping here ever since I came home from England last week. Somehow, most of my clothes were already in his closet, so that was convenient.
“Sit on the bed for me, please, Ally. You said you felt feverish?” Drew’s voice is rough and deep, and liquid desire pools in my belly.
“Yes.”
“We should take this off, then,” he says, slipping a hand under my shirt.
I obediently lift my arms so he can pull my shirt over my head. He smells so good, clean male sweat and woodsy soap.
“You do feel very hot,” he agrees, cupping my breasts through my bra. “This needs to come off too.”
He unclasps my bra and tosses it to the side, then pauses to stare at my breasts. Even though I’m naked from the waist up, I feel a lot hotter than I did five minutes ago.
His hands find my breasts again, and he takes his time with them, stroking and playing with my nipples.
“Well, your breasts seem pretty perfect, so we’ll have to look somewhere else,” he finally says. “Any other symptoms? Besides the fever?”
“I have an ache. And . . . I’m wet.”
Drew’s breath hitches. “You’re wet,” he repeats roughly. “When did this start?”
“When you walked in the door.”
“Hmm.” He likes that, I can tell. “Lie down for me, please.”
I swing my legs onto the bed and lie on my back.
“Where do you ache, Ally?” he asks, running a hand lightly over the fly of my jeans. “Here?”
“Yeah,” I say hoarsely.
He unbuttons my fly, and his big fingers start to tease over my panties. He deliberately avoids my clit, staying just a little too high. I start to squirm, trying to get his fingers where I need them.
“Try to stay still, please, so I can examine you properly.”
“I can’t,” I mutter, and he likes that a lot too. “Drew—”
“Yes, Ally?” He’s still teasing, but his voice is uneven, and I can tell he’s struggling to maintain his own control. “Do you still have an ache?”
His fingers are maddeningly close to where I want them. “Please, Drew—”
He hooks a finger under the elastic of my panties and his eyes widen. “Fuck!” he groans, as his control finally snaps.
And then a lot of things seem to happen all at once. He pushes down his jeans and his boxers, revealing a very impressive erection. Somehow, my panties disappear, and he settles himself between my legs.
Then he drives into me and starts to move, and it’s too good.
Sex is a hell of a lot better with someone you love. Especially when you know that person loves you back.
Afterward, we laze in bed together and Drew plays with my hair.
“Heather Larkin lost her job today,” he says casually. “Her assistant got a written warning.”
“What?” I sit up in surprise. “Because of what they said about us?” I’d hoped Heather would be disciplined for what she said, but I didn’t expect her to get fired.
“Their behavior was inconsistent with the values of the organization.” Drew shrugs as though it’s no big deal, but there’s a smile of satisfaction on his lips.
“What did you do?”
“I met with the head of Human Resources last week, while you were still in England,” he explains. “I showed them the email you sent me, describing what you overheard. HR should be reaching out to you shortly to offer you your job back.”
“Wow. Drew, I . . . thank you.”
His eyes search mine. “If you want the job, that is.”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “Actually, I don’t think I do. I’ve been thinking about teaching tennis. I have a meeting with the athletics director for the Somerset Club next week, there may be an opportunity there.”
Drew’s face splits into a grin. “Ally, that’s great.”
I feel myself smiling too. “Yeah. The Somerset Club would just be part time, but I think I can find some private clients too. My parents’ neighbors asked if I’d teach their daughter last year. I said no at the time, but I might reach out to see if they’re still interested—”
“You should.” Drew wraps his arm around my chest and pulls me underneath him. He drops a featherlight kiss on my forehead, then works his way down, kissing my eyelids, my cheekbones, the tip of my nose. “You’ll be spectacular.”
“I hope so.” I don’t know if I’ll be any good as a tennis coach, or if I’ll be able to make a living at it. But I owe it to myself to give it a shot.
Drew kisses his way down my neck, pausing at the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
“I still can’t believe they fired Heather,” I muse.
Drew lifts his head from my neck. “That’s what you want to talk about right now?”
I’m tempted to tell him to go back to what he was doing, because it felt incredibly good. But curiosity wins out.
“I’d have thought they’d need more evidence. The only other person there was Janine, and she would have backed Heather up.”
“Apparently there had been other complaints about Heather, and the board wasn’t too happy with her overall performance.”
“But even still . . .”
Drew rolls off me with a sigh. “I explained that I didn’t feel able to work with her anymore.” He pauses. “And then I resigned as department chief.”
“You quit?”
“As the department chief, yeah,” he nods. “And I might have implied I was considering a job offer in Toronto.”
“Really?” I search his face, trying to read his expression. Remembering what he told me about his mother, and his reasons for coming back to Somerset. “But . . . would you really have moved?”
He shrugs. “If you’d been willing to move with me.”
He says it lightly, but I know what this really means. He was prepared to leave Somerset because Heather insulted me.
“Drew,” I begin, searching for the right words.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he interrupts. “They got rid of Heather.”
“Did they ask you to come back as chief?”
“They asked,” he says. “But I said no. I agreed to stay on for three months while they find a replacement, but then I’m done.”
“Really? But Peter Tate’s donations—”
“Hopefully he’ll continue to donate,” Drew says with a shrug. “But if not, I can’t worry about it.” A smile plays on his lips. “Someone told me I was working too much.”
“Well, yeah.” Understatement of the decade.
He grins. “So it’s time to let someone else handle the parking complaints.”
“You’ll have so much free time.”
“I’m not sure about that. I have a girlfriend now.”
“Is that right?” I tease.
“Uh huh. And she deserves a lot of attention,” he says, slipping a hand between his legs.
And I lie back and enjoy it. Drew Malone is very good with his hands.