Chapter 34
After leafing through a couple stacks of mail on the desk, throwing some out and tucking some others into my purse to look at later, I went to find Elijah.
He wasn’t at the bar where I’d left him. His plate was still there, not a single piece of food left on it, along with an empty glass of what was probably our draft beer. A twenty sat on the counter, tucked under the knife.
Presley stopped on her way to the kitchen, stacked Elijah’s dirty dishes on top of the ones she already held, and said, “You are a saint for hiring Lucas. I love him.”
I could feel my brows go down, which must’ve been why she quickly added, “Not love, love. Just in the sense that he has helped a lot.”
“That’s great, Presley. Thanks for hanging in there. You are excellent at your job, and we need you here.”
She smiled, said, “I know,” then opened the door to the back with her butt.
I really did miss it here—the moving parts, the constant work, the hum of voices and clinking of dishes, the smell of delicious food.
Out the glass door to the patio, I saw Elijah standing there, chatting with some customers. They were laughing at whatever he was saying. Damn if he didn’t look good standing in my restaurant.
I pushed open the door. The patio was at only about half capacity with guests. I looked at my watch. Seven PM on a Friday. It should’ve been busier than this. This was obviously what Raya had meant when she said business was down after that review. The thought tugged at my chest.
I smiled at tables as I walked by, then stood shoulder to shoulder with Elijah. He had moved on from the customers and was now studying the fruitless olive tree we had planted in the center of the patio. It wasn’t very tall, but its knobby branches and pale green leaves spread out wide. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said.
“You didn’t need to leave a tip.”
“Of course I did,” he said.
I slipped my hand into his and squeezed.
“Your restaurant is really nice.”
“But not cool,” I said.
He smiled. “It could be cooler.”
“You have ideas?” I asked.
“Maybe a few.” He reached out with his free hand and pinched a leaf between his thumb and forefinger. “This tree is nice. This patio has a lot of potential.”
It was a large, covered patio. The tree was literally the only thing we had done to bring any sort of atmosphere out here. Aside from the tables and chairs, there were also a few potted plants at the corners of the short gate that enclosed the area.
“Yes, you let your big, beautiful, artistic brain think of how we can turn this place into a must-visit destination.”
He dropped my hand and put his arm around me. “I’d like to show you a must-visit destination,” he said in a low, suggestive tone.
“That didn’t work.”
“But I used the voice.”
I laughed. I felt like I could float out of here, not touching the ground. I took him by the hand and led him back inside. “I have a must-visit destination for you.”
I pushed through the doors to the back hall again, then past the kitchen. I pulled him into my office, shutting and locking the door behind us.
He was turning in a circle when I faced him, as if I really was showing him a special place. “I don’t think—” he started to say, but I tugged him closer by the waistband of his jeans.
“Here?” he asked, a smile sneaking onto his lips.
“Are you objecting?”
“I thought you could control yourself,” he teased. “That you would never feel an urgent enough desire to take someone in a back office.”
“You worried you can’t perform with all the people just outside this door?”
He took my hand in his and placed it on his very hard groin. “What do you think?” he growled.
“Oh, guess not,” I said, my cheeks heating up as though flustered. Was I flustered?
He kissed me while guiding me toward the desk. He pulled away, assessing our options, and I could tell he was about to make a dramatic move to swipe all the papers to the floor.
I pulled him to the couch instead. It was about the same size as the one in Dr. Franklin’s office, shoved in the corner, and stacked with boxes of cloth napkins and aprons.
I yanked one box to the floor, and it landed on its side, the contents spilling out.
He lifted the other two, carefully stacking them against the wall.
The task was taking too long, so I shimmied out of my blazer in the meantime. He turned and, when he saw me, pulled his T-shirt over his head.
“People won’t bother you back here?” he asked.
I smiled at his worry. It was a complete one-eighty from the normal roles we played.
I raised my eyebrows. “Isn’t that part of the fun?”
His smile widened as though impressed.
I pushed him back toward the couch. He got the hint and sat with his back against the armrest and his legs across the cushions. Then I climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
“Hmmm,” I hummed, rocking against his erection.
“You’re determined to always give us the least possible space to work with,” he said.
“You’re the one who started the small-space brag list.”
He gave me a wicked smile and somehow managed to completely reverse our positions by wrapping an arm around my waist, pushing off the armrest, and depositing me onto my back against the opposite one.
He slid me down until my head was flat on the cushion.
He kneeled between my legs and undid the button on my pants, his eyes on mine while he did.
He slid them down my legs and deposited them on the floor along with himself.
He now kneeled on the carpet beside the couch.
His mouth went to my stomach, and my eyes fluttered closed, feeling every nerve ending in my body buzz to life.
His mouth moved down, gliding along my underwear where his teeth scraped the material covering me.
Oh, god. A zing of pleasure shot through me.
It had been too long since I’d had an orgasm.
I should’ve taken care of myself a few times in anticipation of this because I was going to climax embarrassingly fast. In the back, dingy office of my restaurant with all my friends on the other side of the door.
There. That did the trick. I was not on the edge anymore.
Well, I wasn’t.
Until his mouth was moving up to my breast and his hand was slipping into my underwear, easily finding its way inside me.
I gasped.
“Bad or good?” he said in a low, throaty voice.
“Good,” I said through a moan.
His free hand moved aside my bra, exposing my nipple to be gently caressed by his tongue. His finger inside me curved just right, hitting a spot that made me see stars.
I groped around for any piece of him to return the favor, but he was outside my reach. He gathered my hands in one of his and trapped them against the armrest while he continued to work me.
“I’m out of practice,” I said.
He abandoned my breast and covered my mouth with his in the softest, most intimate kiss I had ever felt. It made me want to weep or scream I love you or never let him go.
“Just relax,” he said. “Let it happen and then I can get you there all over again.”
“I…” I arched against him as he slipped another finger inside me. “I want you inside me.”
“First this,” he said. “You feel so good. Warm. Soft.” He released my hands to brush his fingers lightly through my hair. Both his hands knew exactly what they were doing, and tingles spread from both ends of my body until they met in the middle.
I was trying to keep quiet, but moans escaped, one right after the other as the joy in my body climbed to barely containable. His fingers worked me just right, bringing me to my peak. Then waves of pleasure exploded through me, my back arched, my mouth open, my breath gone.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in my ear.
My eyes shot to the door, wondering if anyone had heard me.
He smiled, freeing his hand from my underwear and moving the edges back into place. “You did that,” he said. “In public,” he added in a whisper.
I gave a breathy laugh. “We’re not done.”
“Wasn’t sure your nerves could handle more than that.”
“I’m not a taker,” I said, sitting up. “I believe in fair play.”
“Do you?”
“Now sit down so I can give you a hand job.”
He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”