Chapter 14 #2
“That wasn’t…” I cleared my throat, moving to settle onto my elbow so I could cup my cheek in my hand and look at Elliot.
He was Calvin Klein model gorgeous, with the sunlight hitting him, showing off the tousled curls, the square jaw, his piercing, kind eyes. The muscles that seemed sculpted by Michelangelo himself.
His lips were turned upward in amusement as he waited for me to form a complete sentence. It was a warm amusement, intimate.
“There weren’t a lot of … orders this time.” It was a terrible articulation of what I was trying to say. Or ask. I didn’t know what exactly I was trying to express.
“You’re trying to discern whether I need to order you to get on your knees every time I fuck you?” His teasing tone matched his face.
Though I normally got irritated when people teased me, especially when it was about something I felt unsure of, I couldn’t stop my own mouth from tilting up some.
“Well, yes.” I had the insane urge to brush a wayward curl from his forehead. Such a tender gesture was beyond the pale for fuck buddies and definitely not something I was practiced in doing.
“I’m by no means sexually inexperienced,” I expanded, not giving in to the urge.
“I’ve just never been a part of an arrangement like this before, and that…
” I gestured to both of our bodies, trying to encompass the sex we just had.
“Was nothing like last night. And you seem to have gotten off on it?—”
Elliot grabbed my face, pulling me to him for a hungry kiss.
My mind instantly went blank, and I sank into that kiss, uncaring of the morning breath problem—he didn’t seem to have it, and if he did, I liked it.
“I got off on that, Calliope.” His lips brushed against mine in a smile before he completely let me go, sinking back onto the pillows. “I get off on anything that involves you coming underneath me. Coming … anywhere, really. I get off on you .”
The compliment wasn’t exactly something Hallmark would start putting on cards, yet it felt tender, nonetheless.
I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know how to breathe around the uncomfortable sensation in my chest. Everything felt like it was tightening, squeezing.
Elliot was watching me carefully, his smile slowly disappearing.
“I’m capable of fucking you like a dirty whore and making love to you, Calliope, and I think that scares you more than anything.”
His words prickled along my spine, two in particular sharp enough to break the skin, burrowing inside of me.
Make. Love .
That. Right there. That was what I needed to hear in order to slap myself out of whatever temporary madness I’d indulged in that morning. I’d promised myself a night of passion. And it was morning.
I scrambled out of the bed, all limbs and sheets, tangled in my desperation until I finally fought free with a huff of breath.
Elliot let me go, watching as I searched the room for my clothing until I remembered that it was all on his kitchen floor.
I could’ve just ran from the room, gotten my clothes and left.
But that felt cowardly. Nor could I have a conversation while naked.
So I stomped over to the set of drawers in the corner, opening them with more force than necessary, seeing neatly folded tees arranged in the space.
I yanked one out at random, my fingers squeezing the soft, worn cotton, unwilling to acknowledge how much I loved that fabric.
I was hastily erecting walls in which to protect myself. Protect Elliot. End this madness.
“You have to be in love to make love. ” I shoved the tee over my head. “Of which we are not .” I punctuated the last word with a hard tug on the hem of the shirt, glaring at Elliot in the bed.
“No,” Elliot agreed, and inexplicably, the single word settled in my stomach like a stone. He threw the covers back, standing in all his naked glory and crossing the short distance between us.
“Not yet,” he added, stepping forward and grabbing hold of the back of my neck, covering my mouth with his before I could spout out a sharp and cruel retort.
I struggled against the kiss. Or at least I told myself I should struggle against the kiss, given the enormity of what he just said.
Alarm bells were ringing, lights flashing in a far-off corner of my brain, telling me to man battle stations, to go to war against the man who was promising to ruin his life by falling in love with me.
By the time the kiss ended, I was breathing heavily, my heart beating in my throat.
Elliot’s face hovered inches from mine. I could count his eyelashes, see the faint smattering of freckles across his face, the lines at the edge of his eyes as a result of UV rays and a lot of smiling.
I took in the bump in his nose, marring the perfection in his face that only served to make it more striking. The light dusting of dark-blond stubble on his chin that had left marks on my inner thighs.
In short, he was stunning.
And he was telling me he was going to fall in love with me.
Like it was a forgone conclusion.
Sense found me quickly, like a bucket of ice water.
I stepped out of his arms, shivering when seconds ago I’d been toasty warm.
“Don’t say things like that if you ever want to fuck me again,” I snapped harshly.
“I get it, maybe there’s a shortage of women in wholesome Jupiter, Maine, who want to get kinky with you.
And you know what? I’m fine with that because there just so happens to be a shortage of men I’m interested in fucking who do kink right.
” I pointed my red-tipped finger at him.
“You’re not endearing me with talk of feelings, though.
I don’t need or want you to feel anything but attraction toward me.
And I sure as shit don’t want you thinking you’re in love with some idealized version of me only to learn that the real me is nothing you could handle or respect. ”
My brain was whirling at a thousand miles an hour, screaming all the steps I needed to take to ensure that once I walked out of there, Elliot would never want me again.
I had plenty of cruel, hateful words I could hurl at him to kill his feelings.
I’d made the promise to myself last night after all… One night, then it was over.
But I wasn’t brave enough. To hurt him. To end it yet. The mere thought of it had my throat closing with panic. I hastily rebargained with myself, restructuring promises. Not one night but an arrangement. For the duration of the short amount of time I had left here.
“Don’t fucking ruin this, Elliot,” I plead softly.
“This is the only good thing I’ve had to myself.
” My eyes squeezed shut in shame. “And I’m going to be selfish and keep it for a while.
” I opened them to see Elliot’s somber yet somehow tender expression as he gave me his full attention.
“On the proviso you don’t talk about four-letter words unless they’re referring to the act of fucking. Which is all we’ll be doing.”
I had my ‘I mean business’ tone on, which worked almost 100 percent of the time with fully grown men and slightly less with toddlers I babysat.
Elliot didn’t hop to agree, like I hoped he would, he just continued searching my face, looking for something.
His brows furrowed together. “No”
I stared at him. “What?”
He grasped my neck. “No, Calliope. I will not just fuck you. I will not let you dictate the rules here. You want this, it’s not just fucking.
I’m going to take you to dinner. I’m going to make you breakfast, walk down the street with you.
” His hand lifted the hem of his tee that I was wearing up my thigh, my hip, then cupping my bare pussy.
I inhaled roughly. There was no way that area could handle a single more orgasm. It would expire.
“And I will also fuck you.” His lips brushed mine.
He hovered there, cupping me, not stroking, not a sexual touch, just that possessive hold that made my heart gallop and my knees tremble.
Then he let me go, stepping back, folding his arms across his naked chest, brow quirked in challenge.
I glared back at him, both heart and pussy pounding. And both of those things were urging me to dive into him.
Plus, I also wanted to please him. It had been so seamless to sync into a dynamic where I did as he said without question. When it came to sex, I was okay with it. When it came to feelings, I would not be okay with it. I could not be okay with how natural that felt.
“I have to go,” I shook off the silence charging between us. “I have to pick up the girls.”
Did I imagine the flicker of disappointment in his eyes? Did I conjure it because I wanted to feel the pain of it? I didn’t know because I didn’t give him time to respond, didn’t allow myself to dissect the look any longer.
Like a coward, I turned my back on him gathering my clothes then leaving. He didn’t try to stop me.
And that was a test he both failed and passed.
THREE DAYS LATER
“I should be greeting you with a Chelsea Grin,” I told Fiona when I opened my door to see her.
The morning after leaving Elliot, I’d been able to forgo any kind of conversation thanks to the wild nature of toddlers, and because once I’d dropped them off, we’d gotten the call that Nora had given birth to a healthy baby boy.
The first boy in the little bunch of girls, and though he had a veritable badass of a dad, he stood no chance in front of the feral little goddesses I was proud to know.
I’d just come from the hospital, where I’d gotten to hold the immensely small, scrunched-up newborn, inhaling that scent that did things to even my shriveled and barren womb. Somehow, my dark heart created space to love another tiny human.
Nora was doing great, as was the proud father of Henry Gordon Derrick. I’d heard nothing from Elliot, which I’d managed to stew on, even in the new glow of a healthy baby.
I was indulging in some work before my mother and the rest of my family arrived. Before Fiona turned up at my door, unannounced, likely to interrogate me about Elliot. Hence my greeting.