Chapter 15 #2
As we sit in silence for the rest of the song, the need to know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling , builds until I have no choice but to say the words that have been running through my head since we left St. Charles Avenue.
Hell, since the moment the judge pronounced us man and wife.
“I think we should talk about where we go from here, chère ,” I murmur. “What about you?”
She nods, her expression sobering. “Yeah, I think we should. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that faking it doesn’t seem to be working out for us. I don’t think we’re faking it people. Do you?”
She presses her lips together, hesitating for a beat before she whispers just loud enough to be heard over the music as the next set begins with a keening saxophone, “Does this mean you want me and Mimi to move out? Or that you want to keep kissing me as much as I want to keep kissing you?”
I’m a split second away from answering that question with a kiss when Nannette appears with our drinks, setting them down with a knowing smile before melting back into the shadows like she was never there.
Elly curls her fingers around my thigh beneath the table.
“Either one is fine, I promise. I just want you to be honest with me.” She sucks in a breath before adding in a rush, “But I’ve never been kissed like that, Grammercy.
I’ve never kissed anyone like that, either.
That was special, rare, and I think we’d be stupid not to?—”
I cup her face with both hands and cover her lips with mine, silencing all that crazy talk about her and Mimi moving out with a kiss that’s just for us. Not for a judge, not for a bunch of drunk frat boys, just me and Elly, this woman who’s owned me from the moment I laid eyes on her.
And yes, a part of me still feels like a madman for falling for a stranger, but she isn’t a stranger now.
She’s the hockey nerd who cheers me on with shameless enthusiasm.
She’s the friend who sits next to me on the terrace, talking through everything in our heads and hearts as we watch the sun go down and our city light up.
She’s a fiercely devoted mother to a little girl I adore and an unstoppable force, who’s been through more in twenty-three years than most people face in a lifetime, but is still fighting, still dreaming, still as soft and kind as she is determined.
She’s just…Elly.
Elly on her way to becoming Eloise, a person who inspires me every damned day .
She’s the woman I’m falling in love with, and that was before I knew she kissed like this.
Now?
I’m ruined for all other women, ruined and happy to never kiss anyone else again for the rest of my fucking life as long as this woman is mine.
Fuck, I want her to be mine…
As our tongues stroke deep and her hands fist in my shirt, I feel her whole body shift toward me, like she’s being pulled by the same magnetic force that has me wanting to drag her into my lap right here in this booth.
Her fingers press tighter to my chest as she makes a soft, needy sound against my mouth that shoots straight to my cock, making me grateful we’re sitting down.
This woman turns me on like no one ever has. She touches me and I’m suddenly sixteen again, unable to control myself or tamp down the evidence of the way she makes me ache.
My thumbs brush along her jawline as I angle closer, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing but the wild, sweet taste of her.
She kisses like she does everything, with her whole heart, holding nothing back, giving me everything even when she should probably be more careful.
I should be more careful, too. As much as everything about Elly feels like home, like heart and safety and family, the fact is that we’re still basically strangers.
We’ve barely known each other for a week.
But careful went out the window the moment I saw her crying in that closet and knew I’d do anything to make this beautiful girl smile again.
“You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” she whispers against my lips. “I want to taste you everywhere.”
“Same, beautiful,” I murmur, pulse spiking as a vivid image of her legs spread and my mouth between them flashes through my head. “I want to do so many things to you with my mouth.”
“Please, yes.” Her breath shudders out as her teeth catch my bottom lip, a gentle nip that has me groaning as I slide my fingers into her hair.
Pins fly as I fist my fingers in the silky strands, but before I can apologize, she’s moaning as she says, “I want to be with you, Grammercy. I want to do everything with you, and I don’t want any of it to be fake.”
“Me, either, baby. Me, either.” I’m as close as I can get now, the edge of the table the only thing keeping me from completely losing my mind in public.
I’ve never wanted anyone—or anything—like this.
Now that I know she feels the same way, it’s almost more than I can handle.
Elly’s pulse races beneath where my thumb rests on her throat, echoing the stampede inside my chest. We’re both suffering, so desperate for this, for each other, that’s it’s almost too much.
“We should stop,” I warn, my voice low and rough. “Before we can’t.”
“I know, you’re right,” she agrees, but neither of us pulls away. If anything, our kiss only gets hotter, deeper.
“Fuck, Elly, I need you, chère . I need to be inside you,” I confess, breath catching as her fingers dig into my thigh beneath the table. “I’m so hard for you, ma petite flamme .”
“Can I feel?” she whispers.
I exhale a soft, strangled sound as I nod and then— fuck , her hand is on me, molding to my pulsing cock through my suit pants. I twitch beneath her touch as she squeezes and strokes, exploring me with an obvious appreciation that drives me crazy .
Crazy…
I really am losing it because before I know what I’m doing, my hand is gliding up her thigh, discovering the place where her stockings become skin and then—just skin. Slick, hot, already trembling under my touch.
She spread her thighs a little wider for me, and that’s all the permission I need.
I slip my fingers beneath her underwear and find her drenched and swollen, like I’ve been making her wait too long.
Silently, I promise never to make her wait again.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, her voice barely audible as she tucks her face to my neck. “That feels so good. You have no idea, Grammercy. So good…”
“All I want to do is make you feel good,” I say, gently guiding her hand from my cock.
I can’t focus on her when she’s touching me, and right now, she’s what matters. I can feel how much she needs this in the way she trembles as I glide a finger inside her. She’s so ready it nearly undoes me, her slick heat coating my skin, making my jaw clench.
I glance around just long enough to confirm no one’s close to our booth, but we’re fine.
We’re still deep in shadows, the table pressed into our chests, the music loud enough to give us cover as she gasps softly as I circle her clit.
She claws a hand into my shirt again, like she’s holding on for dear life, already bracing for impact.
“Can I make you come for me, chère ?” I murmur, my lips against her ear, “I want to make you come, baby. You’re so damn beautiful when you’re wet and spread wide for me.”
“We shouldn’t,” she whispers, but she rocks into my hand as I pump into her again, using two fingers this time.
“Just hide your face,” I whisper. “No one will see.”
She bites her lip hard as she buries her face in my neck again, shuddering as I find a slow, sensual rhythm, fucking her with my fingers as I rub the heel of my hand against her clit.
“God, Grammercy, you’re so good at that,” she breathes. Then again, a beat later, more desperate, “God, please, don’t stop. Please, I?—”
“Never,” I promise as I speed my pace just a little, matching the swell of the music as I take her there. I can feel her getting close, her body tense, strung tight against mine as she rocks against me beneath the table.
In just a few more strokes, she’s bucking into my hand, riding the edge with an abandon that makes my cock start to leak pre-come.
I’m imagining how good it would feel to be inside her tight little pussy, about to come in my pants like a teenager, when she lifts her head from my shoulder, finding my lips with hers.
The kiss is messy, frantic, starving, all teeth and tongue, and this shared need for each other that’s more intense than anything I’ve ever felt with a woman.
“Right there, angel,” I growl against her mouth. “I feel you, chère . Let go for me. Come on, baby. I’ve got you. Come for me, sweetness. Need to feel you come so bad.”
She shudders hard, shattering as she falls apart in my arms, biting down hard on her bottom lip to keep from crying out. And I feel it all, every pulse and flutter and clench of her body, every ragged gasp as she soaks my fingers .
And still, she keeps kissing me, ragged and sweet and wild, like she can’t stop.
I know I can’t.
I never want to stop.
I hold her close as she rides the last of the wave, both of us trembling, our foreheads pressed together as the jazz swells into a storm of brass and bass and heat.
The music is everywhere, but the only thing I can focus on is the woman in my arms, the woman I need in my bed as soon as humanly possible.
She shivers as I kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her temple, silently telling her she’s all I want.
She exhales, her lashes fluttering as she meets my gaze with wide, steady eyes—like maybe she’s been expecting this all along. Suspecting that we were meant to be so much fucking more than roommates. Suspecting that this “fake” love is becoming the real thing with a speed that’s wild, but real.
So fucking real.
Her hand finds my face, her thumb brushing slowly back and forth against my cheek in a caress that makes my chest tight.
Then, in the quiet between two songs, she whispers, “Take me home and make love to me?”
I nod and promise, “Anything you want, Elly. Anything.”
And I mean it. I’m going to make every dream she has come true or die trying, starting with worshipping her body with mine.
All night long.