Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
ELLY
The cab ride home is torture.
Sweet, beautiful, miraculous torture…
Grammercy Graves wants me as much as I want him. My fake husband feels it, too—this wild, perfect, almost fated pull between us. I’m not alone!
I’m not alone, I’m not crazy, and in just a few minutes, I’m going to know what it’s like to make love to the man of my dreams. The enormity of it is enough to make my head spin.
I lean closer, biting my lip as I fight the urge to kiss him again.
His hand rests on my thigh— heavy, hot, branding me through the thin fabric of my dress, making my feverish brain replay every second of what he did to me, over and over. Every pothole, every tiny flex of his thumb against my skin, sends electricity shooting between my legs.
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only makes it worse.
I’m still soaked from what he did to me in that booth, still haunted by the phantom of his thick fingers inside me, his rough voice in my ear telling me how badly he needed me to come while the band played less than ten feet away.
“Jesus, Elly,” he mutters under his breath. I glance up to find him staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight I’m worried he’ll crack a tooth.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“No.” He turns to look at me, his eyes glittering with the same hunger that’s driving me crazy. “I’m about ten seconds from telling the driver to pull over at the closest hotel.”
Heat floods through me, making my pussy throb. “That’s not the worst idea.”
“Not this time,” he says with a tight laugh. “Once I get you into a bed, I’m not gonna want to let you out of it until morning. And we have to send Nancy home before one.”
“You’re right. You’re very wise, and very correct about the not getting out of bed part.” I bring my lips to hover by his ear as I whisper, “I can’t wait for you to be inside me. I need you so much.”
He curses softly as his hand tightens on my thigh, his fingers digging in enough to hurt in the best way. “You’re going to be the death of me, Elly. Seriously.”
“Same,” I manage, my voice shaking.
When we finally pull up to the building, Grammercy shoves money at the driver and practically drags me out of the car.
The doorman does a double-take as we rush past, and I know how this must look, me with my lipstick smeared, Grammercy with his shirt untucked, both of us moving like we’re on fire .
But I can’t bring myself to care.
Because I am on fire, the flames rising higher with every moment this man isn’t naked and on top of me. We’re both on the verge of completely losing control.
The elevator doors barely close before he’s on me.
My back hits the mirrored wall hard enough to rattle the handrail, but I don’t care.
His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and desperate, and I meet his tongue, stroke for stroke.
My hands are everywhere—in his hair, under his shirt, fumbling with his belt—and so are his. We’re starved for each other’s skin.
I’ve nearly freed his cock to my fingers when he grips my wrist, gritting out, “Wait. Cameras.”
I freeze, exhaling a ragged breath.
Shit. Right. I’d forgotten that I now live in a building fancy enough to have security cameras in the elevators.
“Sorry,” I groan, dropping my forehead to his chest.
“Never apologize for wanting to touch me,” he counters, his voice rough. “Never, baby. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you want me half as much as I want you.”
The elevator dings before I can respond, before I can tell him that he’s making all my dreams come true in a way that doesn’t feel quite real yet.
But it is real, as real as the woman waiting for the down elevator on our floor with her dog, who shoots us a startled look as we spring apart like guilty teenagers. I bite my lip, trying to play it cool as we breeze around her with softly mumbled “hellos.”
“Should you do the talking?” Grammercy asks as we make a beeline for our door. “Or should I?”
“You,” I say. “I can’t act normal right now. I can barely walk; I want you too much. ”
“Good.” The satisfaction in his voice makes me shiver. “I’m going to make you come so hard, Elly. As many times as you’ll let me. Starting by eating that sweet pussy until all I can taste is you.”
Jesus Christ.
This man.
I’m lucky my wobbly knees make it to the door.
But they do, and I end up fighting a burble of laughter as Grammercy fumbles with his keys, drops them, and swears prolifically in French.
Is that ever not going to be hot?
Probably not, I think, as I bend to retrieve them. “Here, let me. We have to help each other out.”
“I’m not sure bending over in that dress is helping right now.
” His voice is strangled, but he’s smiling as he watches me slip the key into the lock.
“God, you’re beautiful. Have I told you how beautiful you are?
I mean, really told you, so you know that just looking at you…
” He sighs. “It destroys me a little bit sometimes.”
“You destroy me, too,” I assure him, leaning in to press a kiss to his lightly stubbled cheek. He shaved this afternoon, but he’s already bristly, and I love it.
It’s hard to think of anything I don’t love about this man.
As we push through the door, Nancy’s still on the couch, half-asleep in front of an episode of Singles in South Hampton, some horrible new reality show she swears is actually kind of fun.
She takes one look at us—my puffy lips, his mussed hair, the way we’re standing way too close—and reaches for her purse.
“Mimi woke up once for a drink and a cuddle, but went right back to sleep,” she says as she pops up from the couch and breezes our way. “Hope you guys had fun. Even though you’re home, um…very early?”
“So much fun.” I shove money at her, hoping it’s enough, but knowing we’ll sort it out later, if not. “Thanks, Nancy. I’ll touch base soon.”
“Totally,” she says, calling over her shoulder as she heads for the door, “Have so much fun, you two. You deserve it!”
The lock clicks behind her.
Silence falls, and the fact that we’re basically alone—finally alone—settles between us.
And suddenly, standing there inches from this beautiful man in the place we both call home, the weight of what’s about to happen crashes over me.
This is Grammercy Graves.
My secret crush. My podcast fodder.
And now, through some unfathomable twist of Fate, my friend, my co-parent, and about to be…my lover. How is this even real?
“I should check on Mimi,” I say, my heart racing from nerves as much as lust.
Can I do this? Now? With still so much unsaid between us? With my secrets unspoken and maybe his, too? This is brand spanking new. There are still so many things we don’t know about each other.
“Elly?”
“Yes?” I gulp.
“If you don’t go now,” he says quietly, “I may have to kiss you again, right here. And then the chances that we’re going to make it to my bedroom aren’t looking good.”
“They aren’t,” I agree, my nipples tight and tingling again just from the look in his eyes. Every piece of me yearns for him with a primal need that won’t be tamped down by something as flimsy as logic.
Not even fear can hold a candle to how much I want him right now.
“Go check on our girl,” he adds. “I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
Our girl. Like she belongs to both of us. Like we’re really a family and this isn’t temporary or pretend.
I don’t know what’s more confusing, the fact that he said those words or the fact that they don’t feel as crazy as they probably should.
I practically run down the hall, needing to move, to pull in deep breaths, something to give common sense one last chance at pulling me back from the edge.
Mimi’s door is cracked, spilling warm light into the hallway.
I peek inside to find her sprawled across the bread in her tragic Victorian fashion, Miss Sparklehorn draped over her chest and her mouth open in a tiny snore.
It’s the sleep of a girl who knows she’s safe. Protected.
Loved.
And with sudden clarity, I realize I deserve to feel all those things, too. And that Grammercy makes me feel them, every single one.
All the way down the hall, through the great room, and down the shorter hallway to his bedroom, that’s all I can think about.
That Grammercy makes me feel loved, even though it’s way too damned soon.
Even though we barely know each other. Even though we had our first real, honest-to-goodness kiss tonight.
I remind myself of all that as I step through the open door to find him sitting on the padded storage bench at the base of his bed, the worry creases on his forehead visible in the soft light from the lamp in the corner.
As soon as I close the door behind me and lean back against it, they smooth, but the concern remains in his eyes as he whispers, “I was afraid you weren’t going to come. That you’d decide we’re moving too fast.”
My brows slide up. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “Maybe I should, but you feel so familiar, El. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I just… knew . I knew I was going to know you, that I had to know you or I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”
My chest goes tight. “I felt the same way. But you were a hockey player on a tiny screen I watched in my sad little apartment, and I…” I pull in a breath.
“I don’t want you to think this is about that .
I want you to know that I see you. The real you.
” I will him to hear the truth in my voice as I add, “And even if you had the most boring job in the world and we lived in my tiny apartment full of rats and never had money to go out to fancy jazz clubs, I would still be so honored to be your girl.”
“No way,” he says, rising to walk slowly across the room, making me blink faster. “I wouldn’t care what I had to do—work doubles for a month, sell popcorn at ball games at night, pimp myself out on Bourbon Street—my girls are never sleeping in a place with rodents in the walls again.”