Chapter 14
I t’s nearly ten when I sneak back into the apartment that night.
Maria returned to the city after promising to keep me posted on her PR efforts for the festival.
Of course, she offered to let me stay with her while I get back on my feet, but I politely declined.
After some discussion we both agreed that our collective wardrobes probably wouldn’t fit in her tiny apartment.
It’s chic as hell, but it’s the approximate size of a broom closet.
Maria went for quality over quantity. I happen to know she pays half of her rent with pictures of her feet in heels on OnlyFans.
She’s not proud of it, and I’m sworn to secrecy because if her grandma finds out, there will be hell to pay, but it’s amazing how much you can make showing nothing but an ankle and the top of your foot.
I honestly don’t know why her grandma would object, but apparently, it’s a Catholic thing.
Or an Italian thing. I’m not here to judge.
I may also have to open an OnlyFans foot account if I can’t find an event-planning job. My feet aren’t as pretty as Maria’s, though. It’s not a great plan.
Still, I feel much more centered after seeing Maria.
She always puts a practical spin on everything.
She told me to just concentrate on planning the festival, put it at the top of my new résumé, and look for remote jobs to tide me over until I can make my way back into the New York scene.
She made me feel better about everything.
.. except my desire to steer clear of Aiden.
“You sure you want to stop mixing business with pleasure so hastily?” she asked just before Donny and I dropped her off at the train station earlier. I had gotten out of the car with her to see her off.
“Aiden’s my business partner,” I had insisted.
“Your hot business partner. And you kinda just told him you want to kiss him. He’s gonna make a move. Be ready.”
The thought makes my stomach feel like tiny hang gliders are winging through it.
Maria left after promising to keep working on the PR for the festival.
She’s doing it all pro bono, which is so awesome of her.
I don’t have anything to offer in return other than a comped room for the night of the Harvest Ball.
To my surprise, she agreed to come. “I gotta see how this whole thing turns out. I’m invested now,” she said before waving goodbye and hopping on the train.
Now I am slinking into the apartment because I’m pretty sure Aiden is inside, and while I am completely sober at the moment, I do not want to run into him after what happened earlier.
I’m never drinking cider again. I’m not used to that stuff.
If I’d been drinking a martini, I’d have been in control.
I know exactly how many martinis I can drink before getting so wasted I blurt out stuff I shouldn’t say.
It is approximately 1.5 martinis. I had glugged nearly a whole giant thirty-two-ounce cider mug this morning, and apparently that is my tipping point.
What the hell was the alcoholic content in that mama, anyway?
I’m pleased to find the apartment dark. Thank God.
Aiden’s got to be asleep by now. Farmers tuck in early.
I lower my purse to the counter, kick off my boots as quietly as I can, and then fumble around in the dark feeling for familiar objects to locate my bedroom.
I have no interest in turning on a light. That might wake up Aiden.
I make my way to the far edge of the kitchen counter.
The door to my room is about twenty feet to the left, past the kitchen table and just before the tiny sofa.
It’s open space between me and the bedroom, though, so I just wave my hands out in front of me to ensure I don’t hit anything, and I start walking. .. slowly.
I count the steps in my head. I’m to seventeen when I run into the wall. Oops. I step back and rub my nose. Dang. I must have counted wrong. I am about to step again when the wall speaks.
“Trying to sneak past me?”
Gulp.
It’s Aiden.
My heart shoots up to my throat. I reach out again, and this time I realize what I thought was the wall was really Aiden’s chest. I pat it. I touch it. I run my fingers along it. Oh yeah. I recognize those pecs. He’s wearing a T-shirt, but it’s definitely Aiden.
Aiden’s breathing hitches, and my hand stops. That one little catch in his breath does something to me that I’m not going to be able to recover from.
“Ellie?” His voice is a deep, sexy whisper.
I close my eyes. “Yes?” My fingers have moved to his lower abdomen.
“I wanted to kiss you too.”
The admission makes me ache. I press my thighs together. I clench my jaw, my resolve crumbling away.
His hands move to my shoulders. I have no idea how he found them in the dark.
Is my lust making me phosphorescent? One hand moves up my neck, slowly skimming the thin skin there with his thumb.
When he reaches my jaw, his thumb traces along the bottom edge of it.
My head tilts to the side automatically, wanting more.
His index finger skims my lips, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine. His tongue barely touches my lips. He’s tasting me, finding me. And my hands move up his abdomen, to his chest, then to his shoulders. I’ve wanted to grab these shoulders for days. Now’s my chance.
His mouth slants across mine, and our tongues meet.
He tastes like smoky apples and smells like pine needles and maddeningly hot aftershave.
He pulls me hard against his body, his large hands cupping my ass as he holds me close.
A wave of wanting shoots through my whole body.
I feel like I may collapse. But I cling to his shoulders and wrap my arms around his neck.
He leans down, kissing me more, harder, closer.
I can’t get enough. His mouth moves to my cheek, and then my ear, and I feel my heart race.
His tongue traces my earlobe, and I nearly buckle.
I make a whimpering sound in the back of my throat.
He kisses the sensitive spot just beneath my ear. I shudder.
“Ellie,” he breathes against my cheek.
“Yes.” I want him to scoop me up into his arms and take me into the bedroom. Either bedroom will do. I’m not picky.
I’m waiting. Any minute now. Scoop! Scoop!
“Goodnight,” he breathes, and seconds later, I’m still trying to wrap my head around that when I hear his door click shut.