36. Ellie #2
I felt him nod. “I agree. Here, I can do it with you,” he said, as though I wouldn’t have let him carry me straight into the shower and strip me down to nothing. Wash me clean. Kiss me until I couldn’t remember anything else but him.
But there was something about being out here, about the smell of wet grass combined with the floral notes from the rosebushes and the sound of kids playing down the street, a backdrop to the sprinklers and Sully’s feet moving through the grass.
Inside, it sometimes felt stagnant. The air in the bathroom remained stilted, memories too fresh.
Out here, I could breathe.
“Okay, let’s do—”
Sully walked directly into a spray of water, cutting off the rest of my words and my ability to speak.
Not my ability to shriek, though, which I did.
Loudly. And then Sully kept walking through the yard, and the onslaught of water didn’t stop, and despite the sudden chill and the water running down my face and the soak of clothes pressing against my skin, I laughed.
Again, I was laughing.
“Sawyer!”
“What?”
I leaned closer to him, seeking his heat and liking the way his chest rumbled when he spoke.
“A little warning might have been nice!”
“Nah.” He spun me around, letting another sprinkler beam wash my feet. “Sometimes we just need to dive in, El.”
I smacked his chest, but I was still laughing. I couldn’t not laugh, not even when Sully was running me through sprinklers like his yard was a car wash and we were the goddamn car.
Seeming convinced that I was wet enough that there would be no running away from this, Sully tipped me down from his arms, letting my feet sink into the wet earth. Then he stepped back, trusting me to stand on my own.
And I did.
I stood there and let the water hit me as it passed by another time.
And then I twirled, giggling in the twilight as I got caught between the clash of two sprinklers, hissing their release.
I twirled all the way to one end of the yard before turning around and running back, getting blasted on both sides.
Paint dripped from my arms and legs, mixing with the water, and one of my overall straps slid from my shoulders, unbuckling and falling limp.
My tank top beneath it stuck to me, plastered to my skin, which was pebbling with goose bumps.
The cold wasn’t an issue, though. The air, combined with Sully’s gaze across the yard, was warm enough to keep my blood pumping. But even if that didn’t exist, I doubted I’d mind the chill.
It was so much better than feeling numb.
By the time I made it back to Sully, I was soaked and the color of runny Buttermilk. He stood there, monitoring my movements. An amused smile played on his lips, his eyes bright. I stopped a couple of feet away, throwing my hands up before letting them drop back to my sides.
“I think I’m still a mess,” I admitted.
Sully took a moment to contemplate that. Or…something. His eyes raked down my body, lingering in places. Places that made blood run hot and had me glancing down to see what he might be looking at.
And it was then that I realized my exposed white tank top was see-through. It clung to every inch of me—to my bare skin, taut from the cold, to my nipples, which were peaked and visible through the transparent fabric.
When I glanced up, Sully was staring shamelessly.
His own body seemed taut, rigid, except for the heaving of his chest as he took shallow breaths.
And God, what a chest it was. I wasn’t the only one exposed.
His white shirt stuck to him like a second skin, clinging to every muscle, to every bit of his physique.
Sully had always seemed larger than life. But I didn’t think he’d ever looked as hulking and handsome as he did right now, standing barefoot with paint-splattered jeans, a wet shirt, and tousled damp hair.
“Mess or not, Eleanor”—his eyes moved to meet mine—“you’re beautiful, and I have never gotten over you.”
I swallowed, not sure what to say to that, what to do about the way his words made me feel. He was looking at me like they might be true, which was…a miracle.
My body no longer recognized the cold sprinkler water. It no longer recognized anything that wasn’t the heat of Sully’s stare, his nearness, his presence. And it felt so good, so good to feel like this again.
Sully took one tentative step toward me and then stopped himself. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “You’re so beautiful that I’m afraid to touch you,” he confessed in a tortured whisper.
“What if maybe—” My breath hitched, and I tried again. “What if maybe…I want you to?”
He gave a regretful shake of his head, and my chest squeezed. “Maybe isn’t good enough for me, El.”
I nodded because I understood.
Maybe wasn’t good enough.
Not when there was so much at stake.
Not when it was me and him and an entire future that we had to get right this time.
“Maybe soon, then,” I breathed with a pleading look.
He gave a measured nod.
My shoulders slumped with relief, and I wrapped my arms around myself as another spray of water hit me, and the hiss of it filled my ears. I glanced around at the persistent sprinklers, at the yard they were watering and the ground they covered.
Including the rosebushes.
“Oh my God, the sprinklers are working,” I said, feeling ridiculous that I hadn’t registered it before.
Sully’s soft laugh filled all my senses.
“And they’re hitting the rosebushes!” I exclaimed before looking back at him.
“Yep.” He somehow shoved his hands in the pockets of his wet pants and gave me a half-smile. “Finally fixed these suckers.”
He glanced around the yard at his handiwork, and I wasn’t sure why, but I’d never been so proud of him.
Or more sure that Sullivan London could fix just about anything he put his mind to.
And I suspected that was going to include us.