37. Ellie
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ellie
IWAS ENJOYING OUR little remodeling process far more than I thought I would.
I’d never really decorated anything before, which, when I thought about it, was a little depressing.
But true, nonetheless. My house growing up wasn’t a home—simply a vessel to hold my mom’s purchases, the meaningless things she held on to.
She didn’t bother painting the walls because you could barely see them.
When I was really young, we put up decor around the holidays.
But at some point, I think that all got buried, lost in a sea of other boxes and bins.
By the time I moved to campus after high school, I despised the idea of clutter and kept my side of the dorm room as simplistic as possible. My roommate was a little messy, but it had been nothing compared to my mom, so it hadn’t bothered me.
It went on that way throughout college, and after graduation, I moved to Boston to live with Natalie, occupying the vacant part of their duplex.
It was the first time I’d really had more of my own space.
My own kitchen and living room. My own dining room and bathroom.
But I didn’t own it, of course—it had belonged to Natalie and Korey, and I hadn’t wanted to make any major changes.
More importantly, though, was the fact that so many of my favorite things, so much of what I loved and could have filled the apartment with…reminded me of the man I left behind.
It was similar in California. I lived in rentals, and I just didn’t, well, care.
I cared about this house, though.
And I cared about the man who was currently sitting on the floor, hunched over as he repainted the white baseboards.
We’d painted a lot in the last two weeks—the kitchen, the sunroom, the stairwell.
We’d even replaced the floral wallpaper in the front entryway with something that looked like it was from this century, though it still had roses in it.
We also bought a few indoor plants, and there was something about the greenery that helped make the house feel more alive again.
Tonight, the living room was aglow—a combination of the soft yellow walls and a few lit candles. Autumn had begun to creep into the air and the color of the leaves, and I was leaning into it. Maybe a change of season would be good for me.
“So I think I need to make a trip to my apartment tomorrow,” Sully said, pulling me away from my hunt for home decor. Somewhere along the way, I started using my Saturday nights to scroll through websites, on a mission to find the perfect curtains to complement all the new walls.
I blinked for a second, having completely forgotten that he had an apartment.
It had been a month, and Sully hadn’t been home—to his home—once.
“I feel like it might be time to grab more clothes,” he went on, turning to look at me and setting his paintbrush down. “Theo only packed me like three pairs of underwear, and I am just not interested in doing laundry every other day.”
My eyes widened. “Oh my God. Have you been wearing dirty underwear?”
“Jesus, no.” He pushed off the ground, wiping his hands on his jeans as he crossed the room.
Surprising me, he dropped back to the floor when he reached me, trying to fold his long legs beneath the coffee table and leaning back against the couch, similar to me.
“I’ve just been supplementing with some tighty-whities from the tenth grade, and you know, I think it’s possible my package has gotten bigger since then.
Been pretty fucking uncomfortable, not gonna lie. ”
I couldn’t stop a throaty laugh from escaping.
Sully’s gaze cut over to me, and the heat of his proximity spread through my limbs. His voice was soft, teasing. “Awfully rude of you to laugh at my pain, darling.”
And then I moved without really thinking about it, flipping onto my knees and crawling onto him. Sully’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t stop me as I straddled him. Actually, he froze a bit. Like he was afraid that whatever was happening would stop if he moved.
But eventually, once I’d settled in his lap, I felt his large hands carefully brace my hips.
“Look at that,” he murmured. “Pain is totally gone.”
I gave him a playful swat on his chest and then let my hand rest there. Beneath it, I could feel the steady thump of his heart, and I spread my fingers wider, wanting all of it. I wanted to feel every beat.
With my other hand, I traced the collar of his shirt. It was just a plain shirt—long-sleeved since the evening was chillier. But he made it look really good.
He was so very good. And I was tired of watching him do things—painting the house, mowing the lawn, making my breakfast, reading me books—and not touching him.
I wanted to touch him again.
I’d been thinking a lot about that night in the yard, with the sprinklers.
I’d been thinking about how I wished I’d been a little braver.
How I wished I’d have closed the space between us when he’d been standing there, dripping wet and staring at me like it was killing him not to touch me.
Even though I wasn’t sure if I’d been ready yet, I hated that I’d let that moment slip through my fingers.
Sully was beneath my fingers now, though. I kept one palm over his heart while trailing my other hand over the curve of his broad shoulders. He was silent as I explored. So silent, it was possible he might not be breathing.
I found my way to his hair, threading my fingers through it, and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Do you want me to cut it?” I asked, noting, not for the first time, how long it was.
“Please,” he rasped. “No one cuts it quite like you do.”
“Okay, I will.” Sully’s eyes opened again. “Can I come with you?”
“What?”
He sounded startled, like I’d pulled him out of a daze.
“To your apartment tomorrow. I want to see it.”
“I’d like that. A lot.”
I cast my gaze onto his upturned face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, and I watched his throat bob. “But not because I want to show you my apartment. It’s the opposite, really. It’s a fucking mess.”
I laughed. “I thought you said that messy is okay.”
“It is,” he acknowledged with a tilt of his lips. “Still doesn’t mean I want you to see my mess.”
“I don’t have to come,” I offered, though something tugged in my chest at the thought. “Maybe you want a break. Or some time to yourself.”
Sully began shaking his head before I even finished talking.
I studied him, cataloging the way the corner of his eyes crinkled before I even noticed his soft grin.
He propped his legs up, forcing me to slide closer to him, our hips locking into place.
There was something about the feel of his jeans against my bare skin, my inner thigh.
I’d been wearing my favorite black skort and a slouchy sweater, unable to decide if I was hot or cold.
Hot, I decided.
So very hot.
Especially when Sully’s hands curved around to my ass. He cupped it and then used his grip to press me closer to his chest. A gasp slipped out of me.
“I’m not interested in a break,” he breathed, tilting his head back to look up at me. “I want you with me all the time, actually. I’d also like it if we were this close, always. Or even closer. Because…I don’t know, I still don’t feel close enough, Eleanor. With you, I always want more.”
“I think I want more, too,” I whispered because parts of my body were pulsing in ways I hadn’t felt in weeks.
“Mm,” he hummed, one of his hands sliding to my hip, possessive and all-encompassing. A finger hooked in the waistband of my bottoms, and the simple skin-to-skin contact was dizzying. “You can take it, you know. Whenever you’re ready, you can take anything from me.”
“Can I?” I breathed, feeling flushed and lightheaded.
Sully nodded and then let one of his legs fall, straightening it beneath me until I straddled only one of his thighs—thick and muscular and rubbing against my core as he used his grip to reposition me so I was perfectly in place.
My breath hitched at the jolts of pleasure. It startled me, so foreign after a month of feeling so betrayed by my body, so out of touch with it. But so, so good, too.
Sully’s eyes grew hooded, narrowing in on my mouth before flicking up to my gaze. And he must have been able to tell that I was panicking a little because he murmured, “It’s okay, El.”
I experimented with flexing my hips, grinding myself on his thigh, and when a whimper slipped out of me, Sully encouraged me to move faster, harder. His breaths fell from his lips in heavy pants as he watched me.
“I just want…just a little.” My words sounded strangled as I pressed closer to Sully, his heat. He hummed in approval, and I shivered from the vibrations, the sensations shooting through me. And then they grew stronger, and I— “Oh.”
“That’s it, baby,” he crooned, and the air grew thick, heady with vulnerable want. “Use me. Get off on me. Please.”
I was already so unbelievably close to doing that, on edge from the feel of Sully, his proximity, the swirl of his woodsy scent around me.
Even though we were fully clothed, there was something so wicked and indecent about riding his thigh like this.
The pleasure coiled in my gut until it was nearly unbearable, and when I moaned his name, Sully seemed to hang on every syllable.
“I’m right here,” he promised as I lost myself in the safeness of his body, his warmth. “Always here.”
When I collapsed into a shuddering mess against his chest, he groaned in a way that made me think that just my touch had pushed him over the edge, too. I reached up, cupping his sharp jawline and watching as his eyes fluttered shut, but only for a moment. “Always?”
“Yeah, El. Always is how I feel about you.” He turned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to my palm. “And I don’t see that ever changing.”
After breakfast the next morning, Sully and I got into his car and headed into the cities. It was a bright early autumn day, sunny but with that crisp, invigorating quality to the air.