Chapter Eleven #2
“You look pretty adorable,” she said when he emerged from the bathroom.
He looked down, but it did little for the four inches of ankle exposed below the hem. “I’m channeling all the go with the flow I can muster. The fact that they’re clean is helping.”
Ellie grinned. “Even if they smell like girl?”
Jack simply angled his head.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Understatement.” He took the seat she’d already started to think of as his.
She handed him a plate and sat across from him at the small table. “I feel compelled to state for the record that I do know how to make a proper meatball.”
“Noted.” He eyed the pile of pasta. “But now I feel compelled to state for the record that I have no complaints.”
“Yeah, but would you say that if you weren’t relying entirely on me for your sustenance?”
“Yes.” Jack looked genuinely offended by the question.
“One, because when someone cooks you a meal, whatever the circumstances, complaining is a dick move. Two, because frozen meatballs are the foundation of party meatballs, which are the best part of any party or potluck. They should never be disparaged.”
He’d spent the better part of the day surprising her, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop now. “When you put it that way.”
Jack speared one of the meatballs and popped it into his mouth whole.
Yes, it was small, but the gesture made Ellie laugh.
It was nice to finally feel at ease around him.
Or maybe it was more accurate to say it was nice to feel like Jack was finally at ease around her.
She’d hoped a chill and charming guy lived under the crusty exterior he presented to the world, and it was satisfying to be proven right.
“Are you happy with what you got done today?”
“Yeah.” He nodded affably. “I should be done with the upstairs this week. You?”
She mirrored the nod. “I’m about halfway through the plaster repair. It’s exciting to be able to work on some of the painting now.”
He chuckled. “It makes sense, even though I’m the opposite. I’m in it for the guts behind the walls. Fixtures and stuff are just gravy.”
“I can see that.”
“Fortunately, Logan deals with all the deciding and making sure it’ll look good. If I had to do the shopping or the back and forth with clients, I might have looked for a new line of work.” Jack shuddered, punctuating his feelings on the subject.
“It’s reassuring to know you have a brand.” As opposed to his prickliness being unique to interactions with her.
He hung his head briefly, but when his gaze returned to hers, it was relaxed.
It wasn’t just relaxed, though. It was…appreciative.
Appreciative in that way she’d been looking at Jack since day one.
Appreciative enough that Ellie would bet her favorite set of brushes Jack wanted her.
Was that possible? Or perhaps the more apt question was whether there was a chance in hell he would act on it.
She resisted the urge to make a joke, to flirt overtly. That hadn’t gotten her anywhere. If anything, it made Jack close up like a clam. Instead, she went for a smile. Not coy, exactly. Soft. Inviting.
They ate in companionable silence, leaving Ellie to wonder if Jack’s thoughts were anywhere near hers. Specifically, about spending another night in the same bed and whether she’d be able to keep her hands to herself.
“One more?” she asked after noticing Jack had drained his wineglass.
Jack winced. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t why?”
He didn’t answer.
“I mean, you’re not driving anywhere. You don’t have anywhere to be in the morning.”
Jack dipped his chin slightly, and the resulting pseudo stern look had her stomach doing flips. “Because if I have another, my judgment will get fuzzy, and I’ll be tempted to act impulsively.”
She swallowed, the flipping sensation settling decidedly lower than her belly. “Would that be so bad?”
His eyes narrowed. “You tell me.”
“I don’t think it would be bad at all.” She took a chance and topped off both their glasses.
Jack carried their plates to the sink. “Say more.”
Ellie swallowed a laugh. “Why do I get the feeling that’s typically the last thing you usually want to say?”
He leaned against the counter, sexy as fuck even in her borrowed clothes. “I don’t like idle chitchat. When there’s something to be discussed, something to be settled, it’s different.”
She stood, picking up both glasses. “And this is one of those times?”
Jack simply nodded.
She felt warmed from the inside out, and the edges of her mind went soft.
A far cry from being drunk, but it made her feel light.
Like the ropes and strings she used to inhibit herself had been loosened, and she could float free.
Like the overwhelming responsibility to act like a logical, rational adult suddenly didn’t exist.
“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now,” Jack said.
If he was opening that door, no way in hell would she miss the opportunity to walk through. She handed him his glass. “I’m thinking that I’d love it if you kissed me.”
One brow raised slightly, more a show than real surprise. “Were you planning to tell me that?”
She smirked. “I was waiting to see if you felt the same.”
“And how were you planning to determine that?” He seemed equal parts amused and curious now. So different from the gruff and grumpy guy she’d met a few weeks prior. And yet, so quintessentially Jack.
“I’m pretty good at reading people.” Which wasn’t always a good thing, she’d learned, but no need to get into that now.
“Yeah?”
“Totally. I’d pay attention to the way you looked at me. I’d touch you.” She trailed a finger down his arm. “See how you responded.”
“I see.” Jack’s pupils dilated slightly, and his irises darkened. Did he know that?
“I’d drop enough hints that I might get you to kiss me first, but I wouldn’t be afraid to initiate if I knew you wanted it as much as I did.” She was pretty sure he did at this point, but it was a game now. Foreplay as much as figuring each other out.
“What if I told you flat out that I wanted to kiss you?”
Not that it was supposed to be hard, but this was almost too easy. “I’d ask what you were waiting for.”
He shook his head slowly, without breaking eye contact. “Not a damn thing.”
She’d meant what she said. She wasn’t afraid to do the initiating. But there was something extra delicious about feeling desired, pursued. For all their arguing and getting on each other’s nerves, that was exactly the way Jack made her feel in that moment. Desired. Pursued.
He took his time, setting down his wine and doing the same with hers. He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and ran his thumb along her jaw. He had a callous, just above the joint, and she wondered what the roughness would feel like on more delicate skin.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he said.
“Tonight?” she asked, not needing to know but wanting to.
“Way before tonight.”
Nice to know the feeling was mutual. Even as her hold on the thread of their banter grew tenuous. “And why didn’t you?”
“Because we’re working together. Because you drive me bananas. Because we never seem to be alone together for more than two minutes at a time.”
Would he talk himself right out if it? “That’s a lot of reasons not to.”
He brushed his thumb over her lips. “They all seem pretty insignificant now.”
“Oh, good.” Her voice had gone breathy and completely gave her away. Not that she was still trying to play it cool. Not really.
“Very good,” he said.
Jack moved in. Closer and closer, until Ellie’s eyes instinctively closed.
Jack’s mouth moved slowly over hers, as though giving Ellie a chance to acclimate.
Or maybe he was simply taking his time. Either way, the kiss was confident, sure.
Jack Barrow might be loath to admit it, but damn.
The man knew how to kiss. That realization, the sudden confidence that he knew how to do a lot more than kiss, shot a lightning bolt right to her core.
As though he could read every pheromone pulsing through her, Jack took the kiss deeper.
When she gasped, he slipped inside, his tongue teasing hers.
Just like with the callous on his thumb, the sensation sent her mind racing to other places his tongue might go.
Her clit throbbed in response, making her gasp.
Jack broke the kiss, pulled just far enough back to scrutinize her face. “Yes?”
Ellie nodded. “Oh, most definitely. Yes.”