Chapter 29 #2
My mouth was just moving on its own at this point.
I couldn’t blame the sleep, the alcohol, or whatever else I’d used as excuses all night because the real reason I was flirting with him was simply because I wanted to flirt with him.
Because I was comfortable, having fun, and maybe, I think, wanted to have sex with Elliot Ashwood.
That’s what that unidentifiable weight in the pit of my stomach was. The one that, every now and then, appeared a little lower, in my core. Pulsing and aching and screaming his name.
He groaned again, his fingers flexing around my legs and ribs. “Don’t—”
“Why not?” I played with the first button of his shirt, and I could tell he was growing impatient. Not tired from carrying me up the stairs or exhausted because I did weigh more than he’d expected. Just impatient and really desperate to get behind that door of ours.
“Because we can’t.” But the way he sighed in relief when we made it to the top floor said differently. “Because it’s late, and we’ve got work tomorrow. And we can’t—”
He let me out of his arms gently, waited until I’d grasped my footing, then turned to unlock our door.
“What if I want to?”
“Maeve.” That warning note in his tone again.
I wish I knew why. The previous excitement was replaced by confused desperation and a need to cling to some of my self-respect.
He managed to get the door open, let me in, and threw it shut a little too loudly behind me. As if he needed that space between us, he went to stand on the other side of the hall, taking his first deep breath in a while, clinging to the door of his room like a lifeline.
“You should sleep,” he added. “Really. Trust me. You don’t want this.”
But what if I did? What if I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more?
I wasn’t in the habit of begging, though. Especially not for a man.
“Goodnight, Elliot.”
Maybe I should’ve begged.
Half an hour later, the dress was back on the hanger behind my door, my makeup had been washed off, and my teeth freshly brushed. I’d done my skin-care routine, cuddled into my sheets, and told myself goodnight the same way I’d said it to Elliot.
But all I could think of was him.
Before I met him, I had no issues falling asleep. Now, thoughts of him and his hands and lips were keeping me up far past my bedtime multiple times a week. Making me play with the possibility of tiptoeing over to his room.
I wouldn’t, I told myself.
If that were true, I wasn’t sure why I’d just pushed my covers away. Why I swung my legs out of bed, turned on the lamp on my bedside table, and had my hand on the doorknob ten seconds later.
Why, after Elliot said we couldn’t, he was standing on the other side of my door. His hand, ready to knock, lowered.
His presence was so unexpected, I lied. “I was just getting some water!”
He smiled. “I wasn’t.”
He took a single step toward me, and again, we were chest to chest and nose to nose. Almost as close as I’d wanted him the entire night.
He looked me up and down, letting his fingers trace the fabric of my PJs so absentmindedly that I wasn’t sure if he was aware of what it was doing to me.
When his eyes flicked back to mine, he swallowed thickly.
Like talking was hard and he’d much rather do anything else. “I thought I should explain.”
But that just sounded like more talking and more time spent agonizingly close to each other without being able to do anything about that need for him. “Do you have to?”
His surprise turned into amusement, then into something much darker. That same pulsing need between my thighs and impatience, finally about to spill over the edge. He took another step, pushing me back into my room. Another step, and another until my legs hit the bed frame.
“Why?” His laugh was low, teasing. The same way his finger played along my collarbones, trailing down my chest and back up again. “Are you in a hurry?”
I couldn’t take it anymore. That knowing smile on his face, the teasing touches, and the fire behind his usual blue eyes, which were almost entirely black. My hand closed around his wrist, led his hand over that same path down my chest. “You tell me.”
I had no idea what I was doing, but it felt so right, and Elliot’s sigh of approval told me it wasn’t the wrong thing to do, at least.
So, I didn’t stop when our hands slipped below the fabric, grazing my skin and making both of us gasp in surprise and contentment and finally. Didn’t stop until his cold hand closed around my breast, nipples perked—and he snapped.
We fell back onto my bed, or I pulled, or he pushed. I couldn’t be sure between the fucks muttered into my mouth and his teeth digging into my lips in some kind of useless punishment for pushing him over the edge of his rational thinking.
“You’re evil, Maeve.” Just the way my name sounded in that guttural voice had me squirm below him. “I like to think of myself as a man with morals and self-control. But when it comes to you—”
He flipped us, held me by my hips, and kissed me in a way I’d never been kissed before. Not even by him. Hungry and desperate and ready. In a way that made me think anything could happen.