Chapter Sixteen – Rachel
She’d been fighting this moment ever since she’d set eyes on Elliott Thornberg. And now she was about to give in.
No, this wasn’t about giving in. It was about reaching out and taking what she wanted.
And that was exactly what she intended to do.
Rachel leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, finally surrendering to the pull that had been drawing her toward Elliott since the moment they’d met.
The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as her restraint finally melted away.
She slid her hands up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath her fingertips.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered against his mouth, her voice barely audible even to herself.
Elliott’s response was an inaudible sound that vibrated through her body. He kissed her throat, his lips sending heat down her neck. Rachel whimpered, her thighs pressing together as heat pooled between them.
This was happening. She was choosing this—choosing him—and the knowledge made her bold. She reached for the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, undoing them one by one, revealing the expanse of his chest. His skin was warm beneath her hands as she pushed the fabric aside.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to his collarbone, his chest, his nipple. She took the hardened bud into her mouth, sucking gently, feeling him shudder beneath her touch.
Elliott slid his hands beneath her sweater, skimming over her ribs.
He pulled it over her head, and she raised her arms to help him, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders as the fabric cleared her head.
His fingers traced the edge of her bra before he pulled the cups down, freeing her breasts.
“Rachel,” he breathed, before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.
She gasped at the sensation, her head falling back as he lavished attention on her, his tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing across her sensitive skin as his mouth moved to her other nipple.
The pleasure was almost overwhelming. Rachel stepped back, feeling suddenly powerful despite her vulnerability.
She held his gaze as she finished undressing, removing her bra completely, then her jeans and underwear.
Standing naked before him, she felt no shame—only a thrilling sense of ownership over this moment, over her desire.
Elliott swallowed hard, his eyes darkening as they traveled over her body. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Rachel’s eyes dropped to the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Your turn,” she said, her voice huskier than she’d expected.
He didn’t hesitate, removing his clothes with efficient movements that still managed to be graceful. And then he was naked too, all lean muscle and obvious arousal, and Rachel couldn’t look away.
Elliott moved toward her with the fluid grace of a predator, and her breath caught in her throat.
He lifted her and set her on the edge of the kitchen table as if she weighed nothing.
His hands were everywhere—cupping her face as he kissed her deeply, sliding down to fondle her breasts, stroking her thighs, spreading them wider.
When his fingers found her center, Rachel moaned into his mouth. He stroked her gently at first, then with more purpose, one finger slipping inside her while his thumb circled her most sensitive spot.
“Elliott,” she gasped, reaching for him, wrapping her fingers around his length.
He groaned at her touch, then dropped to his knees before her. Rachel barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth replaced his hand, his tongue sliding through her folds, tasting her, teasing her.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him against her as waves of pleasure built inside her.
His fingers joined his tongue, curling inside her, finding that perfect spot that made her see stars.
When his lips closed around her sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking gently, she came, crying out his name as her body shuddered with release.
Before she could catch her breath, Elliott was kissing his way back up her body—her thighs, her stomach, between her breasts, her throat, finally claiming her mouth again.
“I need you,” she whispered, reaching between them to guide him to her entrance.
Elliott’s eyes locked with hers as he pushed forward slowly, stretching her, filling her completely. For a moment, they stayed perfectly still, connected in the most intimate way possible. Then Rachel shifted, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he began to move.
Each thrust was controlled, deliberate, as if he were memorizing every sensation.
His hands moved over her body, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples until they tightened into sensitive peaks.
He leaned down to take one into his mouth again, his tongue swirling as he continued to rock into her.
Rachel clung to him, her nails leaving half-moons in his shoulders as the pleasure built again. She’d never felt this way before—so completely known, so utterly present in her body. Every nerve ending seemed alive, every touch electric.
Elliott’s movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against her ear. One hand slipped between them, his fingers finding her center again, rubbing circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.
“Let go for me,” he murmured, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. “I want to feel you.”
His words pushed her over the edge. Rachel’s back arched as her second orgasm crashed through her, more intense than the first, her inner walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure radiated outward from her core.
Elliott followed moments later, his hips jerking against hers as he emptied himself inside her with a deep groan that she felt more than heard.
For a long moment, they remained tangled together. Elliott’s forehead rested against hers, his arms holding her close as if he were afraid to let her go.
“That was...” Rachel couldn’t find the words.
“Yeah,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “It was.”
Eventually, Elliott carried her to his bed, laying her down with such care that Rachel felt tears prick her eyes. They made love again, slower this time, exploring each other’s bodies until they collapsed, sated and exhausted.
Rachel curled against Elliott’s side as his breathing deepened into sleep.
She watched his face in the dim light filtering through the curtains—the firm line of his jaw, the fan of his lashes against his cheeks, the slight curve of his lips.
He looked peaceful, content in a way that made her heart ache with happiness.
This was happiness, she realized with a jolt. Pure, uncomplicated happiness.
And that was exactly what frightened her.
Because happiness like this could be lost.
What if this couldn’t last? What if, despite all his promises and all her hoping, Elliott eventually left as Mark had? What would she tell the girls then? How could she explain that she’d let someone else into their lives only to have him walk away?
Rachel slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him.
She gathered her clothes from where they’d been scattered across the cabin floor, dressing quickly in the darkness.
Each piece of clothing felt like armor being replaced, protecting her from the vulnerability of what had just happened between them.
She stood by the bed for a long moment, watching Elliott sleep. Her fingers itched to brush the hair from his forehead, to trace the line of his cheek, to wake him with kisses and slide back into the warmth of his arms.
Instead, she left him a note, then leaned down and pressed her lips softly to his temple.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “I just need a little more time.”