Chapter 40 Ellie
FORTY
Ellie
A splitting, merciless pounding started at my temples and radiated through every inch of my body. I groaned, cracked one eye open, and immediately regretted it. Too unfamiliar. Too quiet. Too…not my bed.
His T-shirt.
His bed.
Oh, fuck.
My heart slammed in my chest as I took in the rest of the room and the neatly placed ibuprofen and glass of water waiting on the nightstand.
Everything flooded back—the club with Rachel, too many drinks, and then Sawyer. God, the car. I remembered every second of sliding onto his lap, every desperate grind of my body against his.
Now, here I was, drowning in his bed, forced to face what I'd been running from. I liked it, and I liked him.
Sawyer was dangerous in a way no one else had ever been before. With him, I wanted to forget everything—every carefully built wall, every calculated move. I wanted to feel something real for once.
I was tired of fighting the pull I felt whenever he looked at me as if I wasn't some carefully packaged product but something worth wanting.
Maybe it was reckless and stupid, considering it was definitely destined to end badly—we both knew that. Whatever mess waited for me on the other side, I'd deal with it later, probably in an overpriced therapy session. Future me's problem.
Today, I was done pretending. If we were going to crash and burn anyway, why not enjoy the fall?
Still swimming in his T-shirt, I wandered into the living room, and there he was: asleep, bare-chested, and stretched out on the couch like a cruel temptation.
I didn't think, sitting on the floor beside him and resting my head on the cushion near his arm.
He stirred almost immediately, shifting toward me with a sleepy sound.
His hand moved through my hair like it was instinctive.
Without opening his eyes, he grabbed me, wrapped his strong arms around me, and pulled me straight onto the couch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
I chuckled and curled into him, pressing my face against his chest. He made a low sound that sent heat straight through me, and our legs intertwined without thought.
The way I fit against him should have been impossible, but it was as if his body had been built with the exact dips and angles to hold me.
Which, obviously, meant I had no choice but to kiss him. It was just a soft, barely there press of my lips to the curve of his throat.
“Ellie baby,” he rasped, his voice laced with sleep.
“Hi,” I whispered and kissed him there again, lingering long enough to feel the shiver that went through him.
His hand slid down, settling possessively at my waist. “What are you doing?”
I hummed, not bothering to answer as I kept my lips against his skin, too drunk on him to stop. He shifted under me to look down, dragging his gaze over me.
“What are you doing, El?” he asked again, a whisper this time.
I tilted my chin up, my mouth brushing the edge of his jaw. “Not pretending for once.”
That earned the smallest smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Not pretending to pretend?”
“Exactly.”
His eyes stayed on mine, dark and steady, his hand still lazily resting on my waist.
Neither of us moved.
“Ellie.” His voice was all low and raspy. “You’re making it really hard to think straight.”
I didn’t even blink. “I’m not here to think.”
His lips twitched. “You’re aware I’m in no shape to stop you right now? You’re sober now, and I’m barely half awake.”
“Good.”
Another soft breath of a laugh from him. He shifted under me, his fingers flexing against my waist.
“I’m serious.” He tilted his head slightly, enough that his breath ghosted across my cheek. “Tell me what this is.”
I felt his words as much as I heard them. Each one caught on my skin, sinking in, making it impossible to remember why I ever tried to resist him.
“This is me,” I whispered, my lips hovering near his jaw, “finally shutting off the part of my brain that overthinks everything and telling you I want you.”
His hand stilled. His chest lifted in slow, uneven breaths, like he was hanging on by a thread and I was the one holding the scissors.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “Because if you start this…you don’t get to act surprised when I listen.”
I held his gaze, letting every reckless, terrifying part of me rise to the surface.
“Then listen,” I whispered.
I didn’t wait for him to take the lead. I was already leaning in, closing the space between us and pressing my mouth to his. It was soft at first, a barely there touch, tasting him.
He let me continue with my lazy movements for about two seconds, and all that careful restraint he was clinging to snapped.
His hands locked around my waist, moving me to straddle his lap in one pull without breaking the kiss. Suddenly, there was no patience, only heat and something feral clawing out of us both.
The kiss deepened quickly, open-mouthed and desperate. My head spun, as if I'd been pulled into some alternate reality where NFL players actually kissed emotionally damaged pop stars who came with more baggage than an airport carousel.
His hands were everywhere—gripping, dragging, anchoring me to him like he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch between us. He wasn’t gentle. He was rough and greedy, and it only made me want him more.
I matched him—every bite, every tug, every frantic grind.
There wasn’t enough air in the room, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t think. I moved with him, chasing every dizzying drag of friction between us, shamelessly aching for more.
His abs were hard beneath me, and I rocked against him without a single ounce of hesitation.
“Ellie,” he gasped, like my name was being ripped out of him. His hands locked down on my hips, guiding me, pulling me exactly where he wanted me. Where I wanted to be. “Fuck—don’t stop. Please, don’t you dare stop.”
I wasn’t planning on it. Every ridge gave me exactly what I was chasing. I ground down harder, the friction hitting just right through the thin layers of fabric between us.
Sawyer’s breath stuttered. “Shit, baby—yeah, that’s it.”
God, he sounded wrecked, and it made me wild. I bite down on his bottom lip, swallowing the needy noises he kept making—deep, broken groans.
His hands moved like he couldn’t decide where to start—skimming up my back, slipping under my shirt, tracing the curve of my ribs.
His thumbs dragged across bare skin, rough in a way that made every inch feel new.
One hand slid higher, fingers brushing over my nipple, and I rocked against him, catching the sound of his breath stalling against my mouth.
“God, this is so much fucking better when I can touch you.” His eyes were wild when he pulled back to look at me. “Keep going. You’re doing so good, El.”
He wasn’t even trying to keep it together anymore. He buried his face in my neck, hands gripping my ass tight enough to bruise as he guided me down on him.
We were fully clothed, and somehow, that made it worse.
“Ellie baby, please. I need more. Please, baby.”
“Yes, more.” My voice came out as a breathless whisper. “Please, more.”
He sat up, dragging me with him, his hands gripping my waist. My legs hooked around him as he stood, lifting me. I barely registered him carrying me down the hallway until my back hit the mattress.
“You want this?” he asked, standing over me at the foot of the bed.
“Yes.”
His eyes narrowed on me, and he knelt. “No, Ellie.” His hand wrapped around my jaw. “Don’t say it just because you’re caught up in it. Don’t say it if you’re gonna wake up tomorrow acting like it was a mistake.”
I blinked up at him, breathing hard.
“I need you to mean it,” he said. “I need you to want this. Want me.”
“I don’t know what this is, but I do. I want you.”
He didn’t move.
I started to say, “If that’s not enough—”
His mouth crashed to mine, fierce and claiming in a deep, raw kiss that left no space for doubt or hesitation.
“I’d take the fucking crumbs you left me,” he murmured between kisses.
Sawyer didn’t kiss like he was testing the waters. He kissed like he’d already drowned and had no plans to come up for air.
“Again.” His breath hitched as rough hands slid under my shirt. “Say it again.”
I dragged my nails down his spine, and that small touch made him curse under his breath.
“I want this. I want you,” I said against his mouth.
He pulled away, and my shirt was gone before I finished exhaling.
“You’re killing me.” He groaned. “Swear to God, you’re gonna fucking kill me—”
“Shh. You like it.”
My words died on a moan when he sank his teeth into my skin, making me arch into him.
“You have no fucking clue what you do to me,” he mumbled against my skin.
His mouth dragged lower, every breath hot and uneven against my skin.
He didn’t rush. He just kept going, slow and steady, until my stomach tensed beneath him.
Then, he hooked his fingers into my underwear and tugged them down in one pull.
Before I could so much as inhale, he flipped me on top of him.
“Come here.” He tapped his chest. “Sit on my face, Ellie baby. Ride me till you come. Please. I need it. I need you.”
I giggled. “Such a dirty, good boy you are, Sawyer love, begging for me.”
I crawled up his body to position my knees on either side of his head.
He wasted no time putting his mouth between my thighs. There was no teasing, no slow build-up. He dove in, tongue flicking once, twice, before he locked his arms around my thighs, holding me down. I had a feeling he wasn’t letting me go until he got exactly what he wanted.
He was taking in every second, taking note of everything—every inch, every sound I made, touched with that mix of care and hunger.
His eyes never left mine, and when they darkened, the goofy, joking Sawyer I knew vanished.
His hands clamped down on my hips, pulling me closer.
Every movement stole my breath until the rest of the world didn’t exist—it was only him and the way my body wanted more.