For some stupid reason, tears sprung to my eyes. He’d watched my favorite movie, despite everything I’d said to him in that awful argument, despite not answering my calls and texts. Elliot watching a cheesy action movie he’d once sworn to avoid was possibly the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. “I told you,” I said with a wet laugh.
“And you were right,” he said ruefully. He pulled me against him, chipping away at the last iota of my effort to do the right thing. “I was wrong.” He frowned. “About that. But I’m not wrong about you. About us.”
I could feel myself falling, every vestige of control slipping from my grasp. “I’m just being—”
He tsked. “Practical, I know. But what I’m telling you is, if you’re a risk, Lucie Clifton, you’re one worth taking. And I don’t care what you say—”
“Stop talking,” I ordered. “Stop talking and kiss me again.”
Elliot’s kiss was fierce and hard, his hands raking through my hair as I tasted sugar and rainwater on his lips. There was no holding back, all caution thrown aside. I wanted to give him everything, no matter what it cost me. Melded, we staggered backwards into the writers’ room, our momentum halted when the backs of my legs collided with our desk. Elliot groaned into my mouth, cupped my behind and scooped me up onto the desk’s surface, where he settled between my thighs. His insistent lips blazed a trail from my mouth to my neck and back again, the combination of his soft lips and faint stubble against the sensitive skin making me tremble with pleasure.
Then his hands were under my shirt, snaking up my sides until they reached my breasts. His touch was cool and damp from the rain, but his moan was primal as his thumbs brushed the lace covering my skin.
Emboldened, I pulled back from his kiss, reveling at the way his eyes greedily lit up as I slowly undid the buttons on my shirt and let it slide down my shoulders to reveal the delicate bra underneath.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.
I reached around and unhooked the bra, pushing the straps down my arms. When the underwear finally came away, he let out a low groan of appreciation and dipped his head to nuzzle me, and when his tongue touched my nipple, it was like lightning hitting the most sensitive and secret parts of me I had yet to name.
I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and he grinned wickedly, pulling it over his head. He thought I was beautiful? Elliot Fox looked like he’d been sculpted by a master. He placed a hand either side of my hips and dipped his head to kiss me again, his knee working its way between my thighs.
“You know,” he murmured against my lips, “how much I have thought about your body? How I’ve pictured this?” He leaned into me, pushing so I lay back on the table. “How I’ve been wanting to dothis?” His hand flicked the fly of my jeans open and slipped under the waistband of my knickers. I was so hungry for him; I didn’t care about anything else. I ground against the heel of his hand, stars momentarily clouding my vision. Elliot tilted his head back so he could watch my face as I took my pleasure and that just turned me on even more.
Elliot moved his hand, and then his fingers were inside me, strong but gentle. His face contorted with need as he felt just how ready for him I was. I gripped his wrist to guide him as I slowly but certainly lost my mind, my body flowing loose, like liquid. It was like that, laid across our shared desk that Elliot made me come, harder than I’d thought possible, watching me with eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
“Fuck, Lucie.” He picked me up, his boxer’s hands wonderfully rough against the bare skin of my back. Still kissing, he carried me with ease around the table, his destination the battered sofa at the other side of the room, but I was impatient and rubbed against the thick ridge in his jeans, sending him staggering into the office door with a heavy thud.
“Shit!” I pulled away from his kiss. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” He winced.
“Put me down.” I slid down his body and checked his back, where I could see a small red mark level with his hip. I brushed my lips against it. “I think you’ll survive.”
“I think so too.” His hand found my chin and he tugged my face to meet his in a kiss so tender tears sprung to my eyes. “Hey.” He pulled back, looked at me. “What’s— You’re shaking.”
He was right – suddenly, I was trembling, head to toe. Elliot wrapped me in his strong arms, and I could feel his heartbeating steady against my naked skin. It was fear, I realized, but a good kind of fear, a fear that told me I actually cared about getting this right. I didn’t want to rush through the foreplay and get out of the door, back to my life, I wanted to prolong this. I wanted tostay.
Just then the phone on reception rang, startling us, Elliot even banging his head against the door. As the call went to voicemail, he and I looked at each other from the comfort of our embrace and laughed.
“You know what?” he said softly. “As much I dreamed about this happening with you, I never imagined it happening inhere.” He gestured to the room.
I laughed, my flesh goosepimply. Now the heat of the moment had passed, I was very aware of being half-naked in my workplace. “But what could be more romantic?”
“I want you in my bed, Lucie Clifton,” he drawled. I could only agree.
We threw on our clothes and made it out to the rain-soaked street, where, as luck would have it, a yellow cab was passing. Elliot hailed it, told the driver to head to Moore Street, wherever that was. No sooner were we in the taxi than we were kissing, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to not straddle him in the back seat. But, fortunately for the sanity of the poor driver, we kept the action PG. Soon enough, the car screeched to a halt, Elliot shoved a couple of dollar bills through the partition, and we were on the street, kissing yet again.
Joined at the lip, we staggered across the pavement and into his building. I was vaguely aware of some kind of warmly lit vestibule, thedingof a lift. Elliot dragged me inside and hoisted me up, legs around his waist.
“I can’t wait,” he moaned into my mouth, pushing me up against the lift wall so he could grind his length against mycore, sending sparks shooting through my entire body. His hand moved inside my shirt, about to free my breast from the lace covering it when the lift door opened again and we tumbled out, kissing furiously.
I was vaguely aware of being half-carried, half-dragged up what seemed like a twisting little staircase – I was too busy loosening his belt – to what appeared to be a mezzanine sleeping area consisting of a huge bed, sumptuous with a thick white duvet. He lowered me to the floor, where we wasted no time removing our clothes and I finally sawallof him.
“Elliot,” I breathed. He was perfect; there was no other word.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered hoarsely. “I need you now.”
Obediently, I lowered myself onto the bed and he watched my every move through hooded eyes, absently touching himself in a way that left me thrumming with want. I stretched my arms over my head, smiling, thrilling at the way his jaw slackened. And then his weight was on me, skin to skin. I felt like I might explode if he didn’t fuck me. He maneuvered himself, then halted. “Shall I get a condom?”
