Chapter 3

3

ELLIE

A fter an awkward two hours of moving around Drake in the hotel room, I finally feel fully human again. A shower and a fresh set of clothes restart my brain and let me consider the situation fully without all the emotions coursing through me earlier.

Okay. So, we're sharing a suite. A honeymoon suite. Not ideal but not the end of the world either. Like I told Drake before, we'll be so busy I'm sure we'll see very little of each other. Usually, Drake would have me attached to his side at all times, but he's got multiple events on the schedule where he will be all on his own, flaunting his charisma and charm to the masses.

I, on the other hand, will be working to keep him on track and keeping all the plates spinning behind the scenes. Sort of like what I do on a day-to-day basis, just at a much larger scale.

I can hear Drake finishing up in the bathroom and take a moment to sink onto the chaise across from the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sun is nearly set, and despite the general fatigue of the day, I can't deny that the view is beautiful. Salt Lake City is surrounded by the sort of natural majesty that has Drake going on and on for hours, but I rarely have the time to soak it in myself.

From the top of the hotel tower, I can see the city lights and, beyond them, the Wasatch Mountains that seem to stretch forever. I'm lost in the view and almost jump out of my skin when Drake comes up to the window beside me. I've been avoiding looking directly at him since we got into the suite, and now that I do, I feel my heart stop.

He's showered and changed into a dark navy suit. His hair is damp, and the smell of his soap is warm and woodsy. I'm usually able to ignore just how good-looking he is during work hours, but right now, the sight of him is impossible to ignore.

He meets my eyes with a slight smirk, and I blush, knowing he's caught me staring. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he says, and I'm relieved that he doesn't tease me about my little moment of reverie.

"It really is," I answer, looking back at the view.

"You've never had much of a chance to enjoy nature, have you?"

I laugh at that. "No, not really, which I guess is ironic considering who you are. I've had my hands full trying to keep up.”

His smile widens into a grin. "It's your job to keep up with me."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, it would be nice if you made it easy for me every once in a while. Like maybe you could actually read your schedule for once?"

"My dear Ellie, that is exactly why I have an assistant. Now, believe it or not" —he sits on the chaise beside me— "I do remember that you said we have a mixer tonight, which is why you had this suit sat out for me, I assume. Are you ready to go?"

With a sigh, I look down at my own outfit. Business casual looks so much sexier on Drake than on me, but maybe that's because I'm dressing to blend into the background. As Drake's unofficial shadow, I try to be unnoticed most of the time.

Tonight, though, it's a little different. After a few glasses of wine, I packed my bags with an inflated sense of confidence. Instead of neutrals and pastels, I packed things to make me stand out. Jewel tones to set off my eyes, dresses that, while still appropriate for the events, hug me just a little tighter than usual, and strappy heels that make my legs look longer and shapely. Tonight I'm in a black high-necked sheath dress that stops just above my knee, but the slit in the back and the positively curve-hugging fit turn the basic into something much more daring.

It's not until Drake is in front of me, looking at me with an expression I've never seen on his face before, that I second-guess my decision.

"I should probably change, right?" I say, already making to step around him towards the closet. "This is way too much. I can?—"

Drake stops me with a hand on my arm, pulling me to my feet and closer to him. "Absolutely not. You look amazing. Don't let me tell you otherwise." His words are firm, and his voice deep.

My heart is thudding against my ribcage. The air feels electric around us. Drake is still holding my arm, and when I glance up at him, I see that he's staring at me, his gaze focused on my lips. I lick them without meaning to, and his eyes flicker up to mine, his expression intense.

I'm frozen. I know what's happening, and I want it so badly. It takes every bit of my willpower, and the undeniable fact that sleeping with my boss could cost me my job makes me take a few steps back. "O-okay, if you say so. Ready to go downstairs?"

Drake lets out a breath, his expression going back to neutral. "Sure. Let's go, Miss White." He stands, offering me his arm. I slip mine through his, and he leads me out of the room.

The elevator ride down to the ballroom floor is tense. Drake and I stand side by side, but he's pressed up against the wall, watching me. I can feel his gaze on my face, and my skin feels warm under the weight of it.

"What?" I ask, glancing up at him.

"Just wondering what's going on in that brain of yours," he says, smiling a little.

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Just thinking about what they're going to have to eat. I'm starving."

"I can guarantee it will not disappoint," Drake says as the elevator comes to a stop. "They always outdo themselves. Climbers like to eat. Last year, they had these mini egg rolls, which were great. I ate like twenty of them."

I smile at him. "I'll keep an eye out for those, then."

He gives me a smile in return as we step off the elevator. We head towards the ballroom, and he places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.

We get a few looks as we walk through the lobby, and I can't tell if it's because they recognize Drake or because they think we're together. Drake doesn't seem to care, though, and his confidence is contagious. I stand a little taller, letting myself enjoy being on the arm of a man like Drake Evans. With my hair slicked back into a low ponytail and my makeup fresh, finished off with a red lip, I don't feel totally out of place among what must be the elite of the climbing world.

The ballroom is packed, with dining tables dotted around the area and a long buffet table of small bites along the far wall. A bar is set up in the corner, with a bartender dressed all in black. The center of the room is empty, and I wonder if there will be dancing later.

My stomach grumbles, and I turn to Drake. "I'm going to grab some food," I tell him, and he nods, looking over my head as he scans the crowd.

"Sounds good. I'm gonna go say hello to a few people."

I nod and head to the buffet, grabbing a plate and loading it up with everything interesting I can find. I see the famous egg rolls and drop five on my plate for Drake, turning to go find him. Despite the hundreds of people here, I know I will be able to pick him out easily. Drake has an aura that is bright and warm to me, drawing me to him like a moth to a flame.

He's about ten feet away, but I only make it a few steps toward him before I see who he's talking with—a group of gorgeous women, skin glowing and arms perfectly sculpted. More climbers. My smile falls from my face and I exhale slowly, turning around, disappointment burning me in. I shouldn't be surprised. This is what always happens when Drake is out in public. Even when people don't know who he is, he just oozes this magnetism that draws everyone to him, including all these fit, beautiful women.

I don't understand it, and I don't understand why I feel so jealous when I see it. It's not like he's mine. But a treacherous part of me really wishes he is.

I spot a tall, empty table in the corner of the ballroom and make a beeline for it, setting my plate down. Picking at my food turns out to be a disappointment, too--I'm sure it's all delicious, but every bite tastes like ash on my tongue.

"Quite an appetite, eh?" A French-accented voice asks.

Shaken out of my reverie, I look up to see a tall man I don't recognize leaning on the standing table across from me. He's just a little shorter than Drake, with long blond hair pulled back from his face. He's pale, with a ruddiness to his skin that tells me he spends a lot of time outside.

I look down at my plate, towering with the food I planned to share with Drake, and groan internally. "Not really. I was supposed to share with someone but he's disappeared," I lie.

"What a fool. Let me help you. My name is Claude, by the way." He reaches across the table and shakes my hand. I notice his fingers are long and slender, and as he goes for a bite of food, I can't help but notice the all-too-familiar calluses on them. Another serious athlete, then, like Drake.

"I'm Ellie," I reply. I'm not sure why he's interested in me, but he seems friendly enough.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he replies with a smile. His name strikes a chord of familiarity in me, and I sort through what I know about the people at this conference.

Surprised, I stand up a little straighter. "Are you Claude Vanderhoven?" I ask. "You were a professional climber, but you became a documentary maker instead of a competitive climber?"

His eyes light up with delight. "I am. You've heard of me?"

I laugh a little, remembering. "No, but Drake has. I'm his assistant," I say. "He doesn't care much for cinema."

"Ah." Claude looks a little peeved but shakes it off. "Drake Evans is who you're referencing, then. It does not surprise me that he doesn't enjoy art. He has that neanderthal air about him."

Choking on a bite of my food, I snatch a flute of champagne off a passing server tray and take a few gulps. "Um, not really," I say, coughing a little. I don't know why, but I feel a little defensive of Drake. He might be a pain in the ass, but he's my pain in the ass.

"I don't mean to offend you," Claude says, flashing me a charming smile. "I'm sure you find him a pleasure to work for."

Taking another bite of eggroll to avoid answering, my eyes find Drake in the crowd again, talking to a woman with a tight skirt and low-cut top. He's nodding along with whatever she's saying, and she's laughing and touching his arm. The eggroll sticks in my throat, and I think about how much I want to be in her place for just a moment.

Claude follows my gaze and scoffs. "Looks like your boss is busy at any rate. Come, let me introduce you to my film crew. No one as lovely as you deserve to be alone."

"Oh," I say, unsure what to say. I'm not sure if he's being flirtatious, but I can't think of a way to make a smooth exit. "That sounds nice." Claude comes around the table, taking my hand and leading me through the crowd to where other people gather.

He turns out to be very good company. Claude has his film crew in stitches and even manages to make me laugh, even if I feel off-balance and out of place.

Now that I've entered the chaos of the mixer, though, I notice that I'm not nearly as invisible as I thought I was. People come and go from our little group, entering conversations and asking me thoughtful questions that have me forgetting my angst over my boss. Everyone is shocked I've never climbed, and they're obviously dying to ask me questions about Drake. Those questions I brush off, making it clear that I won't be discussing my high-profile employer.

It's been quite some time since I've had to socialize like this, but I find myself easily falling back into the swing of things, recalling parties in college and the endless networking events I had to attend once I graduated. Over an hour passes before I see a flash of navy out of the corner of my eye and turn to see Drake heading our direction.

His expression is odd. He looks angry but in a subtle, almost predatory way. When he reaches our little gathering, he all but shoulders the man next to me out of the way and slides his arm around my waist.

"I've been looking for you." His voice is gruff and low, rolling over me. His hand is tight on my hip, and when I look up at him in confusion, he just smirks at me and turns to Claude. "I don't believe we've met. Drake Evans."

"Claude Vanderhoven," the man says, holding out his hand.

They shake hands, but Drake's gaze doesn't leave my face. He's being so odd, the heat radiating off him. I can smell his cologne, familiar and expensive, and it makes my head feel a bit dizzy. I need to get some water.

"Your lovely assistant was telling me that you weren't the biggest fan of my work." There's amusement in Claude's voice, but it sounds fake to me.

"It seems like an acquired taste," Drake says.

I'm too shocked to do anything but stare up at him. His smile is sharp, and he looks every inch the cocky rake that he is. Claude clears his throat, obviously offended.

"I think your film is very touching," I blurt. "I haven't seen it, but I read about it in a magazine."

Claude beams at me and gives a self-deprecating little shrug. "A magazine, really?" he says. "Well, that is quite the compliment."

Drake's hand is burning into my hip. He hasn't tightened his grip at all, but he feels like a forge standing next to me. "I'm going to go get a drink," I say, feeling flustered. "Anyone need anything?"

No one does, so I turn and walk away, acutely aware of Drake following me.

I beeline to the bar, getting in line behind several other people. I'm still reeling, and it's all I can do to not whirl around and demand that Drake tell me what the hell he thinks he's doing.

When we reach the front, Drake orders a bourbon, neat. I order a glass of water.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Nothing stronger?" he asks, nodding to my glass.

"I'm on the clock," I say, trying to sound snippy. But I'm too confused to manage it. "You should know that."

The bartender hands me a tall glass of ice water. I take a big gulp.

"What the hell was that?" I demand after I've banished the dryness in my throat.

Drake, unsurprisingly, ignores my question and asks one of his own. "Have fun with your new little friend group?"

I scoff. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The little Frenchman. He seemed very eager to spend time with you."

I'm getting irritated. I'm so tired of Drake acting like he didn’t have a gaggle of girls hanging off him all night. "He was nice, and we had a conversation. That's it. I thought we were here for networking."

"We are," he says. "But we don't need to network with him."

I don't know why Drake has such a problem with Claude, and right now, I don't really care. "Well, did you have fun with your fan club? I think you've got a few girls who'll be up all night wondering if you're going to call them."

"I'm not interested in any of them," he says, his voice low and rough.

I roll my eyes. "Right. Whatever you say, Drake."

He downs his bourbon in one gulp, eyes blazing, body angled towards mine. The same electricity from earlier in the suite rises between us again, and it makes my breath catch in my lungs. "Stay with me tonight."

Now, I definitely can't breathe. "W-what do you mean?"

Drake looks around, and there is Claude halfway across the room. He's watching us, and when he catches Drake's eye, he smirks and raises his own drink in acknowledgment. When Drake looks back at me, his jaw is tight. "How about a bonus, Ellie? $1,000 if you don't leave my side for the rest of this bullshit event. Not as my assistant but as my date. What do you say?"

He's trying to get a rise out of me. I know it. And it's working. I'm so irritated, and I want so badly to tell him to shove his money up his ass. But then he says, "Ellie, please."

And something inside me softens. Maybe it's the way he says my name. Maybe it's the look on his face. I can't be sure. All I know is that I'm not leaving his side tonight.

Plus, $1,000 to be on the arm of the man I want anyway is a hell of a deal.

"Okay," I say. "I'll stay. But you're going to be on your best behavior, Drake. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am." He gives me a wicked smile. "Whatever you say."

"Good. And you owe me $1,000."

He chuckles and pulls out his phone. "Yes, of course. I’m positive you’ll be worth it, even if you are a little too eager to drain me dry.”

It's my turn to chuckle. "Oh, poor Drake. What a tragedy to be rich and famous."

He glances up from his phone, lips twitching. "You should know I've got a lot of expenses."

"Such as?"

"For one, I pay you a shitload of money to be my assistant. If you quit, I'd be completely screwed." He finishes the transfer and looks at me, green eyes full of mischief.

"If you're expecting empathy from me because of my salary, you're dreaming." I nudge him with my shoulder. "Now, show me how Drake Evans treats his dates. We've got two more hours until this thing is over."

A smirk touches his mouth. "Oh, Ellie. You have no idea what you just asked for."

I raise my brows and take a sip of my drink, determined not to show how excited I am at his words.

His hand slides to my waist, pulling me close. Immediately, I can feel the difference in our interaction, the intimacy in his touch that wasn’t there before. It feels like everyone in the room is staring at us, but I don't care. "Let's get to mingling, sweet Ellie. I've paid a pretty penny to show you off."

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips when he says my name. "You're so annoying."

It's not a lie. Drake is annoying. But being on his arm as he moves through the crowd, shaking hands and making connections with the most powerful people in attendance, makes up for the annoyance. He introduces me like I'm royalty, the word "assistant" never being uttered once.

This is a game, and I'm having fun. The night is going well. We laugh and joke with the other guests, and Drake's hand never leaves my body in any fashion for long, always on my hip or linking his fingers with mine. He treats me like something precious, and it's addicting. I like being on display. Even better, I like how people react when they see us together. They're surprised, to say the least. And if I'm being honest, a little jealous. I wonder if they think Drake is off the market now. The thought makes me giggle.

Drake turns to me, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I say, "Just enjoying myself."

He opens his mouth to say something, but then his gaze catches on something over my shoulder, and his expression falls. I try to turn around to look, but Drake holds me in place. When I meet his eye, he hisses, "Don't look, but Kate Nott is here. How in the hell did she get a ticket?!"

My mirth flees at his words. Kate Nott is what people call a ‘super fan’. In my opinion, ‘stalker’ is much more fitting. She comes to every event Drake attends and does her damnedest to run into him in public, too. Kate is obsessed in the worst way possible. In her mind, Drake is her soulmate, and nothing will stand in her way.

"Quick." His hand flies up to cup my face while his other hand pulls our bodies together. "Kiss me so she'll leave."

I have less than a second to process his words before my mouth blurts, "Okay."

I barely have time to blink before his lips are on mine. Drake is kissing me, and I'm standing frozen, eyes wide in shock. His mouth is hot and insistent, his body so close I can feel his heart beating. I'm stunned, but after a few moments, my hands reach up to tangle in his shirt. The kiss deepens, Drake's tongue running across my bottom lip. A groan escapes him, and I'm sure I'm about to go up in flames.

Eyes fluttering shut, a little whimper escapes my throat. I've wanted this for so long, and it's better than I ever could have imagined. Kissing him feels like falling, but the best kind. The kind where you know someone will catch you.

This could go on forever, and I'd be happy, but our location is suddenly brought back to my attention when someone yells, "Get a room!"

My eyes fly open, and I see Drake glaring at the man who spoke. His jaw is clenched tight, but when he glances over my shoulder again, he relaxes. "Good. She's gone."

Oh, that's right. We were kissing to get rid of Kate. Not because of some pent-up sexual tension between us that has been growing minute by minute. When his lips touched mine, my brain forgot about Kate Nott, mixers, or even the convention.

I feel like a fool.

But that didn't feel like a kiss for show. Not even close. The passion, the desperation. That didn't come from nowhere.

Pulling away from him, I meet his eyes. He's staring at me like I'm a puzzle he can't quite figure out. My breath catches in my throat. This is it. A question rises in my mind, but my lips refuse to form the words. I can't bring myself to ask what this means.

Luckily, I don't have to. Another one of Drake's acquaintances, this one drunk, comes from behind him and slaps him on the shoulder, dragging him away from me and into a conversation I don't even bother to pay attention to. Feeling lost, I start to step away, wanting to just go back to the room, but Drake's hand reaches out and twines his fingers with mine. It stops me in my tracks.

This simple touch says, 'I'm here. Stay with me.'

So I do.

When the mixer starts to wind down, he keeps his hand linked with mine, and we head towards the elevators. I'm exhausted, but the second the elevator doors slide closed in front of us, that exhaustion evaporates and turns into something else entirely. It's just Drake and me in this small space, holding hands, the very recent memory of our kiss making my lips tingle.

He doesn't break eye contact as he pushes the button for our floor, and the elevator lurches into action.

"That went … well," I offer, wondering which of us is supposed to pull our hands away first.

"Well enough anyway," he agrees. "I think we scared Kate off pretty good."

I smile at that. "Good. Maybe she'll finally get the hint."

I've said too much. His eyes flick down to mine, and my stomach swoops.

"Good, eh?" he repeats slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'll have to improve my technique if that's all the praise I'm getting from you."

The elevator doors open, and he steps out, tugging me behind him. I'm grateful for the cool air in the hallway. It chases some of the fog from my head, making it a little easier to think. He leads me to our door and fishes out the key card. My eyes linger on the place where his shirt gapes open, giving me a glimpse of his chest. He catches me staring, and my face heats.

"You're being awfully quiet," he observes, his eyes darkening.

"I don't have anything to say."

He pushes the door open and gestures for me to go ahead. "That's not true. You always have something to say."

I don't have a comeback for that. He's right. But I don't have anything to say now because I'm so distracted by his presence. It feels like the air is charged, like anything could happen in here, and the thought fills me with anticipation.

I kick off my heels, my back to him. I'm trying to find some semblance of control again. Then we're face to face with the single bed in the room, and I'm struggling to catch my breath again.

"I'll take the couch," he says after a moment, his voice low.

I nod, looking down at my feet, suddenly shy. I feel the heat of his body as he comes closer. He hooks a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. When our eyes meet, my knees go weak.

"Thank you for tonight, Ellie." His voice is soft, a contrast to his rough appearance. "You really saved my ass."

"Anytime," I whisper, trying to mean it.

He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, and my eyes flutter shut. I turn my head at the last second so his lips graze mine instead. His breath hitches, and my heart starts pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.

We're frozen for a long moment, eyes locked. Then he's kissing me, his hands cupping my jaw, tilting my head back. His touch is gentle, but his kiss is rough. My stomach tightens.

It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean anything, I try to tell myself. But then his tongue slips between my lips, and my mind goes blank.

I've never been kissed like this before. He kisses me like he needs it. Like he can't get enough of me. It's thrilling. I reach up, knotting my hands in his shirt and holding him against me. His body is hard and warm, and when I run my hands down his chest, his muscles ripple under my palms.

My hands drift lower, exploring the ridges of his abs as I work the buttons open. I'm so distracted by the feel of him that I don't notice he's walking us backward until my knees hit the bed. Then we're falling. He breaks the kiss and looks down at me, his breathing ragged.

"Ellie, I..." His voice is hoarse. His eyes are so dark that they almost look black. He trails off, shaking his head.

"What?" I ask breathlessly. I reach up to smooth his messy hair away from his forehead, but he catches my hand.

"Don't start something you can't finish."

My stomach tightens. Is that what I'm doing? I don't even know. All I know is that I want him. I want more of him.

"I’m not a quitter," I whisper.

He stares at me and then groans. "Fuck."

He kisses me again, rough and fierce, making my toes curl. His hands roam down my body, squeezing and cupping, and then he grips my thighs and pulls me closer so that he's settled between my legs. He's already hard, and I gasp at the feel of him pressing against me.

His kiss grows hungrier, and I can't get enough of him. My hands slide under his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. My fingers ghost over the ridges of his abs and his chest. There is not an inch of his perfect body that isn’t muscled and toned from the hours and hours on rock walls, and finally, getting to touch what I’ve only been able to stare at is such a sweet relief. Drake groans at my touch, giving me the slightest shiver as I stroke his bronzed skin, and it makes me feel powerful.

He breaks the kiss and starts to kiss down my neck, and I arch against him, my breath catching. He growls, his hands gripping my hips, and he pushes up my skirt. I gasp as his fingers brush my thigh.

Alarm bells are going off somewhere deep in my psyche, but I'm doing everything I can to ignore them. This is what I've been craving for so long, and I'm afraid if I hesitate even a little that it's all going to fall apart in my hands. But as Drake shrugs his shirt and suit jacket off and his hands get more insistent, the bells in my head go from ringing to screaming.

You have to tell him you're a virgin! the alarms yell. Virgin! You're a virgin!

Dammit. I am, aren't I? I'm buzzing from the high of being the center of Drake Evan's attention so much that I briefly consider keeping that embarrassing secret to myself, but the thought of lying to him hurts my stomach.

Dammit.

"Drake," I gasp, putting my hands on the hot skin of his bare shoulders and pushing him back just enough to break the contact between us. "Wait. Please."

Drake stops immediately, hands twitching with the need to touch, but his iron willpower wins over easily. He gazes down at me, eyes dark, concerned.

"Ellie? What is it?" he asks. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "I'm okay. I just ... I have to tell you something."

His eyes narrow. "What?"

I take a deep breath. My heart is pounding in my ears. I don't know why I'm so nervous about this. I mean, so I'm a virgin. It's not that big a deal. Except, oh God, this is so embarrassing. How do I even bring this up? I've never had to before.

"Just tell me," Drake says, his voice gruff. "Is this about Claude? That asshole is a complete moron. If he tried something?—"

"No, it's not about Claude," I say quickly. "It's just ... okay. So, the thing is..." God, this is hard. I wish I could crawl into a hole and die. I can't believe I have to explain this to my boss. I can't believe I'm doing this at all.

I can't believe that this could be my first time.

"Ellie..." Drake says, his brows furrowing.

"Okay, okay." I take a deep breath. Just rip the Band-Aid off. "The thing is, I'm a virgin."

He blinks at me. "What?"

I wince. "I'm a virgin. As in, I've never done anything. I'm a twenty-eight-year-old virgin."

His eyes widen, and his hands flex at his sides. "Are you serious?"

I nod. "Dead serious. I know it's weird and awkward and I'm sorry, but I just ... I felt like I had to tell you, you know? Like, it would be even weirder to just be like, ‘Hey, by the way, I'm a virgin’ when we’re both totally naked or something. So I wanted to tell you now. So that you could decide if this is something you want to do. I know it's kind of a lot, and I'm really sorry to put this on you, but yeah." I look down, unable to meet his gaze. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Drake says, his voice rough. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just surprised."

"I get it," I say, still unable to look at him. "It's fine. It doesn't matter, right? I mean, you're still going to kiss me, right?"

Drake chuckles, his breath hot against my cheek. "You're damn right. I'm going to kiss you." He sinks his teeth into the tendon between my neck and shoulder, just enough to make my entire body shudder in pleasure. "And it does matter, my sweet girl. It's the best damn news I've ever heard. You have no idea how happy that makes me."

I frown. "It does?"

He pulls back just far enough to meet my gaze, his eyes bright with desire. "Of course it does. To know that I'm the first man to touch you like this. Fuck, Ellie, you have no idea what that does to me."

I swallow hard. My mouth feels dry, my pulse thudding in my ears. "Wow, that’s just not what I was expecting.”

His smile is gentle, and I know I might sound like some kind of nervous, flighty girl to him, but for as cocky as Drake is, he's so patient with me right now it makes my heart lurch in my chest. "If you want this, then it's not going to change anything, Ellie." He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, my jaw, and the side of my throat, and I shiver at the sensation of his lips on my skin. "I'm going to make it so good for you," he murmurs, and I feel his teeth graze the fluttering pulse on my neck. "I'm going to take my time."

And he does.

Drake pushes my skirt up to my hips and drags his hand up the inside of my thigh, and I can feel my body reacting, my pussy clenching and getting wetter with every passing second. He groans against my lips when he reaches my center and feels my soaked panties, his fingers teasing me through the fabric. "So wet for me," he whispers. "My sweet girl is so wet."

"Drake," I whimper. "Please."

He chuckles darkly. "Oh, you don't have to beg," he says, his fingers pushing my panties aside and slipping into my folds. "I'm going to give you everything you want."

His fingers tease my clit, making my hips buck and my breath hitch. His thumb presses down on my clit while he slides two fingers inside of me, and my entire body tenses, pleasure coursing through me. I can feel myself tighten around his fingers, my body squeezing his touch, and he groans against my lips.

There's a tiny bit of pain from the stretch, and then it's gone as soon as it arrives, washed away in the absolute enormity of everything Drake is making me feel. I huff in frustration when his hand pulls away from my pussy, but then he moves down my body.

Drake's lips are on my collarbone, hands slipping the straps of my dress down my shoulders until I'm bare for him from the waist up. A string of curses leaves his lips as he sees my black lace bra, my nipples hard and visible through the fabric. His hands slide under my back, and he kisses my skin as he undoes my bra. I arch my back, giving him better access, and he growls low in his throat when the bra slips off, and my breasts are revealed to him.

"So fucking gorgeous," he whispers. His lips graze the curve of my breast, and his hand is hot and hard as it cups me, fingers teasing my nipple and making me gasp. "I've dreamed of seeing you like this for so long."

"Me too," I breathe. My hands move up to grip his hair. "Touch me, Drake. Please."

He smirks at me, the expression feral and full of desire. “Watching you walk around the office in those short skirts, your hair falling around your face while you type at your computer, bent over and just begging for me to fuck you..."

Any other time, his words would be enough to make me melt into a puddle of need, but the reminder that we are employer and employee is unwelcome right now. He must sense me stiffen because Drake looks up at me, considering.

"You don't like that, do you? Thinking about who we are to each other outside of this bed."

I shake my head.

"Then let me be someone else for you, sweet Ellie." His voice lowers into a growl that I've never heard before. Can this really be my Drake, the arrogant, always-grinning Drake Evans? "Here, when we're together like this, you can call me Daddy."

My lips part, and I can feel myself flush. He's watching me closely, waiting for a response. What should feel taboo just feels … right. It’s a pattern my lust-addled brain is starting to notice—everything with Drake feels easy. Feels right. If he wants to take care of me, give me everything here in bed together, to be Daddy to me, I can do that. I trust him. "Okay, Daddy," I finally breathe.

Drake's eyes flutter closed. When they open again, they're almost black with desire. "Fuck," he growls. "Say that again, baby girl."

"Daddy." I grin, liking the sound of that on my tongue. "You like that?"

"I love it."

"Good." I run my hands through his hair. "Now, why don't you take these off me so you can get better acquainted with what's underneath?"

Drake groans. "Yes, baby girl."

I like that nickname, too.

He kisses me again and slides my dress down my body, leaving me in nothing but my black lace panties. The cool air of the room hits my bare skin, and I feel flush, on display. Drake stands, his eyes raking over every inch of my body.

"Holy shit," he breathes. "You're perfect." He cups my breasts, and his hands feel rough and perfect against my soft skin. "I've thought about this for so long," he whispers, dropping to his knees so he can lick my nipples.

"How long?" I whisper, the words clipped when his tongue swirls around the tips of my breasts, the sensation going straight to my core.

"Too fucking long." He smirks. "Sit up for me, Ellie, and spread those perfect fucking legs. It's time for Daddy to show you how good it can be."

"Yes, Drake."

"Daddy."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he growls. "You don't even know what you do to me."

Slowly, he moves down until his hands are on my knees, his mouth leaving a searing line of kisses past my belly button. Lower until his lips meet my mound, still covered by my panties.

"Mmm, I think I'd like to see you wet for me. Let's see how soaked your perfect little cunt is for me, baby girl."

My heart pounds, and I watch him, eyes wide, as he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of my panties and slides them down my legs. He brings them to his face and inhales, groaning when he breathes in my scent.

"Drake," I whisper, shocked.

"Don't worry, Ellie." He grins, tossing my panties aside. "I'm just getting started." He cups my pussy again, spreading my legs wide. "Look at you. My perfect little baby girl. Do you want me to eat you out?"

Hearing those words from Drake’s mouth rocks me, lust roaring through me so hard that my head spins. "Oh God, are you really asking me that? Please, please.”

He smirks. "Please who?"

"Please, Daddy."

I feel so exposed, so vulnerable, but I couldn’t turn back now even if I wanted to. And oh, I definitely don’t want to. This is what I’ve been dreaming of. When he looks back up at me, he grins, and that expression is one I recognize. It puts me back on solid ground.

He drops down, his shoulders spreading my legs wide. My heart pounds, and I can barely catch my breath. My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for him. Drake looks up at me, his green eyes sparkling with mischief and desire.

He dips down and presses his lips to my inner thigh, kissing a trail up to my mound. I gasp, and he chuckles, the vibrations making me tremble. "Fuck, you're cute."

"Drake," I whisper.

"I'll take care of you, Ellie." He slides his tongue over my folds, his hot breath sending a shiver through my body.

Then he pushes my legs up and dives in. His mouth moves over my pussy, his tongue sliding between my folds, teasing my entrance and my clit. He's not gentle but thorough, mapping every bit of me with his lips and tongue. He's demanding. Dominating.

It's everything I've always wanted.

"You're so wet for me, Ellie. Such a good girl for Daddy."

It feels so good, so mind-numbingly incredible that I struggle to even speak. It’s like I lost all language as soon as his mouth was on me. "Yes, Daddy. Please don't stop."

He chuckles against my skin, and the vibrations make me shudder. "I'm just getting started." He slides his fingers through my slickness, circling my clit.

"Oh!"

He rubs me slowly, his gaze on me the entire time. I'm so wet. I'm so fucking wet. And he knows it. "I'm going to make you come so hard, Ellie. I want to know what your face looks like when you come. I want to know the sounds you’re going to make for me and only me.”

"Say it," he orders, sliding a finger into my hole. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to come, Daddy."

"How?"

"With your mouth on me." I'm so embarrassed, but he groans, kissing my thigh.

"Such a good girl for Daddy. So polite." Drake chuckles, dragging his tongue up my entire pussy and making me cry out before telling me, “I’m going to remember this next time you’re yelling at me with that smart mouth of yours.”

He dips back down and licks my slit, spreading me open with his fingers and sliding his tongue through my folds, teasing my entrance, my clit, my sensitive skin. He sucks my clit into his mouth, and I cry out. It feels so good, so intense.

"Daddy!"

"That's it, Ellie. Come for me. I want you to come all over my face."

He pushes a finger inside me, and I whimper. He adds another finger and crooks them inside me, stroking my G-spot. He continues to lick me, sucking on my clit, flicking it with his tongue. He's relentless, and the pleasure builds so fast, it's overwhelming. I cry out as my body starts to shake.

My orgasm takes me off guard, my back arching and my hands flying to grip his head as I hold on for dear life. Pleasure ripples through me, leaving me shaking and gasping for air, and I chant his name as I ride it out on his tongue.

When I finally start to come down from the high of it all, Drake kicks off his pants and climbs into bed with me. His cock strains against his black briefs, but instead of climbing over me like I expect, he takes me into his arms and buries his face in my neck, breathing me in.

"Ellie, Ellie," he sighs. "God, you’re incredible. Just let me hold you."

I melt, feeling like I'm going to burst into tears at any second, my emotions swinging like a pendulum from rapturous pleasure to the demanding need to just be comforted, cherished. This is everything I've wanted for so long. Being held by him, being taken care of by him. The knowledge of it hits me hard—lust is one thing, but I've been denying the truth of how I really feel. How wrapped up my emotions are in this man after a year of being by his side constantly.

Drake pulls back enough to see my face, looking into my heavy eyes as the intensity of what I just experienced sucks all the energy out of me. He brushes my hair from my face, gently kissing the corner of my mouth and my forehead. "Sleep, sweet girl. That's enough for tonight."

He turns off the bedside lamp and pulls the covers over us. I know I should get up, go to the couch, and pretend like this was just oral sex and not the earth-shaking experience it really was, but he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close again. Bare skin to bare skin, his heart beating next to mine—it’s almost much too sweet to bear. His lips brush the back of my neck.

"Goodnight, Ellie."

I close my eyes, unable to resist the call of sleep. "Goodnight, Drake."