9. Elise

CHAPTER 9

Elise

We stay in Chicago for dinner.

And for the next four rounds of sex.

Simon is… a god.

His mouth, his hands, his cock.

Whether he’s on top, behind me, or under me, the orgasms are guaranteed and the best I’ve ever had.

I knew he would be. And this is definitely part of the reason I didn’t want to sleep with him before. Simon is the kind of guy you don’t get over. The kind of guy you think about thirty years later with affection and an ache in your chest for what could’ve been, and probably some tingles, even three decades later, remembering the things he did to you.

I didn’t want that.

I still don’t, but clearly resistance is futile.

He’s the first guy I’ve let into this apartment.

He’s actually only the third person to be in this apartment. Luna and Dani have been here. I mean, it’s above Luna’s bakery and she’s my landlord. She owns the building and used to live in this apartment before she moved in with her boyfriends. I couldn’t really keep her out. But she visited as a friend.

It’s been a long time since I even let a girlfriend close. I’ve just learned the hard way over the years that people find my messiness a turn off. Or strange. Or gross.

I mean I get it. There’s I-didn’t-have-a-chance-to-pick-up-before-you-got-here and then there’s…what I’ve got. But I’ve accepted this. Does it mean I keep people from getting close? Yes. But I spent my childhood and teenage years trying to keep my parents happy and beating myself up about the messy condition of my bedroom, my locker at school, my inability to keep track of assignments, the fact that I was late to almost everything. I’m done with that. The ADHD is not my fault. This is just who I am. And with the medication and some coping mechanisms I’ve learned from therapy and online, I manage to adult adequately ninety percent of the time.

Okay, maybe eighty percent of the time.

But I also know that I have to know someone really well and trust them implicitly before they get inside my inner sanctum.

Or I have to be trying to push them away like I was with Simon.

But he’s still here. Despite the mess in my apartment, he managed to fuck me on three different surfaces. Sure one of them was my bed. But the couch and my sewing table saw action.

And he seemed to truly think having my dresses and shoes spread out was a good thing. When I kept refusing to show him every single dress I’d ever made, he decided to pull out the I’m Your Boss fantasy again and made me dress up in four different outfits.

He also seemed actually interested in what I do and impressed by the fact that I made the outfits that he found completely hot and stripping me right back out of.

I study him as he sleeps. He’s so beautiful. And charming, and funny, and stupidly fun and laid-back for a billionaire.

He’s too good to be true. Which has a partial wall still up around my heart. But he managed to smash half of that thing down in only a few hours.

I glance at the clock and groan.

It’s five-thirty in the morning. I have to get up.

I have a deal with Luna that comes with living in this apartment. I agree to be the one that gets up and gets everything started in the bakery first thing in the morning. It’s a perk to be able to walk downstairs in whatever I want to throw on and get the ovens going. It also knocks some money off my already ridiculously low rent.

But five-thirty in the morning is really fucking early, especially if you didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before.

Still, I grin as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the mattress. I don’t mind being kept up the way Simon kept me up.

I also know I’m going to be a little sore today. The way he worked out, bent me over, and stretched me out hasn’t been done in a very long time.

I feel a big hand slide over my hip and an arm wrap around my waist tugging me back. “Where are you going?” a husky voice with a British accent asks.

God, he’s sexy. “I have to go get things started downstairs in the bakery. But I’ll bring you breakfast when I come back up if you want to hang around.”

I really want him to hang around.

That thought hits me and my heart trips.

Yeah, I’m in trouble here.

And yes, I know it’s because Simon knows about my greatest weakness and is still here, being sweet, sexy, and charming.

“I definitely want to hang around. And it’s not just because of breakfast.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss. “Or I should say, what I’m interested in eating isn’t down in that kitchen. Hurry back.”

I shiver with desire. “I will.” Then, because I can’t help it, I lean over and kiss him. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

Then I quickly slip out of bed. I dress in loose, light blue lounge pants, and a gray tank top with no bra since no one‘s going to see me.

An hour later, I’ve got all the morning basics finished and cooling, and I head back upstairs with cranberry-orange muffins for Simon and to shower and get dressed for the day.

Simon is sitting on my sofa, in the one clear spot where I sit to read and work. He is scrolling on his phone, dressed in only his boxers, but seemingly completely happy and content.

Out of habit, my body tenses, and I look around, bracing to see that he’s tried to tidy up, or organize things in some way.

Every single person, except for Dani and Luna, has done that to me. My parents always did it, though my mother did it more to keep my father‘s blood pressure down. My boyfriend did it. Another boyfriend actually hired a professional home organizer for me. I wept after she left because I had no idea where anything was. All I saw were plastic bins everywhere. I even had girlfriends who did it under the guise of trying to help. They simply thought that I didn’t know how to organize things. They didn’t understand that if I put things away, I wouldn’t remember where they were, and wouldn’t be able to find them again when I needed them.

They also didn’t understand that all of their “help” embarrassed me and made me feel infantilized and like they thought I couldn’t take care of myself.

I can admit that my system isn’t perfect, but the more I’ve read and connected with other people who have ADHD, I realize that I’m not weird, or wrong. Our brains are just wired differently and we need to live however we need to live.

But nothing seems to be different. Just that I know I have a hot Brit sitting on my couch in his underwear.

Simon looks up at me and smiles that I-think-you’re-amazing smile that he seems to always give me. “Morning, love.”

God, his voice, the way he calls me ‘love’, just everything about him makes me melt.

A flash of guilt goes through my mind. I’m kind of texting with Aidan with the intention that we’re going to see each other. But I barely know the firefighter. He seems nice, he’s definitely hot, and he does seem interested, but we just met. I know nothing about him other than what he does for a living. And that he’s pretty cocky. He asked for my number after finding me making out with another man.

I almost groan. Yeah, then there’s that other man. But nothing is going on with me and Blake. Blake Wilder has very nice big hands and fingers that definitely know what they’re doing when they’re up underneath a woman’s skirt. But that’s it. He walked off instead of spending the rest of the night with me. He didn’t even want to stick around for a New Year’s Eve kiss.

But he texted you. He wants to see you .

Yes, I’m being flooded by texts from two different directions.

But Blake’s grumpy and not at all sweet, romantic, or even really charming like Simon and Aidan are.

Still, Simon and I just started this whatever-it-is. I didn’t know he was going to show up yesterday. I haven’t done anything wrong.

You should tell Simon about Blake and Aidan.

What should I tell him? There’s nothing to tell. You aren’t dating either of them.

Yet.

Shut up.

Great. Now the voices in my head are arguing with one another.

“Morning,” I say, giving Simon a genuine smile. “How do you feel about cranberry orange muffins?”

“Can I eat them with you sitting naked in my lap?”

I laugh as I hand him the plate with two muffins. “I have to get ready for work. So no.”

“Can I eat them while watching you shower?”

I laugh again. “They might get a little soggy.”

He laughs. “Fine. I’ll stay outside the shower curtain. We can just chat while you get ready. How long do you work today?”

“Just through the morning rush actually,” I tell him.

“Then what?”

“I was going to sew for a little bit, but I could be talked into something else.” I gave him a grin. “Except Turks and Caicos. I don’t quite have that much time.”

“We can do anything. Think of something.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Spend the day with you.”

My heart flips.

Okay. I might need to stop texting Aidan and Blake.

Suddenly, a loud squealing pierces the air.

I jump and frown, trying to place the sound. I turn toward the door, realizing the sound is coming from the bakery.

Simon is on his feet. “That sounds like?—”

“The fire alarm,” I fill in. I feel the blood drain from my face. “Oh…shit.”

Immediately I run for the door. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit !”

“Love, hold on,” Simon says.

I rip the door open and start for the stairs.

“Elise!” Simon’s loud, firm voice stops me two steps down.

I look up at him.

“Slow down,” he tells me. “You need to be careful. You don’t know what’s going on down there.”

“I know, but it’s the bakery. It’s obviously something I did. I was just down there!”

He comes down the steps. He stops on the step I’m standing on. “Maybe. But you still need to proceed with caution. You are more important than anything in that bakery.”

My eyes immediately fill with tears. “It’s Luna’s bakery. I can’t…”

Simon takes my hand and squeezes it. “It’s going to be okay. Come on. Slowly .”

He proceeds down the steps in front of me, pausing at the bottom to survey what’s going on.

My heart is in my throat. Luna has been one of the best friends I’ve ever had. If I damaged her bakery, set her kitchen on fire, did something to make her hate me…

“There’s no smoke out here, there’s no flames I can see,” Simon reports.

I take a deep breath as we both step down into the bookstore. “Okay.” I’m only partially taking in what he’s telling me. But it sounds good. His tone is reassuring, and I love that he’s holding my hand.

We head for the bakery side of the building.

“There’s smoke coming from the kitchen,” he says, pausing in the doorway between the two businesses. He turns to look at me. “Stay here.”

I grasp his hand tighter. “No. You can’t go in there alone.”

“I’m fine. I’m going to check it out. Stay here.”

A little part of my brain recognizes that he’s protecting me, and I love that.

The bigger part of my brain realizes that this man, who I really care about, is heading into a fire that I probably started. In one of my best friend’s kitchen.

I obviously cannot let him do that. “Simon, don’t?—”

Just then, there’s a loud pounding on the front door.

I jump and swing toward the door.

“Fire department! Open the door!”

There are firefighters gathered in front of the glass door and window.

Well, perfect.

I look at Simon. “Do not go into that kitchen.”

He sighs. “Fine. But I’m answering the door.”

I frown. “No, I?—”

“Don’t have a bra on.” Simon fills in just as he starts for the door to let the Chicago Fire Department in.