Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ellie

Boy, I really hadn't thought this through.

I wasn't nearly cool enough to be in this Williamsburg hotel lobby, which looked like Instagram had puked all over it. All the teak with brass fixtures, all the terrazzo, all the millennial pink and eccentrically shaped succulents. I was still in the clothes I'd worn yesterday, three thousand miles away. My jeans were so old the inner thighs were borderline obscene, and my navy Berkeley sweatshirt so worn that the drawstrings were shredded. I didn't have a raincoat, and black clouds loomed outside the windows.

But the name of the game hadn't been "Look Nice," or "Check Weather," or even "Think." It had been "Go."

It had been a kind of flow state, the race in Ben's station wagon to San Francisco Airport, the five hours in a metal tube hurtling across the sleeping country. When I got to JFK, the Lyft driver had been happy to hold up the conversation by himself, and I watched sleepy clapboard suburbs give way to renovated factories, Manhattan's skyscrapers dull silver across the East River.

Now the flow had run out, but it was like regretting the leap when I was falling fast. I was already desperate, already sweaty from hours of transport, already with my imperfect heart in my hands.

"Hi. It's Ellie," I shyly told my phone as it recorded my voice note, but a huge yawn distorted my name. "Sorry. It's Ellie. I'm here. Like, downstairs, in the lobby of your hotel in Brooklyn. But you know where your hotel is! God, I never want to take a red-eye flight ever again. Anyway, it would be nice to see you? If you want to hang?" My cringe tightened my hands on my phone. "Yeah. Let me know."

OK, sent.

One minute passed. Two minutes. Five.

The hotel elevators ascended and descended, and businessmen in skinny dark suits and a few early-bird tourists in tight jeans emerged, drifting toward a room at the far end of the lobby full of the sound of china and silverware and tired conversation. The hazelnutty scent of dark roast mixed with a rich, savory smell like someone was making omelets to order. My stomach gurgled at the thought of spinach and mushrooms and cheese, but exhaustion was winning out over hunger.

He still hadn't come down.

What was I doing? I hadn't even booked a room anywhere. Maybe if I pulled out my laptop and pretended to work, they'd let me take a nap sitting up, and then I could work out what to do.

I'd just rest my head in my hands for a minute. I closed my eyes and the world quieted to just the murmur of the clerks at the front desk and the low thrum of house music.

Then a door slammed, and rubber squeaked against marble.

"Ellie," Kieran said, skidding to a stop in front of me. His hair was slick and auburn with water, his green eyes spring-bright.

He knelt like the champion he was, and I could smell the clean white soap and pine on his skin. Callused fingertips brushed across my cheekbone. "God, it's good to touch you," he whispered. "I thought I'd never get to do it again."

I resisted the urge to close my eyes as yearning opened up inside me. I wanted so much more touch, so much more comfort. I kept my voice light as I said, "Someone told me once I should stop thinking and do something. So here I am."

"They sound really smart." His eyes found my mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

He asked like he thought he was dreaming, and all at once I knew in my heart that he would never, ever take from me without asking, and not without giving all of himself back. "Please," I begged, tugging him to me.

I was so tired, I must have dreamed how soft his mouth was on mine. The way I sighed when I opened my mouth to let him in. How his heart beat fast and strong under my palm.

No. He was real. We were real.

When we finally broke apart, he touched his forehead to mine. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming for me, for believing in me." He smiled. "But maybe next time, don't send a life-changing voice note when I'm in the shower? I almost broke my neck jumping down the emergency stairs."

"Why didn't you take the elevator like a normal person?" I teased, tears in my voice.

My Puck grinned at me. "Since when have we ever been normal?"

He was here . I hadn't ruined everything. A sob escaped me. "I'm sorry. I love you with all my heart, and I should have trusted you, and I was a coward, and I'm so, so sorry."

He kissed the tears trailing down my cheeks. "Love," he said, voice cracking. "That letter you wrote, that was brave. You being here is brave. I'm sorry I made you sad."

"No, I'm happy. I'm crying because I'm so happy to see you." I scrubbed my face. "Also because I haven't slept in twenty-four hours."

He rubbed my arms gently. "Come upstairs. Let me take care of you."

A flicker of caution in my chest. "We need to talk."

"First you'll sleep, then we'll talk." He tugged me up and grabbed my suitcase with his other hand, and all of a sudden, it was like I had permission to be totally exhausted.

"Hey, Kieran!"

A skinny, smiley dude in a fluorescent pink T-shirt strode over to us from the elevator, a tiny woman with platinum-blond hair trailing him. "Hey, man, I'm a huge fan. Can I get a selfie?"

Did Kieran just glare at him? "Thanks, but I'm kind of busy here, man."

"It's OK," I yawned. "Take a picture with him."

"No, Ellie, you need to rest."

The girlfriend tugged on the too-loud man's arm. "Oh my God, that's Ellie Wasserman . The woman from the Qui video. And the one he was talking about on Banquet ."

I winced and only just resisted the urge to bury my face in Kieran's neck. The last thing I wanted was to be papped while looking like what Floyd dragged in.

She stepped forward eagerly. "I love all the books you've worked on! How did you get such a cool job? Are you going to write your own book someday?"

I opened my mouth to demur, but then I looked up at Kieran. It wasn't just love that shone in his eyes. It was pride. "Thank you," I managed. "I appreciate you saying that. I really hope so." I took a deep breath. "You can follow me on Instagram and I'll keep you posted."

She grinned. "Wicked. We're going to go eat breakfast now. It was nice to meet you."

She dragged her protesting boyfriend away, the elevator dinged, and a giggle escaped me at Kieran's "Thank fuck for smart, self-aware women. Get in."

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I? By being here?" I asked once the doors closed. "Tobias won't be happy if you're distracted."

"Tobias doesn't represent me anymore," he said casually as he watched the elevator numbers tick up.

"Really?" I asked just as casually.

"Yup."

"Why not?"

He turned to me, steadfast and strong. "Because he thought you should be invisible. And there are thousands of agents, but there's only one Ellie Wasserman."

He chose me . What a sweet rush those words gave me.

The doors opened, and I trailed him down an endless gray hallway lined with black-and-white photographs of industrial Brooklyn. He swiped a card in one of the black doors and opened it. "It's not big, sorry."

"Bed," I said, looking at the king-sized tumble of white sheets and comforter in the middle of the room. I scrubbed my eyes. "No, shower, then bed."

"The important stuff." He nudged me into the bathroom, then knelt down on the black-and-white tiles and unlaced my sneakers.

"This is pretty sexy, you undressing me."

He shook his head, smiling as he stood. "I'm helping you undress because you can barely keep your eyes open. Arms up." He tugged off my clothing piece by piece and tossed it out the bathroom door, softly kissing the skin he revealed.

"I love you so much, Kieran," I whispered.

"I love you, too, Ellie. That means my job is making sure you have everything you want, starting with this." He turned me around and pushed me into the huge, glass-walled shower.

Gallons of hot water and dreamless hours of sleep later, I blinked awake. Rain tapped against the window, and bars of low gray light streaked across the bed and Kieran's chest where he sat in the armchair in the corner. I held perfectly still and just looked at him. His navy hoodie and olive-green T-shirt looked soft and welcoming, and new gray jeans fitted his legs just so. The Chucks were brand-new, too, and he'd traded black for a bright blue that made me think of jay feathers. He watched something on his phone while he rolled a stress ball back and forth along his thigh.

"Hey," I finally said.

He slowly pulled out his earbuds, put his things aside, and came to the foot of the bed. "Hey, love. Sleep well?"

"Yeah." I sat up a little. "Why are you smiling at me like I'm brand-new?"

"You almost always beat me out of bed in the mornings, before. I didn't get to see you soft and dreamy all that often."

What I craved hit me all at once: his warm skin against mine, his open-mouthed kiss on my shoulder, his hands giving tenderness and pleasure, as much of both as I wanted.

"Come here, honey," I said.

God, I loved his huge grin. "I missed being called that." He crawled up the bed, not even taking his shoes off. His kiss was full of sweet, hot promise, his beard rubbed like fur against my cheeks, and the sweatshirt was just as soft as it looked under my fingertips. I traced his shoulders, then tangled my fingers in the silk of his hair.

I nipped his earlobe lightly and he shivered. "Come under the covers," I coaxed.

The tip of his finger trailed along the edge of the sheet, and I shrugged to let it slide down.

"So tempting," he said. "But if I keep touching you, we won't talk." With one last peck, he sprawled out next to me on his stomach, resting his head on his arms. "I want you to go first."

"OK." I sat up and tucked the sheet around me. "My parents were deeply selfish, and I learned fast that I had to take care of myself and of Hank, especially Hank, because he was so much younger. I got really good at doing what I had to, instead of what I wanted. And then I met Max, who knew exactly what he wanted, so I didn't have to think at all."

I turned to him, a tear slipping down my cheek. "I thought for so long that wanting things for myself was wrong. I thought what I had with you was a guilty pleasure." I shook my head. "But it wasn't. I'd been starving myself to death, and you brought me back to life. You fed me, you nourished me, and I hurt you."

He reached for my hand. "I hurt you right back, love. I should have told you I'd stay, that we'd figure things out somehow, instead of losing my shit and leaving. I'm sorry I said all those horrible things."

I reached out and stroked his hair. "Thank you. But you helped me see that I needed to stop giving myself away without wanting anything back. That letting you love me"—I shook my head hard—"no, that enjoying you wasn't selfish. Because you are a gift, Kieran."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh yeah, I'm a gift. Santa thinks you've been a very good girl this year, ack!"

"And you say I'm such a smartass," I taunted as my tickling fingers reached for him.

He lunged for me, and after some token resistance, I let him pin me under his lean, strong body. His wicked grin became something softer, sweeter, and he rubbed his nose on mine and asked, "So what changed?"

I told him about Nicole, and the trip we'd planned, and the conversation with Ben.

"I knew I liked Ben," Kieran said. "He's scary, but I like him."

"Scary? He's a big teddy bear."

Kieran snorted. "I agree with the ‘bear' part." His voice lowered. "What do you want to do? Not, like, now. But the future?"

I ran my thumb over his jaw. "I want to be your lover and your partner. I want to support you when you open your own restaurant."

He smiled warmly. "I'd love that. I'm so excited to show you the plans for the new place, and I want to hear every little thing you think about it. But what about you, Ellie?"

I loved him for how he pushed me. "I want you by my side when I'm writing my own books." I took a deep breath. "I want to pick out flowers for us every week, and go on big adventures, and cook whatever we want when we want it. I want us to be free, together."

"Deal." He kissed me, and it tasted clean and fresh, a new beginning. "Now, can we make love, please? I was Ellie-less for weeks and weeks and it almost killed me." His voice was playful, and I couldn't wait to live my life with so much unfettered joy.

"Please," I whispered between kisses. "Please love me." It felt incredible to ask for something so precious and be certain that I'd get it.

He smiled. "Always."

But instead of jumping me the way I thought he would, he went slow. So exquisitely slow. When he kissed me, he memorized every millimeter of my lips, finding all the sweet spots that made me sigh. After a week he moved to my neck, lips and tongue and teeth conspiring to drive me crazy. After a month he got to my breasts, and now I was the fidgety one, my hips rocking and my feet pointing and flexing.

"How do you have any blood left in your brain?" I finally gasped.

After one more long suck, he stretched up and flicked my nose lightly. "How do I turn the smartass off?"

"Orgasms?" I suggested.

"Well, duh. I'm not done playing, though." But he reached down and stroked me a little, and his groan when he found how wet I was said that playtime might be over soon.

Finally, he said, "Lie flat for me?"

But instead of grabbing a condom, he moved off the mattress and knelt on the carpet. When he tugged my hips down the bed, I pushed up on my elbows and said, "Wait a sec."

He sat back on his heels. "Seriously, why won't you let me go down on you?"

His bluntness needed frankness back. "You won't like it. You'll need to go really slow and gentle for a really long time, and you'll get bored and frustrated."

His eyes narrowed. "You have no idea how I'll get." He grabbed my ankles and placed my feet so that my knees were bent, my heels right on the edge of the mattress. "This is my number one fantasy, your legs spread wide just for me." The way he looked at me there was almost feral. "You're soft, and pink, and pretty, and I want to eat you up."

I flushed all over. We'd talked dirty to each other before, but this was a whole other level. "Thanks, but are you sure?"

"Ellie, I want to lick you for hours. Aliens could land on top of the Empire State Building and I'd stay between your thighs. Now lie back."

He kissed his way down, wet and open-mouthed. And then he settled in between my legs, testing me with soft kisses and little licks until I couldn't stop moaning. It was too much and not enough, and I felt like I was going to die of the contrast. "Fuck me."

"Nope."

"Kieran."

" Ellie, " he whined back.

He sucked right there, and I arched up. "Why not ? Don't you want to feel good?"

"I feel fucking awesome. You're my queen, and I love being on my knees for you."

He went back to work, and my fingers scrambled for some kind of purchase on the sheets as he ratcheted my need higher and higher. He reached up with one hand and twined his fingers with mine, tugged until my hand was in his hair. The other touched me lightly, and when I raised my hips in invitation, he pushed a finger inside me and curled it, adding a bass note to the pleasure as he stroked in exactly the right place. But it was too soft. "Please, I want…"

His eyes flashed green fire. "What do you want? I'll give it to you."

I took a deep breath. "More. And harder."

" Yes, my gorgeous, sexy wild thing," he growled.

Then I gave myself up to his thrusting fingers, to his hungry groans, and finally, finally, my orgasm crashed through me. He kept his mouth and fingers there, drawing out the sensation with gentle strokes until I tugged him up. "Kieran, Kieran, Kieran," I sighed, boneless and sated.

"Yup, that's my name," he said as he sprawled next to me.

I grinned at him, dopey with endorphins. "I guess you deserve to go outside and beat your chest like Tarzan."

He licked his lips. "You'd be smug too, if the woman you love kept saying your name like you're a legendary sex god. But bare-chested? Fuck that, I'd be an icicle. Or a mancicle."

What could I do with my goofball but kiss him? His mouth was gentle on mine, but when I ran my hands up his back, tension radiated from every muscle. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me how to make you feel this good." I rubbed between his legs, and he moaned. "I could use my hands. Or my mouth."

A combination of a hiss and a rumble filled the air.

He sat up. "You're hungry."

"Hungry for you. How are you still wearing all your clothes?" But my stomach protested again.

"I need to feed you before you devour me." A tap on the door. "That's my cue." He pulled the sheets up and kissed me again, then went around the corner. I heard a tap running while he washed his hands, then the door opening and closing.

I waited for a room service cart to roll in, but he reappeared carrying a tray of coffee and orange juice, and a big paper bag.

"What do you have there?"

"It's New York. You can get anything delivered. Close your eyes." Some rustling, then, "OK, you can look."

He'd decanted coffee into mugs and poured juice into glasses. But the centerpiece was a pile of croissants, dark and crisp and so buttery I could smell them.

"Are those from Bedford Street Bakery?"

"Yeah. Best in the country, someone told me once," he said lightly.

I soaked in the sweetness of being genuinely cared for. "You remembered."

His smile could drive the rain away. "You're the love of my life. Of course I remembered."

Before I could respond to those beautiful words, my stomach gurgled. "Give it."

"Oh yeah, I love it when you tell me what you want," he said as he handed me a plate.

After I'd polished off one pastry and was halfway through a second, he asked, "Happy pastry?"

The laugh bubbled up around my mouthful of blackberry jam and vanilla custard. I swallowed and said, "Understatement. Ecstatic pastry. Delighted pastry. I-love-you pastry."

He cracked up. "Wow, strong words. All I had to do was bring you the finest croissants in the land."

I put my plate on the nightstand and crawled to him. "Please don't think you have to buy me fancy pastry all the time so I'll stay in love with you."

"What do I have to do?" He set his plate aside. "Spoil Floyd rotten? Make you shrimp for dinner every day?"

"Be yourself," I said.

His wolfish grin was gorgeous, and when I kissed him, his joy was buttery sweet on my tongue.