Chapter 8

EIGHT

MAEVE

When the time came to see Elliot, I was completely unprepared.

Choosing what to wear on a fake date felt like torture. It was even worse figuring out what to do with my hair. After putting it up and then down and then up again, I went with a half-up style that would keep it out of my face but also look like I’d put in more effort than my usual messy buns.

Having a whole day pass between making plans and actually seeing Elliot only made me extra nervous and left me overthinking everything, including the plan I’d hatched for the evening.

He was going to meet me in the lobby.

We’d go out.

We’d stay in public, where social pressure would prevent me from losing my mind and groping him.

We’d eat food, proving that we were still capable of eating together without me running away.

Then I’d ask the big question— will you save my arcade, pretty please?

And in his heroic handsomeness, he’d say of course, saving people is what I live for.

As I rode the elevator down, I rethought every choice I’d made in the past twenty-four hours, and as a fun bonus, most of the choices I’d made over the last decade. So much for the pep talk.

And now my brain had me debating running back to my apartment and pretending I wasn’t home, which was ridiculous. I was the one who asked him to go out.

The elevator doors opened.

Elliot was there in a button-down coat over dark jeans, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes sparkling as soon as he spotted me. Basically, he looked delectable and he looked happy.

The stress strangling my heart loosened its grip. I forgot whatever it was I’d spent so much time worrying about.

“I like your hair like that,” he said.

Mental high fives for the half-updo. “I like yours, too.”

Wow, that was stupid. His hair was the same as it always was. It wasn’t really possible to style anything so short.

He grinned.

I quickly changed the subject. “The city’s tree lighting ceremony is tonight. That’ll be the perfect place to take a picture together. And we can grab some street food on the way.”

Elliot agreed. He was an agreeable person. I wasn’t used to an agreeable guy, but I totally appreciated it. Conversations with him were easy. Being around him was fun.

Outside, tiny icicles clung to towering buildings and glistened as they caught the final traces of daylight. Every footstep landed with a crisp crunch on the salted sidewalk. Every exhale began with a visible cloud of vapor, then rose and dissipated into nothing a moment later.

Walking side-by-side made it easier to say the words I needed to say. “Sorry about leaving like that the other day.”

“Don’t be. I had a great time. I was the one who screwed things up. I’m sorry I scared you away.”

I could feel him looking at me, waiting for me to respond. What was I supposed to say to that? That he didn’t scare me away? He did. I did? We did. I wasn’t sorry we kissed, though. I loved kissing him. I would love to be kissing him now instead of having this conversation.

“You didn’t screw up.” Smooth transitioner that I was, I said, “What’s your favorite fish?”

“To eat or to look at?” he asked without skipping a beat.

“Look at.”

“Goldfish.”

“Interesting.” I figured he’d say something fancier and more exotic. “What about to eat then?”

“Goldfish.”

I laughed. “Like a cat scooping them out of the fishbowl?”

“Like a toddler tossing his favorite snack cracker up into the air and catching it in his mouth. Though they’d be good from a fishbowl, too, so long as there wasn’t any water. Can’t recommend soggy crackers.”

“I did not see that coming.”

The sound of carolers singing “Winter Wonderland” reached us as we turned onto the final block before city square.

Elliot bumped his arm into my shoulder. “What about you?”

“Pufferfish to look at. Red drum to eat.”

“Solid choices. Have you ever eaten pufferfish? It’s supposedly a delicacy.”

“Never. Too afraid of the poison. Plus, they’re too cute.”

“Cute, huh?”

“Cute and awesome. Who doesn’t love a big ball of spines?”

He smiled at me, and glanced at my hand. We were so close together, brushing sleeves back and forth…was he thinking about holding my hand? Did I want him to?

Yes, I think I did. But, after the kissing debacle, he probably wouldn’t make a move. It was up to me.

As we rounded the corner, I went for it.

A life of gaming perfectly prepared me for this moment—super dexterity, maxed out eye-hand coordination. Each of my fingers slipped into the spaces between his in the perfect clutch.

Because of the scene appearing before us, the timing was even more clutch.

A massive tree dominated the center of the square. A small stage sat in front of it, while carolers flanked its sides. Food stalls lined roped-off streets at the edges of the space. Laughter and conversations bounced around the crowd, disrupting any comment Elliot may have been about to deliver.

We stepped into a breathtaking winter celebration, but it was the feeling of Elliot’s hand on mine that stole my breath. His palm was warm and big and wonderful. He squeezed, assuring me that he was as eager to touch me as I was to touch him.

I didn’t say a word as we weaved through the crowd toward the food carts. He didn’t either. The only problem was now that it’d be difficult to maneuver my wallet out and pay for my food with just one free hand.

I let him go to do that, though, because it was important to me to pay. For good measure, I paid for us both. After, Elliot offered to buy a bag of fries and drinks at the next stall down. I could never pass on sweet and salty mesquite fries.

We settled into a spot toward the back of the square. There, we sat next to each other on a cement wall and dug into our food.

The toppings made the hotdog sing—peppers and onions and a really great spiced mustard I would love to buy bottled. But it was the fries that I couldn’t stop popping.

“You told me before that you love your job at an arcade.” Elliot bumped his knee into mine. “What’s it like?”

He didn’t pull away. Neither did I. Our legs just touched like we had magnets in our knees and those magnets were only happy when they were pressed together.

“It’s the best. The arcade is old. It has history and the classics, but also newer machines, too. And I always get to sleep in because we never open early.”

“Sounds perfect for a gamer.”

“It is. I get to hang out with kids that I don’t have to keep and play games. I’ve learned a lot over the years about maintaining the machines with my mentor. I never thought I’d be into the mechanical stuff, but it’s really satisfying.”

“Sounds like me and my grandfather with the Bronco.”

“Yeah, exactly.” And this was my opening to bring up the arcade’s funding issue. All I had to do was ask Elliot if that was something he could help with.

Except… what if he said no?

My stomach turned into a rock.

I forced another fry into my mouth. I hardly tasted it. “Tell me more about your work.”

“What would you like to know?”

“How did you get into real estate investment?”

His expression was thoughtful. “It’s like you said, I’m nostalgic for old things. Oldbridge District is where my grandparents lived, where my Gram still lives. I spent so much time there growing up, it feels like home. I hate seeing the buildings crumble, the sidewalks crack, and people being pushed out of the places they raised their children because they can’t afford to stay.”

That was pretty much the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.

I liked Elliot.

I hadn’t been prepared to like anyone the way I liked him, not so soon, maybe not ever.

He couldn’t say no to helping the arcade because he was the kind of person who cared. He wouldn’t want to see Otto lose the place he’d spent his whole life building. He wouldn’t reject the place that was my home, and by extension, me…right?

The mayor’s voice boomed through the speakers at the base of the stage. “Welcome, everyone, to our annual tree lighting ceremony. It’s a joy to see so many of you here tonight to celebrate. Epiphany’s not only the fastest growing entertainment city in North Carolina. It’s the fastest growing city of creative opportunity in the entire country.”

The crowd cheered.

“During this season of joy, let us come together to lead the country in not just growth, but compassion,” the mayor said. “Reach out to your neighbor. Let these lights guide us to brighten each other’s lives.”

I shivered from the cold.

Elliot leaned in. He put his arm around my shoulder, sharing his body heat and immediately making my body create a whole lot more heat of its own.

The mayor continued his speech, but none of the words registered beneath the pounding of my pulse and the all-over awareness of how Elliot’s body felt against mine.

His arm was firm, his grip gentle. He was so warm and big and perfect for cuddling against. We fit so perfectly that it was like this little nook was made just for me.

In the blink of an eye, the world shone ten times brighter.

It took me a moment to realize it was the tree and not just Elliot’s presence making the world brighter. I also realized that this fake date was the best date I’d ever been on, which struck me with a mix of emotion I wasn’t sure how to process.

I nodded toward the tree. “This feels like the perfect set up for a picture.”

Elliot pulled me in even closer, so there was no space between our sides at all. All the air left my lungs. All the thoughts left my brain.

“We’ll have to stand to get the tree in the background behind us.” Elliot’s chest rumbled as he spoke.

I could feel his words. They resonated through me, slowly spreading from my chest down to my toes.

He let me go and hopped down from the wall.

The cold bit across my back and shoulders where his arm had been. It bit my cheeks and my ears and my nose.

I hopped down, too, searching for playful words but finding none.

I stood next to Elliot with the tree behind us, holding out my phone. The angle was all wrong, but my mind felt too foggy to figure out how to fix it.

Then he put his hand on my side, just above my hip. Even through my coat, the contact sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through my veins.

“May I?” he asked.

I handed over my phone.

On the screen, we looked like we could just be two friends enjoying each other’s company. It felt deeper than that.

He snapped a pic. In it, we were both smiling.

There was no reason to do anything else here. This was exactly what I’d told him we’d do. We’d come, we’d eaten, we’d taken a picture.

I felt his grip loosening, and every inch of me screamed to stop him.

“Maybe we should take another one with a kiss on the cheek,” I said.

I went to give him a peck.

At the same time, he turned toward me.

Our lips met.

The shock made my whole body stiffen.

“I thought you wanted me to kiss your cheek,” he whispered against my lips.

“Yeah. No. This is good.” It wasn’t, but it could be. It was good last time. I kissed him again, another peck, but this one purposeful. “Even better.”

And then we were making out. There was no way to know how it happened. It was an inevitable force of nature. The magnets weren’t just in our knees, apparently. They were in our mouths, and in our hands, and in our pants.

I forgot what it was I was supposed to be pretending.

I forgot about the world beyond the warmth of his mouth, and the possessive flex of his arm that was now wrapped around me.

I just enjoyed the magic, the way my body melded perfectly against his, and how perfect the entire moment felt.

And then he pulled back.

And my entire skin was sparking and I wanted to pull him back to me.

Except we were in public.

And I wasn’t supposed to be acting like this.

I wasn’t supposed to think that this fake date was the best date of my life, or that somehow this kiss was even better than the last.

He handed me my phone.

And the photo there was proof that I’d completely lost control.

I’d been lost in the kiss, while he’d had the sense of mind to take a picture…exactly like I’d said I wanted.

I forced a smile, my fingers shaking. “Great. You caught the perfect shot.”

It was too vulnerable. I could never post this online.

“We should head back,” I said.

“He’ll be jealous. Any man would be.”

Right, because I’d told him this was supposed to be about Bradford. It wasn’t. Not anymore, maybe not ever. What was I doing? All of this was supposed to be pretend. Except I’d never really believed that.

Elliot shoved his hands in his pockets. His usual easy smile and kind eyes felt so distant, I feared I’d never see them again.

This was wrong.

We didn’t really talk the rest of the way back. I didn’t ask him to come back to my apartment with me, even though that was what I wanted.

And I didn’t realize until I sank into my couch that I’d completely forgotten to ask him to help me save the arcade.

Which could not wait, even another moment.

I raced back into the hall, went downstairs to his apartment, and knocked.

A moment later, he opened the door.

He had no right to look so good, or to make me feel all the things he made me feel. I wanted to be numb, but when I was close to Elliot, I couldn’t seem to remember that part.

Every conversation we volleyed back and forth made me feel alive.

And then that kiss. That. Kiss.

It was everything I never thought possible, just like our first. I imagined the same could be said for every future kiss, too.

“Maeve.” Surprise lifted his voice.

The pleasantness of it coiled through my chest and brought a lightness and sureness I hadn’t felt before.

“I forgot something.” This was where I was supposed to talk to him about important business, but all I could do was stare at his mouth. All I could do was want him, every single bit.

I grabbed his face and I kissed him.

He felt solid beneath my hands, soft beneath my lips. He only hesitated for a moment before kissing me back.

I clung to his shirt, and breathed in everything Elliot. I loved the way he smelled—clean and masculine and real. I loved the way he was always on my side. I loved how he was a distraction so I could escape my step-brother’s wedding and a partner in crime for my payback. I loved the way he made me feel like I was enough, exactly the way I was, instead of trying to pressure me into becoming someone else.

I wanted to hold onto those feelings as long as possible. That’s why I’d wait a little longer before asking for his help with the arcade. That’s why I didn’t want to stop revenging. It felt like a game, where he was my player two, and together we were winning. That’s why I didn’t want to let go of him now, even for a second, even as our feet were moving and he drew me into his apartment.

I wanted to keep chasing the high I felt when he was close. I craved more of that feeling, more of him.

We were still moving, him leading me deeper into his space.

I broke the kiss to regain my bearings, and found us in his living room, heading for the sofa.

“Any idea where we can find it?” he asked.

“What?”

“The thing you forgot.”

“Right. I think I’m going to need more time to search.” I kissed him again.

He pulled me down gently onto the sofa with him.

I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He kissed me deeper. I could feel that he was hard, so hard for me.

I rocked over him, needing friction.

“Tell me…” He gave me a peck on the lips. “Exactly what you want, Maeve.”

I pecked him back on the lips, then peppered more kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, his chin. I wanted to kiss him everywhere. “It’s been a long time for me. I want to feel good.”

He ran his hands down my back, squeezed my ass, and pressed me harder against his erection. He groaned so deep that I could feel it everywhere.

I ripped off my coat and tossed it to the floor.

Elliot moved his hands up my sides and ran his lips over my neck. He put one arm around me, the other hand teased against my ribs. “This can’t be like last time. You told me I didn’t screw up when I kissed you.”

“You didn’t.” I grabbed his hand and held it to my breast.

“You ran.”

Yeah, that wasn’t my best move. “I’m not running now.”

It had been so long, too long, since a man made me feel an inkling of this kind of pleasure. And he’d barely touched me.

He massaged my breast through my clothes and dragged his teeth just below my ear. And then he sucked on my neck.

I was like a two-liter bottle of soda in a tornado, only a touch from exploding. It felt ridiculous and scary and wonderful all at the same time. Part of me wanted to keep quiet about it, like being sexually deprived was a shameful thing.

But it wasn’t. And I trusted Elliot.

He kissed my neck and scraped his teeth over my ear.

I gasped. “I could come like this.”

“Show me.”

I kept the rhythm rocking back and forth over his erection, riding out the sensations. He used the arm around me to tighten the pressure. He used the hand on my breast to find my nipple and give it a gentle squeeze.

Heat coiled through my belly.

I closed my eyes and I breathed him in. I tucked away thoughts of meaning and future and consequence in the recesses of my brain. All that was left was courage and pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful, Maeve.”

One line, nothing that should feel crazy to hear under the circumstances, and I fell apart. I held tight to him as the orgasm washed over me. Then I held onto him some more.

He kept his arms around me and didn’t let go. I hadn’t realized I’d needed to be held like this until he did it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded. I was better than okay. I was happy, and also still ready for more. “Can we go to the bed? “I don’t think we should have sex yet, but I’d like to come again and I need to see you naked now.”

He chuckled, scooped me up, and whisked me to his bedroom, where he proceeded to strip off his clothes for my visual pleasure. For the sake of fairness, I stripped too, keeping on my bra and panties, because having some line where we needed to stop was important.

This was so much so fast, which is what I wanted. But I needed a guardrail even if it was an arbitrary point, to keep me from falling completely out of control, especially once I beheld the glory of his nakedness.

He climbed into the bed and lay down next to me. Then we just touched, explored, and learned each other.

“I like this freckle.” I poked him right above his very large and imposing cock.

He ran a hand over my bare thigh. “I like how soft your skin is.”

For how rushed and wild everything physical between us so far had been, this was slow and reverent.

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock.

He pulled me up against him, and I hooked my leg over his hip.

He slipped a hand in the back of my panties, reaching around to the front and gently stroking my clit, never taking his eyes off of my face. “I like how wet you are.”

“I like how big you are.” It was the biggest I’d ever seen. “Kind of. Maybe. It’s scary.”

He laughed, then he crushed his mouth over mine.

He tasted like mesquite fries and secret winter wishes. He felt like silk over steel in my palm.

I wanted him closer, to feel him inside of me, but that meant giving up the only guardrail that was protecting me. I stood on the edge of that guardrail, tottering against a winter gale, halfway hoping it would push me over.

We touched and stroked and laughed and kissed until nothing felt scary, until the worries and every other thought beyond this moment melted away.

I melted, too, beneath his touch.

The friction was perfection. I rode it higher and higher, working to focus on him instead of falling limp while the pressure built. And then it sparked, sharp and wonderful, and I unraveled.

He groaned like he’d been waiting for me to come first, like he couldn’t let himself let go until I was there. Now we were there, together.

It wasn’t like any experience I’d ever shared with a man. It felt like we were the perfect team, like we were always meant to be doing this together from the moment we met.

We lay together, sated. We cleaned up together after. Then, content, we fell asleep together.