Page 51 of Best Laid Plans
Elle knew the worst parts of him–or, at least, as close to the truth that he’d let anyone see. The broody and moody and sullen. The fourteen-year-old kid with a bad home life and an even worse attitude. The guy who showed up at midnight, to an apartment he needed to hide out in, with a busted lip and sore knuckles all he had to show for his last thirteen years on this earth.
“You’re so much more than I bargained for,” Elle whispered, and it felt like her words were washing all his past indiscretions away. Her nails scratched lightly against his chest, a pattern that both soothed and set him on fire.
And maybe they weren’t built to last. But in this moment, he could be the man that Elle thought he was. He desperately wanted to live up to the way she was looking at him, like those beautiful brown eyes were a kaleidoscope that blended all the versions of him together. And the craziest part was that she seemed to want him more because of it.
When he gave in, he was proud of his restraint in the face of the perfect woman pressed against him.
He kissed her then, dipping his head low and capturing her warm, lush mouth against his own. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, the way Elle’s lips immediately melted against him.
Sogoddamn soft.
A low groan escaped him when her hands wrapped around his shoulders, and she scratched at the nape of his neck in a way she’d already learned drove him crazy.
He could feel Elle leaning up on her tiptoes before she pulled his earlobe between her teeth, biting gently at the same time she sucked. His cock grew instantly harder, her soft breath ghosting across the shell of his ear. “I’m about to show you exactly how Ifeel about people who surprise me in good ways,” she whispered.
For all his thoughts a few hours ago about what exactly he was going to do to Elle, he was quickly realizing that it was he that was about to be taken for the ride of his life.
And he didn’t mind it one bit.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLE
Elle had never been so thoroughly fucked in her entire life. Every muscle in her body ached in the most delicious way, and she already missed the feeling of Cam inside of her, a strange emptiness that she refused to examine too closely.
Their night had ended as the sun was coming up, both of them passing out in Elle’s bed, sweaty again even though they’d started their evening in the shower.
It was still early–entirely too early to greet the day and all of its inconvenient realities–but after dozing off, Elle had woken up again, her frenetic mind keeping her awake.
Something had shifted between them. That was where her mind kept coming back to, regardless of where the thought started. She hadn’t believed that she was holding back with Cam before, but last night had been different. They’d connected on a level deeper than just the insane sexual chemistry that had been there from the moment he’d come barging, literally, back into her life a few weeks ago.
She peered over at Cam, sleeping soundly on his stomach, his long forearm draped above his pillow. Elle traced the scratches she’d left down his back lightly, loving how the pinklines contrasted to his skin. Liking how she’d marked him… like he washers.
“Idiot,” she said quietly to herself, looking quickly in his direction to make sure that he was still asleep. But all she got in response was his steady, rhythmic breathing that punctuated the silent room, like he was having the best sleep of his life.
Maybe, she’d just never come so hard, over and over again, that all the dopamine and oxytocin were throwing her off, making it feel like this was bigger than it was. Which would be for the best. Because this couldn’t be anything. Notreally.
Cam had made that clear from the start, which Elle had wholeheartedly agreed to–andmeant–a few weeks ago. And she wasn’t exactly in a stable place in her life. She’d only been applying to jobs in Boston, but if Reynolds Consulting didn’t work out, which was a pipedream at best anyway, it may be time to think about looking at New York or other major cities. At least if she was serious about her future.
Which… she was. Wasn’t she?
She pulled her comforter up higher and leaned her head against the fabric headboard. Her brother really did have surprisingly good decorating taste.
And ugh… Wyatt. She knew that if her brother got even a whiff that she and Cam were sleeping together, he wouldn’t like it. Which, at worst, said just as much about Wyatt’s taste in friends as Elle’s taste in romantic partners, but she knew that he wouldn’t see it that way.
Scratching at her forehead, she pushed the thoughts away. She had way bigger problems than Wyatt right now. Namely the beautiful, six-foot-something-tall adonis in her bed, whose bruises had finally healed on his now-unblemished face. His head was facing Elle, and she took a moment to appreciate his eyelashes, long and thick and giving him this almost child-like quality when he slept.
He looked so peaceful. So comfortable that for a second, Elleconsidered burrowing back into the covers and snuggling against a body that produced an ungodly amount of heat, which was perfect for how cold she liked to keep the apartment. Living with roommates, she always had to be conscious of the electricity she was using, her bedroom always a few degrees warmer than she liked.
But this, right now. It was perfect.
She’d only been home for two weeks, in a place that hadn’t even been her home in a long time, so why did Boston feel like a world away already?
She slunk down a little lower as she considered it, loving how the warmth enveloped her.
Cities were fickle things. Living, breathing organisms that were always shedding their skins, just like the people who lived in them. Elle had moved apartments, like a hermit crab outgrowing its shell. Her favorite Indian place had been replaced with her favorite Thai place when she’d moved neighborhoods. Regardless of whichever building she’d lived in, tenants–she couldn’t really call them neighbors–had been a revolving door of new faces who’d done an exceptional job at never making eye contact.
Elle had been gone for weeks now, and she doubted that anyone in her little microcosm of life had noticed. Maybe Raul at the corner store, but that’s just because she, like clockwork, had stopped in at the same time every day for a snack. A ritual during her study breaks when she’d been finishing up her MBA. But even that she hadn’t been doing for months. She had no co-workers anymore. And friends? Those had been gone since the days of Chelsea and Grant, except for an occasional MBA study group.
