Page 39 of Unconventionally, Elle
"Sure," he said. The condo had an open floor plan. He walked behind me, leaned down to rest his chin on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around my waist.
A giggle escaped my lips before I could think to stop it.
Pointing, he continued. "This is the living room, kitchen's over there, and down the hallway"--he turned his head and whispered into my ear--"is one of my favorite rooms."
"Hmm, would that be your bedroom?" I teased, turning my face slightly, allowing my cheek to rest on his nose.
"No, of course it's the library, you dirty girl." He nudged me with his nose and our lips brushed against each other. "Mm, Elle, I love your kisses."
I turned my body in his arms and let my tongue brush against his.
He broke away, slightly panting, his gaze fierce. "Follow me." His smoky voice made my toes tingle.
I followed him down the hallway and into a room right before the library. His bedroom. Every wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, and the harbor sparkled in the moonlight. He picked me up in the doorway and kissed me desperately before placing me down on his soft black comforter. It smelled of him, it all smelled of him. Oak and white musk. My body was pulsing, I wanted him. Jude and I used to be something, but Barrett... Barrett was here. Barrett was now. That night, in his bed, I entirely forgot about Jude Ashford.
After sleeping over at Barrett's multiple nights in a row, I went home to my cozy little condo with its exposed brick and uneven wooden floors. As much as I loved his place--seriously loved it--it felt too... sterile. We were supposed to work together at the coffee shop this morning, but in true writer form, I was procrastinating. I started cleaning the kitchen, which led to the bathroom (somehow), and when Barrett texted me asking for my ETA, I was sitting on the living room floor organizing my bookshelf. To be fair, I firmly believed that the house had to be clean and organized before I could leave and go write; it was procrastination at its finest.
Barrett:Get your ass over here. Let's write.
Thirty minutes later . . .
Me:I'm on my way. Still have our booth?
Barrett:Yes, but the barista is eyeing me like I'm an asshole for taking up a whole booth when there's obviously groups waiting to take it from me. Hurry!
Me:Be there in a sec, see you soon. xo
I bustled into the café and saw Barrett right away talking to an aggravated group of four. From what I could hear, he was trying to explain that he wasn't alone. As soon as he noticed me, relief visibly washed over him like a waterfall.
"See, there she is!" His voice rose an octave, and he pointed in my direction.
I waved with an apologetic grin. "I'm here, I'm here. Sorry about that, guys. I was delayed." I smiled politely and took my seat next to Barrett, who gave a triumphant glare to the group leader, an old man with long gray hair pulled into a low ponytail. His curly mustache was truly impressive. At my official arrival, the man rolled his eyes in annoyance and stormed off with the rest following suit.
"Thank you for holding down the fort," I said sheepishly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here." I pulled my laptop out of my tote.
"My pleasure." He took a quick drink of his coffee and placed it next to his laptop.
"What are you working on this fine Monday morning?" I asked, curious. He had nothing but spreadsheets and figures pulled up on his screen.
"My dad and I have a big real estate investment opportunity coming up, and I'm going through the financials and such of the deal. Boring shit, really." He waved it off, clearly not interested in discussing it further. "You ready to write your bestseller?" he asked, looking over at my notebook I'd placed on the table with scribbles all over the page.
"Yep, right after I get my usual." I took a big breath and shot him a quick smile as I stood up.
"Honey lavender latte, hot, with almond milk," he repeated as if he were reciting a poem.
"Don't forget my dash of vanilla if I'm feeling fancy. Wait, I never told you my usual." I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes, along with a subtle pout.
"I have my ways." He gave me a devilish smile. "I just told the barista, who happens to know exactly who you are, that I was waiting on Elle Watson and that I would like to order your usual order. He said he knew what that was and that he was going to have it ready as soon as he saw you walk in. So I think that's it up there now?" He pointed to the pickup counter, and John, my usual barista, winked mischievously my way.
"You're good, B, you're really good," I commended him.
Barrett chuckled,thenhis phone vibrated on the table. He looked down and I saw his face fall.
"Sorry, Elle. One sec." He started typing furiously with his lips pressed thin.
I took that moment to turn and head toward John and my honey lavender latte. "Thanks, John." I grabbed my latte from the bar.
"Welcome, Elle. I like the new guy." John wiggled his brows while his lips curved into a playful smile.
