Every Part of You: Denies Me (#4)

by Megan Hart

After a moment, he did, too. Should he have kissed her already? After their last official “date,” when she’d given him the brush-off at her front door, Elliott hadn’t been sure what to expect. Their phone and text conversations hadn’t changed. It wasn’t like she’d stopped answering him. And she had agreed to go out with him again.

  “Do you want me to kiss you, Simone?”

  She hesitated. “Umm, only if you want to. I mean…”

  He kissed her, bending to reach her mouth while she didn’t move from the chair. She parted her lips at the touch of his, and one of his hands went naturally to cup the back of her head. He kept his other hand from going where it wanted to go, though.

  She still had her eyes closed when he pulled away from her, but she was smiling. “Mmm. That’s nice.”

  “It’ll still be nice when you taste like garlic.”

  She opened her eyes, then. “Elliott. You … are … so surprising.”

  “Is that a good thing?” He went to the stove to add some olive oil to the pan, along with some chopped scallions, mushrooms, fresh tomatoes, and yes, a lot of garlic.

  “It can be. Are you sure I can’t help you?”

  “I got it. You sit.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I wish it were more impressive.”

  Simone laughed. “Listen. Anything you make for me is going to be impressive because you took the time to do it for me.”

  “What if I’d made you a tuna sandwich and macaroni and cheese?”

  “I’d love it,” she told him.

  He believed her.

  With the meal on the table, they both dug in. Simone oohed and ahhed over the pasta and homemade sauce, and even though the garlic bread had come out of a foil packet from the freezer, she praised that, too. The simple salad he’d tossed together with Molly’s recipe for homemade vinaigrette dressing made her sigh with delight.

  “This is amazing, Elliott. Really.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, leaving behind a crimson smear.

  He liked her mouth better naked. Soft and lush, ready for kissing. He knew he was staring, but couldn’t stop himself, or maybe didn’t want to badly enough.

  “It was my father’s wife’s favorite.” He stabbed some greens, dragging them through the dressing. “She taught me how to make it. Said that if I could learn how to make a good salad dressing, a marinade, and a pasta sauce, I was fit to live on my own.”

  “She was right.” Simone dunked a piece of garlic bread in the sauce and nibbled it with another appreciative, ecstatic little sigh.

  It was so close to the noises she made when she was making love that he had to shift in his seat to cover the sudden throb in his cock. “I thought we could watch a movie after dinner. If you want to.”

  “Hmm.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “Is that your way of trying to get me to make out with you?”

  “Will you? If I slide my arm along the back of the couch real subtle-like, maybe pretend I’m yawning?”

  She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. She had a great laugh. A great smile. And, because he wasn’t used to making women laugh, Elliott discovered that he wanted to keep doing and saying things that urged Simone to giggle.

  He mimed a huge yawn and stretch. “Like that?”

  She giggled again. “Oh. Very good. I’d never fall for something like that, though. No way.”

  “I can be pretty persuasive.”

  “Oh. No doubt.” She helped herself to more salad. “You are a panty dampener for sure. A player.”

  He paused at that. “That’s what you think about me, huh?”

  She looked up from the bowl of salad, then set it down carefully. “Am I wrong? I thought we’d sort of established that already.”

  “You mean because I date a lot of women.”

  She shrugged.

  Elliott frowned. “Simone. Does that bother you?”

  “It didn’t used to,” she said slowly. “Before.”

  They stared at each other across the table. If he told her that he hadn’t been out with any other women since the night he’d taken her to Barry’s party, it might give her the wrong idea. Except, he thought, was it wrong?

  “I’m not a player.”

  She laughed at that. Loudly. Tipping her head back, then shaking it as she stared at him with shining eyes. “You are so full of shit.”

  “I’m not!” He protested. “Dating a lot of women doesn’t make me a player, Simone. I never lied to any of them. I never made the promises. I never led them on.”

  Her smile faded a little as she stared at him. “I don’t expect you to make me any promises.”

  Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He got up to serve himself another portion of pasta and sauce, to give himself something to do so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

  “I like you, Elliott.”

  He turned, glad for the distance between them that made this conversation seem a little more casual than it actually was. “I like you, too, Simone.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  “Good,” he added.

  “I haven’t liked a guy this way for a really long time.” She took a deep breath. “And I don’t want to fuck it up. That’s all.”

  “What makes you think you’re the one who’s going to fuck it up?”

  She eyed him. “Well. It could be you. I mean, either one of us could. Neither of us are the best relationship material.”

  “What a vote of confidence.” He burst into low laughter, shaking his head. She was like no woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t get enough.

  “I’m not really the kind of girl who gets all caught up in stuff just because of sex, I promise you I don’t. I’ve had lots of sex without dating.”

  He frowned, not wanting to think about her with any other men, which told him more than anything else how she made him feel.

  “But then you wanted to go on dates.” She took a deep breath. “And I thought, well, we could try it a little bit, it doesn’t have to mean anything. But the truth is, Elliott, that I like you so fucking much, and I want to fuck you again, because it was amazing and fantastic and oh my god, the thought of never having you naked inside me again is enough to make me crazy, so then I overthink it, and I didn’t want this to end up out of control, so I just thought if we were going to date, that we should you know, take our time.”

  “And not fuck?” he said slowly, wondering how in the world the conversation had ended up here.

  “Oh … god, no,” Simone said. “To tell you the truth, I want you so much right now, it’s all I can do not to jump across the table right now and fuck you right here.”

  * * *

  Elliott fixed her with a slow, broad grin that was so sexy it made her squirm. “I’m not sure I’m seeing the problem with this.”

  Simone groaned. He laughed. She lifted a brow.

  “I make you laugh.”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” he offered. “I’m laughing with you.”

  Simone fixed him with a look, but didn’t say anything. She sipped wine to give her mouth something to do while her brain tried to think of the right words. There were too many, and all of them jumbled.

  “I like you, too,” he said in a low voice, finally. “And I haven’t liked a woman this much in a really long time. Maybe really never.”

  “Oh, no,” she groaned and covered her eyes again. “Oh, ugh.”

  “What? What’s the problem with that?” He sounded exasperated, and she couldn’t blame him.

  She was being a nutcase. She peeked at him through her fingers. “It was different when I thought we were just gonna, you know, screw.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I thought that’s all it would be, too. But then when you came home from that other guy’s house—”

  “Aidan and I haven’t slept with each other since before I met you in that elevator,” Simone said.

  “So you didn’t…”

  She shook her head.

  “But you said … “ he trailed off again, frowni
ng.

  Simone pointed. “I didn’t say I did. You assumed it. And I was mad that you would, or that you felt like you had the right to judge me on it, when you’d been the one to say you didn’t want this to be a thing.”

  “I didn’t want to think about you with anyone else. That’s all.” Elliott frowned, looking a little confused. He shrugged. “Believe me, I don’t get it either.”

  Simone took a deep breath and decided to come clean. Own it. “I’m an emotional person, Elliott. When I love, I love hard. That’s all. And I know myself. I don’t want to get hurt. So I haven’t really dated anyone in forever because I didn’t want to get entangled in something that wasn’t going to work out. But I love sex. I mean, I really love it.”

  “What’s not to love?” Elliott grinned.

  Simone pointed. “See? That there. That smile. The way you make me laugh. That’s dangerous, right there. That’s the sort of thing that will end up bad for me.”

  His expression grew guarded for a second. “You think I’m bad for you?”

  “I think I could get lost,” she told him quietly. “And I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.”

  “Do you wish we hadn’t had sex?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Do you wish we hadn’t started dating?”

  “No, Elliott.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “I’m just trying to be careful about my heart. That’s all.”

  “Are you scared, Simone?”

  It was a simple question, though the way he said it made her think there was a lot more to it than the words. She nodded. He squeezed her hand.

  “I’m absolutely fucking terrified,” she said.

  For some reason, that made him smile. Small at first. Then wider. He got up to come around the table to kiss her sweetly. He looked into her eyes, and she thought he meant to say something, but in the end he kissed her again and went back to his seat.

  The conversation was a little awkward after that, but not too much. They watched a movie, and though he did put his arm around her, beyond that, Elliott was a perfect gentleman.

  Simone was a little disappointed.

  “Simone,” he whispered, nuzzling her temple. “Come to bed.”

  She’d fallen asleep. Bleary eyed, blinking, she sat up a little. She let him lead her upstairs, where she brushed her teeth and slipped out of her dress and into a borrowed T-shirt and her panties, and then into his bed and under the covers all within a few minutes. He took a little longer than that, and she’d almost fallen back to sleep by the time the bed dipped under his weight.

  “Good night, Simone.”

  “‘Night, baby,” she murmured, too tired to keep herself from that affection, and snuggled back against him.

  “Oh,” Elliott said. “Damn.”

  She was instantly, immediately awake. Simone tensed, eyes going wide at the feeling of him along her back. Her ass had fit perfectly into his groin. He was already hard. Her nipples were, too.

  Elliott kissed the back of her neck. His hand slid over her belly, teasing the edge of her panties but not going inside. Other than that, he didn’t move.

  Simone rocked her hips the tiniest bit.

  He groaned against her skin. His fingers twitched. His cock throbbed against her ass, and at the feeling of his thickness, Simone’s clit pulsed, too. She shifted her legs open wider, again the tiniest amount.

  She wanted to roll over and straddle him. Move up his body to ride his mouth. She wanted to get on her hands and knees and suck his cock while he ate her pussy until she screamed.

  Instead, she barely moved.

  Slow, slow, Elliott thrust against her with such small movements she could convince herself she was imagining it. His breath caressed the back of her neck. His fingers drifted along the waistband of her panties, never moving inside, but teasing her bare skin. They moved together, tiny wriggles and shifts, neither of them speaking.

  Everything inside her tensed and released. Over and over again, she and Elliott moved so slowly and carefully the bed didn’t even squeak. Heat kindled inside her with every squeeze of her thighs and inner muscles, until at last she couldn’t stand it any longer and slid an arm behind her to go around the back of his neck. Twisting, she pulled his mouth to hers.

  “Shhh,” Elliott whispered instead of kissing her, though his lips were on hers, teasing. “We’re going to take it slow.”

  Simone gave a low giggle of frustration. He let the tip of his tongue tease hers, all the while keeping up that steady, infinitesimal rocking of his cock against her, the constant, torturous tickle of his fingertips on her belly.

  It went on forever, until there was nothing for her to do but give herself up to riding the waves of pleasure rippling through her. Her nipples, rubbing the fabric of the T-shirt she’d borrowed, ached, and so did her pussy, desperate for his cock or fingers or tongue. But all she had was the tug of lace against her as they rocked together.

  When she could no longer hold back the whimpering, greedy cry, Elliott shuddered against her. At last, at fucking last, his fingers moved down over the lace to find her swollen, throbbing clit. He didn’t have to stroke or pinch it, all he did was put his fingers against her as they rocked.

  Then she was coming, infused with ecstasy, every nerve singing. She said his name, low and hoarse, and he gave a muffled cry against her shoulder. She tensed for the pressure of his teeth, maybe a slap against her or a pinch, but all he did was press the heel of his hand against her clit to grind her back against him.

  The pressure disappeared for a moment. She heard the squeak of his nightstand drawer. The tear of foil.

  Then somehow they’d shifted and he was inside her. Fucking deep. His fingers pinched her clit as he thrust, hitting every secret spot.

  Shuddering, Simone rocked against him. Elliott bit down on her shoulder, lightly at first. Then harder. Another round of orgasm wracked her at the pain, and then he was moaning her name as he fucked her faster. Faster. He cried out when he came.

  Silence, but for the sound of their breathing. Simone waited for Elliott to say something, but instead he got out of bed without a word. Her stomach sank, and she wondered if he were going to leave her, maybe sleep in a guest room or something, but he was back in a minute with a damp cloth. Still without speaking, he used it to clean her up, then got back in next to her. He put his arms around her, nuzzling her close.

  She listened to the sound of his breathing slow, then the light rattle of an entirely adorable snore.

  Fuck.

  She was in so much trouble.

  * * *

  Elliott didn’t take flowers the next time he went to visit Molly. Instead, he spent the money on a soft, fleecy blanket because she’d complained sometimes of being chilly, and of the roughness of the sheets. She was sleeping when he came in the room, though her color was better than he’d seen it for a long time.

  For a few seconds, guilt poked at him. He’d missed a few of his regular visits. Spending time with Simone had taken priority over most everything. So much was changing, and so fast.… He wanted to tell Molly all about her. Mostly, he wanted to thank his stepmother for her advice. He might never have been willing to try and make things work with Simone if Molly hadn’t half shamed or challenged him into it.

  He tucked the blanket over her legs, not meaning to wake her, but when she stirred, he smiled. “Hey.”

  “It’s you.”

  “It’s me,” he said.

  Molly managed a faint smile and reached for him. Her grip was weak and fell away almost at once, but she kept the smile. He pulled his chair into its usual spot next to the bed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit, of course. How do you think I’m feeling?”

  Elliott laughed a little. “Well, you look great.”

  Molly’s smile faded, but her gaze didn’t. She looked at him, bright and intense. Her mouth worked as her fingers twisted on the comforter.

  “What’s wrong?�
� he asked, expecting her to complain about the temperature or the food or the caregivers, or about something that had happened years and years ago but that had become fresh in her mind for some reason. She might not remember breakfast, but she could remember him breaking her favorite candy dish the night he’d gotten drunk and tripped over his own feet.

  “He came to see me.”

  Elliott frowned. “Who did?”

  “Your father.”

  She’d dreamed of his father, her first and only husband, before. She’d told him that. And there’d been all those times, awful, horrible times, when she’d mistaken Elliott for his dad, though thankfully that hadn’t happened in a while. But something in the way she said this made him think that this time, it wasn’t imagination or memory or mistaken identity.

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “He’s not supposed to be allowed to see you,” Elliott said. He wanted to pace, but forced himself to stay still. He took her hand again.

  Molly winced when he squeezed her a little too hard. She struggled to sit up higher on her pillows. For the first time in months, she looked absolutely clear-eyed.

  “It’s okay. I wanted to see him. I asked him to come, Elliott. Before I go, I needed to tell him everything I thought or felt about him.”

  “He hurt you!” Elliott cried and could no longer sit still. He got up so fast the chair scraped the floor and hit the nightstand. “Jesus, Molly. He almost put you in the fucking ground! Shit, he might as well have, since he’s the reason you’re…”

  He couldn’t go on. They both knew what his father had done. Molly didn’t say anything as he yelled, but when he stopped, she gestured for him to come closer. Elliott sat on the edge of the bed and let her pull him closer. She petted his hair a few times before pushing him back to look at her.

  “I had to forgive him,” she said. “I’m not going to die giving that bastard the satisfaction of being worth my hate.”

  Elliott wanted to sneer. Or punch something. Instead, he pulled his chair back over to the bed and took her hands. “You’re not going to die any time soon.”

  “I will or I won’t,” Molly said. “That’s not up to me. But sonny, listen. I want you to try and find a way to let go of all this anger you have toward him, too.”