by Decker, Ally
She was part-way there, anyway, the voice at the back of his head warned him. And yes, there was no denying that—or the fact that he was hurt by it. But then he remembered who she was: a woman who had spent her entire life walking away from things. From what she'd told him here and there, he could picture some of it, at least. As a kid, she'd kept moving every year or two, without having any say-so in the matter. And as much as she'd resented it growing up, she'd structured her life in the same way with only one part being different—she was the one making decision, always. He remembered the reasons she'd cited for some of her moves and it had always come down to her. The situation with Lion's Den possibly closing was as close as she'd gotten to being forced to leave, but even that was ultimately her decision, since she could still stay in New York.
Elliot just hoped he could convince her.
As he turned into the familiar street, he looked around and the memories from the first time he'd been here came back—the dark night and bright lights, the noise from the street stalls, the surprise of what looked like a country pub in the middle of New York. Later, he'd asked Naomi, and she confirmed it was, indeed, a pub ran by a cowboy who left Oklahoma years ago, but she told him they played other music, too, and she'd been to a concert there, once or twice.
From her stories, Elliot had also learned about the bakery down the street, the deli two blocks away, and all the weird neighbors the parlor had. It felt like a place he knew well now, even if he'd only been here once after getting his tattoo.
He rubbed his fingers over it as he hesitated at the entrance. He closed his eyes against the memory of Naomi tracing the edges of the heart and its vessels. Then he took a deep breath, and walked inside.
He only now realized how apt the name of Lion's Den was.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Naomi was used to getting herself back up whenever life knocked her down, but this particular weekend had been hard. After the reality check from Fiona, she'd thought over and over about Elliot, their last fight, and their relationship. She'd admitted to herself that he'd been right. She should've been more honest with him.
She'd thought it was smart to be careful. She hadn't considered there was a different kind of risk in that.
After barely getting any sleep, since the various what-ifs kept her up most of the night—what if I didn't go, what if Ed found a place, what if I could have that conversation with Elliot all over again—Naomi got to work on Monday with a headache and a desperate need for more coffee. Ed barely nodded at her, buried in his papers as usual these days, and Fiona wasn't there, so there was no one to distract her. She made herself a big cup of coffee and went to her station—soon-to-be-former station—and rearranged her equipment only to decide after half an hour that it was completely stupid and put it back as it had been before. There was one positive thing that came out of it, though, since she found one of her sketchbooks, the same one she'd spent the last two weeks looking for, never thinking to check in the bottom drawer she hardly ever used.
She hopped onto the tattoo chair and leaned back, flipping through the sketchbook. Most of the pages were filled with drafts of her clients' designs and some of the posters she'd been working on digitally. Then she got to a few sketches of Elliot. His profile. His hands mid-gesture. The line of his shoulders against the pillow.
Naomi swallowed down the tightness in her throat and blinked back the tears. She wanted nothing more but to see him, to talk to him, but she couldn't. She'd burned that bridge.
She looked at her phone. What would happen if she called him? Would he pick up? What would she tell him?
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, take me back.
No. She couldn't do that. Could she?
Naomi shook her head and put her sketchbook back in the drawer. Maybe, if she had a job, she would stay and try to make it right. But she didn't have one, so there was no point in torturing herself like that. Or him.
She heard the front door open, but she didn't care to turn around. Justin was there and he would hold back any client who showed up too early. Her noon appointment had canceled last-minute, anyway, so she was free for the next few hours.
"Naomi!" Justin shouted a second later. "Come here!"
It was like he refused to learn not to do that out of sheer stubbornness. But she would keep trying for as long as she was here.
She headed towards the front and pulled the partition open. "Justin, we talked about—"
Any words she was going to say disappeared from her head the second she spotted Elliot in the room. He was standing there, on the other side of the counter, and it was like a déjà vu of their first meeting here, months ago.
Her heart started hammering in her chest as she stared at him. He had shadows under his eyes, he hadn't shaved, and generally looked like he hadn't slept in a month. And he was here. He came.
"Hey," she whispered, then cleared her throat and repeated it louder.
"Hi." Elliot looked from her to Justin and back. "I wanted to see if… If there's a chance we could talk. In private."
Yes! Naomi wanted to scream it from the rooftops, but she managed to contain it to the simple nod before looking at Justin.
"Could you give us a moment, please?"
"Sure thing," Justin told her, getting up. He headed towards the front door, locked it and flipped the sign to 'CLOSED' before disappearing behind the partition.
Naomi pulled it closed behind him, not wanting any of them to overhear.
"I'm glad you're here," she told Elliot, because she needed to say something, and he deserved to see her try.
Shit, he deserved so much more than that.
"I'm sorry," she said next, stepping from behind the counter and coming to stand in front of him. Everything in her was screaming to run away and hide, but she didn't.
She couldn't, not this time.
"Thank you," he said, taking a step closer. There were only a few feet between them now. "I came here, because I keep thinking about our last…conversation—"
"Me too," she cut in. He nodded and went on.
"—and there are things I wish I had said, back then. If you'd want to hear them."
"Yes." Naomi's stomach turned into knots. He's here, that's a good sign, don't freak out. Stay and listen. "Yes, I do."
Elliot looked to the side before meeting her gaze again. "I'm not going to lie, I'm still hurt that you didn't tell me. I feel cheated. But what I came to realize is that it's not all on you. It's not on you that I was ready to go all-in pretty much from the start. It's not on you that I expected—hoped for—the same thing."
"Going all-in terrifies me."
The words were out before she could stop them and she swallowed hard, but didn't take them back. It was their moment of truth and she needed to tell him hers.
"It terrifies me, too," he said next and she held her breath. What? But he wasn't done. "I know it might not look like it. But I've had relationships that lasted longer and I wasn't invested in any of them the way I am in this one. And there are times when it scares me shitless. I just felt… It felt right with you."
"It felt right for me, too. Like maybe it would be worth the risk," Naomi admitted in a whisper. "But I don't know if I can do that."
Elliot lowered his head and she couldn't see his face. She made a move to reach out, but pulled back. It wasn't her right anymore.
"That's a decision only you can make," he said quietly, lifting his head and meeting her gaze again. "I never wanted to make one for you. I just wanted to be with you. I wanted to go on dates with you, get back home with you, do all the things we were doing. I still want that." He took a deep breath. "That's what I came here to tell you. I still want you. I want you to stay in New York. I want us to be together. If you want that, too—If there's any chance it could happen, I needed to make it perfectly clear where I stand."
"I want to stay in New York, too," she confessed quietly, but shook her head when she saw so much hope in his eyes her stomach tightened. Damn,
what a mess. "I can't do that now, not for the next three months at least. I promised to fill that spot in San Diego, and I don't know what will happen in the meantime… But listen," she added quickly when his face fell. "I want to come back. I want to come back for good, and… And while you aren't my only reason, you are one of them. I promise." Naomi looked down on his chest, then back into his eyes. "A long time ago, I promised myself that I'd never make a decision on where to live purely based on what any man in my life would want. And I still wouldn't. I'm sorry if that's—"
"It's not." He shook his head. "I don't expect you to make any decision based only on what I want. I just wanted to be a part of the conversation."
"I get it. And I'm really, really sorry." She rested her hands over his chest, thumbs brushing over where his tattoo was. The least she could offer him was an explanation. Her honest truth.
"I keep one foot out of the door," she said slowly, looking at her hands. "That's what I do. That's who I was for the longest time. A part of me still is—sometimes it's the first thought I have. Things are going great between us? Maybe I should leave before I get too deep into it. Things are not going great? I knew it, it's time to quit. I don't know a thing about my future other than I want you in it? Holy shit, now I definitely need to run."
She chuckled humorlessly, too afraid to look up at him.
"I wish I could say my decision about San Diego had nothing to do with you, but I can't," she continued. "It was partially caused by me not wanting to hurt when we inevitably break up. Yes, I know how messed up this sounds. I know. And I'm sorry."
He put his hands on the sides of her neck and ran his thumbs along her jaw, pushing lightly to prompt her to look up, so she didn't have a choice. But when she did, he smiled at her and kissed her softly, just a peck before pulling back and giving her space.
She stared at him for a long moment. Could she really be forgiven just like that?
Before either of them said anything, there were loud voices coming from behind the partition and a moment later the door was open with enough force to make them bounce. Fiona grinned at them.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I thought it might be relevant to the discussion." She winked at Naomi. "We got the money. We're staying in business, it's just a matter of deciding where we're moving."
They… They got the money.
A tight knot, the last one that wouldn't let go, finally uncurled in Naomi's chest and she let out a shaky breath. A few hours earlier, she'd thought she was losing everything. She'd thought she'd have to start all over again, and she'd been tired, so tired at the mere idea. And now it seemed like she was getting everything she wanted.
Things like that didn't happen in real life, did they?
She looked from a grinning Fiona to Elliot who was beaming at her, wide smile splitting his face.
"Yeah, it's real," he said gently, covering her hands against his chest with his own.
"You're a mind-reader," she muttered, shaking her head, but she could feel the excitement growing inside her. It was going to work out. Somehow. Maybe.
It will.
"If I was, we'd never have gotten in that mess," Elliot pointed out.
"I don't know." She tangled her hands over the back of his neck. "We might have done it anyway. We're both pretty hopeless, it seems."
"Not anymore." He pulled her into a kiss, ignoring Fiona still standing a few feet away. "Let's be done with being stupid for now."
Naomi laughed into his mouth, breaking the kiss, but she couldn't really argue his point. She would really use a break from making stupid choices.
"Let's."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Elliot couldn't stop touching Naomi for the entire time it took to get to her place. He kept marveling over the fact that his plan had worked. He couldn't believe he got to have her back in his life.
And sure, they still had a lot to figure out—her upcoming departure, even if temporary, as well as all the issues they'd only begun to unearth between the two of them—but if they could emerge on the other side together and whole, he would be happy.
Now, after getting to her place, they undressed quickly, then reached for each other in a way they'd never had before. There was a desperate edge to it, in the way they pulled each other closer and closer, the way they clung to each other, the way he was gripping her hips while she was leaving marks on his shoulders. They fell onto the bed and he was inside her a minute later, and she moaned into his mouth as she clamped her muscles around him, making him shiver.
There was nothing careful about them now. They urged each other on, going faster and harder, without stopping. And when she came with a shout, he followed, muffling his groan by sucking on the skin next to her collarbone. It felt like something shattered inside him, trembling only to break and fall into pieces.
It took them a long time to come back to reality, but when they did, they still didn't feel inclined to move away from each other.
Which was more than fine with Elliot. He'd almost lost her for good. He needed the reassurance.
"Thanks for coming after me," Naomi whispered after a while. They were lying face to face, and she was petting his tattoo while he traced random patterns at the dip of her back. "I realized just now that no one has ever done that before."
He kissed her forehead. "You're welcome. Thanks for choosing—" me "—to stick with me. I know I can push too hard, but I never want to push you so hard you'd run."
Naomi closed her eyes. "I may still feel like running every once in a while," she admitted. "I promise I'll try to talk to you about it, though, instead of actually doing it."
"Please do." Elliot took a deep breath. "If you ever feel like you can't stand New York any longer, tell me. I love it here, but I'd rather move than have you be miserable."
As much as he never wanted to be her father and pull her out of the place she felt safe, Elliot also didn't want to do the exact opposite and end up with her feeling stranded.
"I love New York, and I want to stay here," she said, but then paused. "I'll tell you if that ever changes."
"Great."
"Anything else we need to talk about now?" she whispered, looking up at him. The heat in that gaze lit a match inside him right away.
"Not that I can think of," he whispered back and rolled obediently onto his back when she pushed him.
She straddled his waist and kissed him, slow and deep, before murmuring against his lips. "Then let me show you how much I appreciate you."
She started with a line of kisses along his jawline, then moved lower, scraping her teeth against his stubble and sending little shocks of pleasure down his body.
When he tried to curl his arms around her and bring her closer, she pulled back.
"Try not to move," she told him, pressing his hands onto the mattress. "It's all about you now."
He nodded and got a sly smile in response. When she released his wrists, he kept them where they were.
Elliot had never handed himself over like this to anyone and let go. It was far more difficult than he imagined, but slowly, as Naomi kissed and nuzzled her way through his neck and shoulders, he started to relax.
"There you go," she murmured, mouth brushing his skin as she moved lower. She sucked on his right nipple and then on the left, biting it gently before pulling back. She sat up and stared at the one place she always came back to when touching him. "I've never been this affected by a tattoo before," she admitted as she brushed the lower edges of it with her thumb. "Mine or someone else's."
"I'm glad you were the one who did it," he said after realizing he'd never told her that before.
"Ed's work is amazing, you'd love it." She shook her head. "But I'm glad I was the one to do it, too."
Elliot could feel himself grinning, smile growing as he watched her look at him with a possessive glint in her eyes.
"You're glad your man is wearing your art, huh?"
For half a second, he was afraid he made a mistake and pushed too far again. He me
ant it as a joke, but it didn't quite come out like one, and he held his breath now, waiting to see what happened.
She startled, for a moment, and then the possessive glint was back.
"Wow, okay." She leaned to lick over the tattoo and Elliot's cock definitely took notice. "I haven't thought about it like this," she told him, her mouth wet and open against his skin, "but it's true."
Words got lost between them soon after, when she rolled her hips and pushed herself down so that she pressed her ass cheeks against his cock.
"You play dirty," he told her, bucking his hips up but not moving his hands. Yet.
She offered him a wicked smile and slowly, very slowly, dragged herself down his body until she was hovering over his erection, licking her lips.
"Can I make it up to you, somehow?" she asked, trying and falling to sound innocent.
No one with their mouth so close to someone's cock could ever come off as innocent.
"You could suck me off until I come in your mouth," Elliot said, brushing his fingers over Naomi's cheek. Only after the fact did he realize he wasn't supposed to be moving, but she didn't look like she minded. She nuzzled into his palm and then licked her lips before pushing the head of his cock inside her mouth, staring at him the whole time. Fuck. "Yes. Just like that."
He was glad she liked when he talked through a blowjob, because he didn't think he could stop himself, especially now. He kept up a string of praises and encouragements, curses, and repeats of her name, and he only stopped when he started coming, the orgasm building until it exploded, pushing him even higher.
As he was drifting down from the high, she kissed her way back up his body until she found his mouth. He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her before rolling them onto their sides. With his other hand, he hooked her leg over his thigh and reached down to find her clit. It didn't take long to make her come, and when she did, her orgasm left her shaking. He pulled her closer against him and ran his fingers up and down her back.
He closed his eyes and he might have drifted off, because it seemed way too fast when Naomi pulled back and said she had to go back to work.