Julia was oblivious as she finished with her fruit and grabbed two bowls from the cupboard and handed one to him for his soup and put her grapes in the other. She fished in the silverware drawer and handed him a soup spoon, an honest-to-God soup spoon, which he didn’t realize anyone but restaurants owned.
She sliced her apple deftly. “Want to eat in front of the TV?” she asked absently.
“Sure,” he said thickly.
She looked up from her task. “Everything okay?”
He wanted to take a page from her playbook and be completely honest with her, just tell her he was so attracted to her that he couldn’t even think straight, but didn’t.
“Yeah, everything’s good,” he said to her. “You all set?”
“Sure. What do you want to watch?”
She walked into the living room with her bowl and he trailed behind her, willing himself to settle down. She powered up the television, same as the night before, and put on the next episode in the series that they’d started watching. Partway through she started in on some of her computers, down to only two for the night, and eventually around nine o’clock got up to make coffee.
“Want some coffee?” she asked from the seat next to him.
“No way,” he answered easily enough, his feet propped on the coffee table again. “I’d never get to sleep.”
“Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “I’ve heard that gets worse with age.”
He looked up sharply at her to find her eyes laughing down at him, her face straight. He was starting to wonder if she ever laughed or smiled, as he had yet to see it. Even if she didn’t, he could read the joke in her eyes.
“Shorty, I’m like a fine wine. I only get better with age.”
Her tips turned up slightly, which pleased the hell out of him despite it not being a full-blown smile. She headed to the kitchen and after a few seconds, he heard the water running and her clanking around. He got up to join her and this time, he couldn’t help himself when she stood so invitingly against the counter in front of the coffee machine.
She’d heard him come into the room so he didn’t bother announcing himself. Without hesitating, he stepped up behind her and placed his body directly against hers, his hands starting on her shoulders and skimming down her arms. Unlike his fantasy, instead of going for her hips, he held her hands when he got to them, intertwining their fingers, his palms on the top of her hands, and wrapped them around her waist, hugging her from behind.
“Do you think I’m too old?” he asked quietly, resting his cheek against hers. There was a big difference in their ages, he approaching forty and she still in her mid-twenties.
“No.” Julia shook her head, making their faces rub together. “And I didn’t say you were too old. Besides, this will keep me up half the night too,” she added, pointing to the coffee.
“Then why are you making it?” He was still comfortably holding her from behind and even better, she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she might have leaned farther into him.
“Because I still have work to do tonight,” Julia told him.
Elliot lifted his head in mock surprise. “I thought you and I were going to stay up late, talking and bonding and sharing all of our deepest, darkest secrets.”
She untangled their arms then, unlaced their fingers, and turned to lean her backside against the counter, and faced him.
“What makes you think I have any deep and dark secrets?” Julia asked, her eyes wide with sarcasm.
Taking advantage of their position, he caged her in with his hands on either side of her body. She was looking up at him, the end of her ponytail tickling the tops of his hands as she stared at him with those electric-green eyes. “I know we got off to a rocky start and that’s on me, but I like you.” As he spoke, he could hear his own voice deepen as he pushed the words out. “I think you’re thoughtful and probably the smartest person I’ve ever met. That doesn’t scare me. Deep, dark secrets?” he murmured, his forehead touching hers. “I think you’ve got them, just like I do. Those don’t scare me either.”
She surprised him when she reached up and rubbed her delicate hand against his rough cheek. It seemed so natural for him to lean down and gently brush his lips against hers and for her to reciprocate the action. Those perfect cupid’s bow lips of hers were so soft against his, and she smelled so incredible, so fresh and bright.
He pulled away and smiled at the slightly dreamy expression on her face and placed another kiss on her forehead.
“Fix your coffee, woman,” he told her before walking out of the room. Maybe, just maybe, he was gaining some ground with her.
The man was gigantic. That was all Julia kept repeating in her mind. He was just so enormous.
It wasn’t until he’d fallen asleep next to her on the couch during the third episode of Dr. Who, that she’d gotten the opportunity to watch him so freely without the chance of being caught. She’d stared, hard, and memorized his features. He had a five o’clock shadow that when she thought about it, she had never seen him without. There were some gray whiskers in there, stark in the forest of their black brethren. He had a few freckles on his nose and some wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.
But what brought about her sudden realization of his gargantuan size, compared to her, was when she’d contemplated taking off his boots so that he’d be able to sleep more comfortably. He didn’t have a car and it was too late to call one of his brothers, and Kelsey was in the city. Not that she’d call her. Kelsey was already trying to throw her and Elliot together, she didn’t need any more fodder for her cause. So, Julia decided she’d help him with his boots and let him sleep on the couch.
She stood there, at the coffee table just staring at his feet and wondering how she would ever be able to help.
“What’re you doing?” Elliot’s voice was deep from sleep, and gravelly. It was one of the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.
“I was going to help you by taking off your boots,” she told him, her eyes meeting his for a second and then focusing on his hands, casually stacked on his flat stomach.
“Why are you taking my boots off? Were you planning to take advantage of me while I slept?” Elliot smiled, looking relaxed and still somewhat sleepy.
“Yes,” she admitted without the hint of a smile. “The third date is an indicator for sex.”
“These are now my least favorite pair of boots,” Elliot said flatly.
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
“What’s this about sex, now?” he asked, sitting up, his feet dropping onto the floor.
“I looked up third-date protocol. The third date is considered the sex date. It’s the average number of dates considered appropriate before having sex with a new partner.”
His gray eyes were steady on hers, steamy and searing he watched her and murmured, “Is that so?”
“And I liked kissing you,” she said on a rush. “I’d like to do it more.”
He nodded, but didn’t laugh which she appreciated. She knew damn well she tended to make a fool of herself in situations like these by saying the wrong thing or not being coy enough. Elliot didn’t seem bothered in the least bit.
“I liked kissing you too,” he agreed. “Cole told me we can’t sleep together because you’re a client and we’re working for you.”
“If you’re bad in bed, I promise not to fire you.”
Her chest swelled when he laughed at her joke. She loved that he understood her, that he got her jokes even if her delivery wasn’t stellar.
“So, you’re saying you want me to spend the night so we can have sex?” She nodded. “Have you been sitting there the whole time I was asleep planning this?” She nodded again, truthfully.
Elliot ran his hand down his face and let out a chuckle under his palm. He then stood, tall and towering over her, but completely unintimidating.
“I like a woman that knows what she wants,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “But I don’t want to push you or make you uncomfortable. W
hy don’t I stay and we can fool around a little, then go from there?”
“Deal,” she said with a nod. Then she began gathering her things and packing up for the night.
Elliot sat and took his boots off with ease, smirking at her when he put them aside. She led him up the stairs and felt his eyes on her behind like a physical caress. She wished he would touch her. She’d had sex before, but she also wasn’t the most experienced. She wasn’t at all sure what she liked best or how to let him know those types of things. She worried she would do it wrong. It would be far easier if he were the one leading her, touching her first, so she would know what to do.
When she went into her bedroom, he waited by the door.
“There are some new toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom if you wanted to use one,” she offered, her back to him.
“Thanks.” He walked casually across the room, whistling softly on his way into the bathroom. The noise abruptly stopped when he got to the doorway.
“What is it?” Julia asked.
He smiled back at her, the hot look back in his eyes. “Just an awful lot of girly things. Everywhere.”
She was confused for a minute, unsure of what he was talking about and then rushed into the bathroom with a squeak, pulling down the bras and panties, that were hanging from the shower curtain, and threw them in the bathroom closet. When she was stalking out of the bathroom, he grabbed her arm before she could get past him and planted a kiss on her lips. That seemed to stop her embarrassment and her lips softened as she gently kissed him back.
“Cute. I want to see you in every single one,” he told her before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door gently.
Cute was not the word she would have used to describe her bras and panties, but him wanting to see her in them changed the tone of the comment. It had gone from something teasing to sexy in an instant and the ripples it left reverberated through her.
She wanted Elliot. She wanted to touch him and see him. All of him. She wanted to know what it was like to be with a man like him, someone so masculine and so sure of himself. Her previous partners had been younger and more effeminate. They gentled around her, making their voices soft and talking to her as if she were a rabid dog.
Elliot wasn’t afraid to challenge her. Instead of talking to her like she was missing brain cells, dumbing things down for her, he watched her like he was trying to figure her out. That in itself was sexy. It was freeing in a way, to have someone want to get to know you for you, not get to know you so they could figure out how to fix or change you.
“Your turn,” Elliot said, coming out of the bathroom. He’d washed his face, droplets of water still on the edges of his temples and his nose. He’d run his hands through his hair, the black strands damp and slicked back, curling at his neck. His T-shirt was in his hands, his jeans unbuttoned and showing not just what color his boxers were, but just how far down his body hair went. Down across his muscled stomach, pointing in a straight line, and lost underneath the waistband of his boxers. “Julia.” He smiled when her eyes flicked back to his. “Your turn.”
She took her turn quickly, using the facilities and cleaning up as best she could. Opening the closet and rummaging in the basket, she grabbed the first thing she could match, a bra and panty set that were nearly brand new and softer than silk. When she looked in the mirror, she could see her nipples as she knew she’d be able to. She let her hair down and trying not to overthink it, went back into the bedroom.
Elliot’s eyes widened when she stepped back into the bedroom. He was lying on the bed, his jeans gone, one arm thrown casually behind his head. He let out a soft whistle and held out a hand to her.
She took it, letting him lead her to the bed and onto it, where she straddled his lap with his guidance.
“Can I touch you?” he asked.
The lights had been dimmed in the room, just a soft glow from her bedside lamp illuminated them. His skin looked almost golden, though she knew hers was probably milky white. His big hand on her stomach confirmed it—the paleness of her body compared to his work-roughened tanned hand. He had a light dusting of hair on his knuckles and scars on every finger.
“That is some ink,” he commented, his eyes taking in her arms.
She didn’t want to talk about her tattoos. She didn’t really want to talk at all. The movement of his hands on her skin was mesmerizing. One stroking a soft path on her stomach, the other cupping her neck. She could feel him hard under her lap and naturally pressed herself down, grinding against him.
He pulled her to him, his thumb caressing the pulse point at her throat as his lips met hers. For a man that could be so brusque, he was surprisingly soft with her. Not meekly soft or tentative, but in a way that made her relax into him. She felt comfortable in her own skin, unafraid to relax and give him control.
Part of her often-raised anxiety levels had to do with keeping herself in control all the time. Elliot was strong enough and competent enough that she felt a calm settle over her when they were together. He didn’t make her nervous, quite the opposite, in fact.
It was strange, but decidedly soothing.
Julia took her time exploring the parts of his body that she could reach. His broad chest and thickly muscled arms were hot under her palms, his nipples pebbling at her touch. His hips flexed underneath her, pressing his hard length against her. With what seemed like no effort at all, he flicked her bra open with one hand, his fingers deftly skilled.
Instead of being annoyed with his well-practiced move, she was impressed.
She sat up and let it slide off her arms, hooking it to the post on the footboard of the bed.
“I like that you hang your girly stuff everywhere,” he growled, his cheeks a flushed and ruddy red as he looked at her body. He raised his hands to cup her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers wasting no time in rolling her nipples between them.
“I’m marking my territory,” she said, her voice husky.
His answering smile was quick, just a quirk of his lips before he sat up to meet her chest to chest.
“You’re funny under all that serious,” he noted, his hands sliding down to her backside and squeezing her cheeks. He wasn’t gentle about it, his fingers grasping her hard and strong. She sucked in a breath, her eyes slipping closed at the sensation. It was rougher than she’d ever been touched but it sent a spiral of pleasure through her. Her back arched as she pushed herself farther into his grip.
He touched her then, the fingers of one hand exploring her over her panties while the other still held her behind, squeezing and pulling her cheeks apart.
And she liked it. God, how she liked it. Her hands held him by the neck, unsure if she was trying to hold on for dear life or pull him closer so she could devour him. Her mouth was open and slack, nothing escaping but small breathy moans and squeaks. His fingers continued their ministrations, rubbing her in long luxurious strokes that ignited fires along every inch of her skin and he did nothing more than touch her and encourage her.
He whispered words meant to stimulate her, things that probably shouldn’t be said out loud or might be considered vulgar, and they did their job. Her body was weeping for him, opening to him desperately, willing to take whatever he might give.
“Yeah, baby, that’s it,” he murmured, pressing hot, openmouthed kisses to her throat. “Show me what you want.”
Her body undulated against his hand, wanting more than he was giving, searching for something just over the horizon that she couldn’t reach. A frustrated mewl escaped her, her shoulders shaking with the force of it.
Elliot let out a low laugh, a chuckle that shook his chest against hers.
“I hear you, baby. You need more.” His fingers left her, and he flipped her onto her back, sliding down her panties, hooking them on the post of the headboard and sending her a wink. On all fours, he walked himself back until he hovered over her lower body. With no words and just one hand, he instructed her to spread her legs, and she obeyed without question.
The look in his eyes as he saw her for the first time was enough for her to go along with any plan he might have. It was hard to interpret, the intensity of his gaze sharp, like he was taking in every detail, but there was also a hardness that had come over his body. He’d stiffened, holding himself still as he continued to do nothing more than look at her.
And she did nothing more than watch him, legs spread, ready for his next move.
His eyes never left her body, staring at the heart of her when he used a hand to softly stroke her thigh. In one stroke, he went from her knee and all the way down where his thumb caressed her damp flesh boldly. The heat of his hand against her own steamy wetness was enough to make her suck in a sharp breath, the contact not nearly enough yet more than she’d expected.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Julia,” he murmured, his thumb, slick now, spreading her open to his gaze.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her answer automatic, knowing that was the polite response.
His warm breath brush across her pelvis. Trying to control her reaction, she fisted her hands in the pillow under her hand, hiding her face in her arm in the process. She squirmed, waiting for him to make his next move.
It was slow in coming, Elliot taking his time exploring her most private parts. She felt his fingertips and thumbs as he caressed every inch of her. His nose brushed the crease of her leg and she heard his intake of breath, a low, humming sound directly following it.
“I might just sleep right here,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.
She lifted her head to look at him, the sight of his dark hair between her legs almost too much for her to bear. There was something about looking down her body at him, past her naked breasts and hard, pointed nipples, and beyond her stomach covered in gooseflesh and her freshly waxed mound. Their eyes met, his glowing in the dim lamplight.
Elliot: The Williams Brothers Page 8