“Can we count hanging orange dildo decorations as our first date?” she asked in an attempt to diffuse the intensity taking over his kitchen.
He grinned at that. “Why?”
“Because I plan on putting out tonight, and I don’t really do that on the first date.” She winked at him.
“You’re not taking this seriously at all.” He was back to being way too serious.
She fiddled with the petals on an orchid. “I have feelings for you, Eli. The fact that I’m feeling things for the guy who is divorcing me scares the crap out of me.”
His eyes went soft.
“So now you want to date me, and that’s amazing,” she continued.
“Mar.”
“But you want to start over, and I don’t want to do that.” She didn’t. The last thing she wanted to do was start anything over again. Moving forward was the only way she’d get through the next few months. Going backward would only take her back to the place she’d been with Scotty.
“You don’t want to start over?” Eli’s soft expression hardened around the edges.
“Not even a little.” Marlee shook her head. “I’d rather pick up right where we are. Move forward from here. Let’s not try to erase what we’ve been through, even if it’s messy.”
Eli stared at her for a long beat in that way of his. If she was anyone else, she would’ve thought he was pondering how to end it. To break her heart. But this was Eli, and she knew better than anyone he was just taking a moment to hear what she said. Really let it sink in before he responded.
“Right where we are,” he confirmed.
“All the messy. The divorce. The things that happened this morning. I don’t want to erase them. They’re part of our story.” And hopefully, they were part of a story that wouldn’t shred her in the end.
He reached out to run the edge of his index finger along the apple of her cheek. “Okay, Mar.”
“And I like you, Eli. I like you a lot. I don’t know where we’re going to end up. If I’m totally honest here, I don’t know that I’ll ever want to get married and plan a wedding again. But I like who I am when I’m with you. And I like who you are. And maybe that’s enough?”
“Is it enough for now?” he asked.
“Yeah.” It really was.
“Then that’s all that matters.” He took another step toward her.
“Scotty used to say all the time that he loved me more. That I was the best thing that ever happened to him. But Scotty didn’t like the messy. He liked things to be precisely how he liked them. I feel like I’m still recovering from all that, from trying to be exactly who he wanted and still not being enough.”
“You’re enough for me,” Eli said.
He seemed to mean it.
“And right now, I’m enough for you,” he continued. “So what do you say we do this relationship thing moment by moment?”
“No future?”
“There’s no future. There’s no past. There’s just who we are because of the things that made us this way. I’m not erasing the past. I’m not planning the future. I’m just letting this moment be what it needs to be for both of us.”
Wow. Eli could be really deep when he wanted to be.
“Okay,” she said.
He wrapped her in a hug, and it made the world fall away. In that moment, things were fine. And that was enough.
Palms against his chest, Marlee pulled back so she could see his face. “I know you’re not planning the future, but do you think you could make me some more of that chicken stuff from the other day? It was really good.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, Mar.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his. The light kiss only lasted half a second before it heated up.
His tongue slid against hers. Eli might not always have much to say, but boy, oh boy, could he use his mouth for other things.
She gripped the collar of his chef jacket, fisting her hands in the polyester. She wasn’t paying attention to anything other than his mouth, his body, and the way her nerves were hot-wired for his touch. So she missed that he’d been backing her into his office.
To the couch in his office.
She made quick work of unbuttoning his jacket, pulling his white undershirt out from under the belt around his jeans, and unhooking the belt.
“I have to go back to work,” she said against his mouth.
“After,” he replied in that chef tone of his that pissed her off in the kitchen but, here in his office, didn’t have the same effect. Here? It just added kindling to the fire already building. “I want you naked.”
Right then, she decided not to argue with Chef Eli when he told her what to do—as long as it involved sex, him, and immediate access to both.
She shimmied out of her panties, thankful that she’d decided to dress cute that day. He had his jeans around his thighs, boxers right there with them, and dug through his wallet, emerging with a yellow condom and that goofy grin on his face.
She giggled. “That’s not…”
He couldn’t be serious. They weren’t actually going to use it.
“It’s what we have.” He ripped open the package.
Apparently, they were going to use it. Yellow was the color of the day.
“On the couch, chef.” It was Marlee’s turn to order him around.
He sat on the couch, his erection standing at attention, and held the condom up between two fingers. The unspoken question hung in the air—did she want to do it?
Hell yes, she did.
She grabbed it like he was offering one of the seven-layer bars he had left over at the flower shop and sank to her knees in front of him. She ran the latex over his shaft. His head dropped back, his eyes closed, and he moaned as the condom fit snugly all the way down to the root.
Her hand still gripped him, and his gaze caught hers. She gave a light squeeze just so she could watch his eyes roll back that tiny bit. He didn’t disappoint.
As if she weren’t already turned on enough, his hand went to her neck and he pulled her mouth to his. She straddled him, his erection against her slick core, while he took his time with her mouth. Urging him on, like he was a shoe and she was Lothario, she lifted herself up, lined them together, and sank on top of him. Slowly. Letting him fill her.
He was making noises now deep in his throat. “Mar.”
“Eyes open, chef.”
He did as she instructed.
She moved up on her knees, still fully clothed except for her underwear, and then sank down again.
He didn’t close his eyes this time. His hands rested at her waist, letting her pick the pace. Her nipples contracted to tight buds, the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex rubbing against the fabric of her dress.
There was something freeing about being the one in control. Eli was all about constraint. Control. Doing things himself. But he let her set the pace, let her move on him at her own speed. She’d never been so turned on in her life.
He lifted his hips to meet her on each thrust down. The Adam’s apple in his throat pulsed.
“I’m almost there,” she said, nearly ready to spin out of control.
There was not a breath of space between them, but somehow, he moved his hand to where they were joined. One flick at the bundle of nerves and she was done. She dropped her head against his shoulder and rode the wave that crashed over her. Mid-wave, he gave one last thrust and everything in him tightened.
“Maybe I should come work for you after all.” She pressed a kiss to his swollen lips.
He brushed a stray hair from her face. “Maybe you should just come visit more often.”
“Maybe you should hang curtains or something so we can make this an everyday occurrence?”
He barked out a laugh.
She pressed her face into his neck. “I really should get back to work.”
He helped her ease herself off of him.
“I’m meeting up with Velma, Heather, and Claire after work. We’re going
to Brek’s. You should come.” Finding her land legs again, Marlee pulled her panties back on under her skirt.
Eli dealt with the condom and readjusted his own clothes so seamlessly that no one walking in right then would’ve ever known what just went on.
“I’d like that.” He lifted the hair from her shoulder, tucking it to one side. He kissed the line of her neck where it met her shoulder. “How about you tell Jase you need the afternoon off?”
“What?”
“If I can’t take you out tonight, I want to take you now. There’s something I want you to see.”
“I can’t just bum off work. Jase needs me.” But there was something in Eli’s expression. Something different. Something that told her that she should ask for the afternoon. She dropped her forehead to his. “I’ll ask.”
“See if Lothario can hang with him while we’re gone?” Eli asked. “I want your full attention this afternoon.”
A sly smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “What on earth do you have planned?”
“You’ll see.” He kissed her quickly. Then it heated, and it wasn’t so quick.
Turned out, he burnt the shit out of his sauce.
He didn’t seem to mind.
Chapter Seventeen
Eli looked up at the old industrial building in LoDo—the building he’d had his eye on for months. It was old, it needed a bunch of work done, and it was overpriced. Hence why it remained on the market for all these months. But the location was spot on, and the place had character.
The perfect location for a restaurant. His restaurant.
He was willing to pay the price tag once he had the cash.
Marlee took his hand. “What’s this?”
“I want to buy it,” he whispered. He hadn’t said the words out loud to anyone. Not even his real estate agent when she’d shown it to him three times.
A few more huge events and he would have enough for the down payment.
Marlee ran her hand along the brick exterior. “It’s beautiful.”
It wasn’t, but it would be.
“Come on.” He tugged her hand and opened the door for her.
She walked through, a layer of dust and musty air assaulting them.
For the briefest of moments, he wished he hadn’t brought her to the building. She should see it when it was complete. When it made sense. Right now? Right now, it was an overpriced building with stale air and red graffiti tagged on the inside walls.
When he was done? When he was done it’d be one of Denver’s best hot spots.
“We can just walk in?” Marlee asked.
“Trish?” he called.
“I’m here,” his real estate agent hollered back.
“I’ll introduce you to her in a little bit. She’s my Realtor, but she knows I prefer to check things out alone.”
Trish got him. Understood that he didn’t need the sales pitch. She unlocked the doors, showed him around the new properties, and then disappeared while he dreamt.
“The bar will go over here.” He strode to the area on the west side of the room. “Bar tables here by the big windows so guests can have a drink and watch the sunset over the Rockies.”
Marlee didn’t move as he jogged up the stairs to the landing. “This will be the room for events. Not huge, but it’ll work.”
She followed, cautious on the stairs. They were rickety, but they’d hold—for now.
“The kitchen will go back behind the bar. We’ll need new plumbing, get everything up to code, but when it’s done…” He shoved his hands on his hips. “Yeah. It’ll work.”
Marlee still hadn’t said anything.
His heart dropped. She hated it.
The building was a wreck, for sure, but he had a vision for it. And for some reason, he wanted Marlee to get it. To love it, too.
“You’re not going to paint the brick, are you?” Marlee asked, running her fingers over a batch of graffiti on the wall. “I think you can get this off pretty easily.”
He placed his hand over hers on the wall. “No, I like the exposed brick.”
“It’s beautiful, Eli.” She turned so her lips were millimeters away from his. “It’s perfect.”
She wasn’t lying. He saw it in her eyes. She got it. Knew what he was trying to do. And that meant everything.
“Can I decorate it?” she asked.
His lips parted. She wanted to help?
She shook her head. “I mean, if you don’t want me to, that’s fine. But I have some ideas. I’m thinking we go with dark wood accents—bannister, stairs, bar top. And really deep colors for the artwork. Maybe even a little red as a nod to the…” She tilted her head toward the graffiti.
“We?” he asked. She wanted to be a we, wanted to be involved in his project. He should’ve been scared as shit, but he just felt warm all over.
“I mean, if you want my help. You don’t have to have my help.”
“Yeah, Mar. You can decorate the place.” The words were rough. He swallowed hard. “If I get it.”
She turned her back to the wall, her chest to his. “You have to buy it. You know that, right?”
“I’m still saving.” He stepped back, did another scan of the space. Took the dream out of its box long enough to let it live before he shoved it back inside and locked it up tight.
“I bet Sadie would invest. And Nicole. And Megan. And Rachel.” She listed his sisters. “Sadie would help you like you helped her.”
“I can’t ask them for that.” He shook his head. Buying law books wasn’t the same as helping him buy a building.
“Your mom and dad would help you out, too,” Marlee said softly. “After everything you did for them.”
He shuffled on his feet. Truth was that when he was a teenager, his mom had gotten sick. The kind of sick that took a toll. The kind of sick that meant she was out of commission for two years. The kind of sick that started with a c and ended with chemotherapy and radiation. The doctors—and there were a lot of them—weren’t sure she’d beat it. His dad—a great man—had worked his ass off during those years. Two jobs to pay for the health insurance and the bills. A third to put food on the table. Needless to say, Dad wasn’t home.
Eli had four little sisters and a mom who needed more care than his dad could provide working three jobs. Eli was the oldest. He stepped up. Dropped out of everything that sucked up any extra time—guitar lessons, his job as a prep cook at a high-class restaurant downtown, the after-school French classes he’d needed to study gastronomy in the heart of the Parisian culinary world. He had dropped it all so he could take care of his mom and help out with his sisters—run them to ballet, get them to gymnastics, make sure they occasionally ate something that resembled a vegetable.
Marlee knew all that. She’d been there.
She’d even helped him out with a little French after she got back from a monthlong vacation at a villa in Bordeaux.
“Laisse-les t'aider,” she murmured to him, the French filling the air in the musty, graffiti-filled room.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means let them help.” She squeezed his biceps.
After he’d lost the scholarship to Europe, he graduated high school, applied to the local culinary school, and thanked fuck he at least got in there. Then, he became a caterer so he could help put his sisters through college. He wouldn’t ask them for money. He knew how hard it was to rub two pennies together, he wouldn’t ask them to do that for him.
They had their dreams, and now, he was finally going to have his.
Marlee’s hand found his as she dropped her head against his shoulder. “What are you going to do with the other kitchen when you buy this place?”
“I figure I’ll keep the catering company. The restaurant and catering company can work together. Two sources of income are better than one, you know?”
She squeezed his hand. “Look at you, building your own empire.”
He shook off the emotion clogging his throat. “C’mon, I’ll i
ntroduce you to Trish. Show you the kitchen space.”
Marlee followed him to the kitchen, their hands still tethered together. She pulled at his hand to stop him. Then, on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his.
“This is the best first date ever,” she said against his mouth.
Yes, yes, it was. He sifted his hand through her silky hair.
He’d always liked being alone. But he hadn’t had one of his end-of-autumn camping trips since he got married. And he hadn’t missed it, because Marlee filled all the space in his world.
Everything was fine, and he took time to savor it because he knew better than anyone that moments like this could change in an instant.
Chapter Eighteen
“They make tuxedo condoms?” Velma asked before taking a sip of her ginger ale.
“Yeah. I swear, it’s a thing. Who knew? They have little white bow ties printed on them and everything.” Marlee really wanted a glass of red, but the stress of her new life was getting to her and she elected to join in on the fizzy ginger, letting it settle her stomach. Sometimes a girl wanted a dash of merlot, and sometimes she didn’t. A little over a month ago, Scotty would have usually made Marlee’s beverage decisions when they were out and about. Marlee had actually thought it was cute at the time. Nice. He knew what she liked and made sure she had it.
Funny thing about that…she was learning that what she liked was changing. Like drinking ginger ale instead of a glass of red.
Besides, it was probably against the rules to order wine in a dive bar. Even if it was Velma’s husband’s bar and she probably made him stock the good stuff. Or at least the decent stuff.
“I want tuxedo condoms. I’m going to order some.” Claire had her cell in hand, searching novelty condoms. “I mean, can you imagine Dean’s face?”
Straitlaced Dean? No, Marlee could not imagine that. She reached to pat Lothario on the head. He lounged next to her in the booth, noshing on a piece of steak Brek had tossed his way when they’d arrived.
“Brek wouldn’t even wear a tuxedo to our wedding, I’m pretty sure this is totally out of the question in our marriage.” Velma twirled her straw between her fingertips.
Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 66