If there’s a connection between Smyth and Ella, I’m determined to find it.
While Ella was at work all day, I did some research. I haven’t learned much more than she told me. She moved around a lot with her mother. They lived at their last location the longest, almost six years. Her college years were filled with academic accolades, but not much else.
I did notice she wasn’t active in any formal social organizations such as sororities, clubs, or groups. Even though her GPA in high school qualified her for the National Honor Society, she wasn’t involved. Andrea mentioned her mother was extremely overprotective, but the sheltered life that Ella lived took parental worrying to a new level.
Besides some robberies and misdemeanors, the night of her mother’s murder was the only felonious activity in her hometown for years. No other violent crimes were committed the weeks leading up to or even after the murder. Such home invasions usually followed patterns, especially when the suspect wasn’t found.
Ella is stubborn as fuck. Asking her to stay away from that gym is a pipe dream. I need to fill Farley in regarding what I know. Rob too. He needs to know my concerns. With Smyth facing murder charges, his reaction to Ella in his gym yesterday needs to be taken seriously. That man recognized her.
I truly need to be careful how I approach Ella. If I ask too many questions, she’ll get suspicious. She needs to confide in me, without feeling that she’s being interrogated. I can’t jeopardize her trust. This goes beyond my concern or my feelings for her. I have this sudden need to protect her.
After I had called Ella at work with an invitation to join Rob and Andrea at their place on Long Beach, it took her a while to call me back. Once she finally did, she apologized and said she decided to stay in the city this weekend.
Ella staying in the city means I stay in the city.
I’d like to think the reason I’m at her apartment door right now is to try to find information…but I’d be lying.
After the second knock, I’m wondering if she is out with her colleagues. Just as I’m about to leave, she opens the door.
“Hey.” She looks surprised to see me.
“Do you always open the door without asking who it is?”
“Ben, what are you doing here?” she asks, losing her patience.
I reveal the pizza box that I’m holding out of view. “Have you eaten?”
Her features alter immediately. “Um, no. I haven’t.”
When she continues to stand in the doorway staring at me, I ask, “Do you want to? Or should I deliver this to a neighbor?”
“Um, sure.” She stands aside to let me in.
Her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. She’s in pajama bottoms and a tank top. I force my eyes away from her hardened nipples as they push against the ribbed fabric. I swear they weren’t there a few seconds ago when she answered the door, which can only mean…
She catches me staring and blushes, looking down as she does. “I wasn’t expecting company. I look like a slob.”
“You look beautiful,” I blurt out without thinking.
I’m not sure if she didn’t hear me or if she chooses to ignore my comment. She moves into her kitchen and returns with plates and utensils. Her hand trembles as she sets them on the tiny coffee table in her living room.
“I debated on the happy hour thing, but having a relationship with my couch and my TV tonight won the battle,” she babbles nervously. “I usually like to relax on Friday nights. I love Andrea staying with me, but I miss my nerd nights.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your nerd night. Do you want a rain check?”
“No,” she responds a bit too quickly and darts into her kitchen to escape me.
“What smells so good?” I ask, following her.
“Campbells.” She laughs and points to the small pot on the stove. “Would you like a beer?”
“Sure.”
I’m making her uncomfortable. It’s obvious as she avoids my gaze while opening a beer for me and pouring herself a glass of wine. Wordlessly we settle side by side on the couch with drinks and our pizza. The tension between us is palpable. I search my brain for something to say, something to discuss. The only two things cluttering my mind are her past, and the many ways I want to fuck her. Mentioning either wouldn’t go over well as a conversation starter.
“Ben?” She looks at me and waits for me to meet her eyes. “Why are you really here?”
I look away, but she continues to stare at my profile. I’m still at a loss for words. It may only just have occurred to me, but now that the thoughts are there, they’re hard to turn off. She’s everything I want in a woman. I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve never had to admit this need to anyone. This teasing and taunting between us is all a waste of time. We can continue on this path, denying and torturing ourselves, but what’s the fucking point? Unless one of us is honest, this bullshit game between us can go on forever.
Thinking these truths and voicing them are two entirely different matters.
She waits patiently.
I stare at her for a few more seconds, debating on how much I want to admit. “During our conversation this morning, I said that I cared about you and that I wanted to spend time with you. I meant it, Ella.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Her reaction pisses me off. Fuck, any other woman would swoon from my admission. I throw my napkin down in frustration. “Why is everything a fucking debate with you?”
She throws me an incredulous look. “A few weeks ago you made it very clear you wanted no part of a relationship. You didn’t have time for it. Your job was your mistress. You just ended an arrangement, and you weren’t interested in anything else. So yes, Ben, I have the right to ask. Why now?”
“Because I changed my fucking mind.”
“Coincidentally, only after you know my story? You’ve concocted some stupid theory in your mind. Now, you want to be my knight in shining armor?”
She is seriously pissing me off.
“You’re so off the mark here.” I stand to carry our plates to the kitchen and calm down. Instead of taking my seat beside her again, I choose to lean in the doorway and wait for her to speak. When minutes pass and she still sits silently, my blood simmers.
“What the fuck, Ella? Everything is so difficult with you.”
She stands and says, “There’s the door.”
Instead of kowtowing to her stupid insecurities, I stalk over to come face to face with her. “Stop it.”
“Stop what? Protecting myself?” She turns her back, shaking her head. “I don’t need you. I’ve managed just fine on my own.”
“I know you have.” I move to stand directly behind her. “Ella, being a royal bitch won’t make you like me any less. It also won’t change how I feel about you. Letting me in doesn’t make you weak.” I wrap my arms around her with my lips on her ear, I add, “Admitting you want me doesn’t make you weak, either. Take my word for it. I’ve admitted the same about you.”
She sags against me and releases a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for saying those things. I didn’t mean them,” she says remorsefully. “I’m just scared, Ben.”
“I know you didn’t, and I know you are. So am I.” I kiss her in the exact spot I kissed her the night we met. Right below her ear, where her skin feels like silk and her scent is intoxicating. She tilts her head back and to the side as her fingers grip my wrists where they rest on her hips. I pull a hand away and with the tips of my fingers trace her scar gently, before kissing it softly.
“You were only reacting to what an ass I was when we first met. It’s true, I never wanted a relationship with anyone.” I turn her slowly. Her eyes are closed. “Look at me.” She slowly opens them, staring right through to my soul. “I want one now.” Her tough act is nowhere to be found. The Ella standing before me is vulnerable. “I’ve denied what I feel. Have you been fighting your feelings for me like I have for you?”
Her lips part and she nods slowly.
“Say it.”
“Yes, I have.” Hearing her admit it takes my breath away.
“Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me.”
“If you promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
She searches my face, for what I have no idea. After a few seconds, she says, “You don’t feel sorry for me? You didn’t change your mind because of what happened to me?”
“Why would you think that?” I may want to protect her now more than ever, but that has nothing to do with my attraction toward her. “Ella, I’ve been fighting this pull I have toward you since the minute I first met you.”
She lifts on her toes and kisses me. It’s the first time she’s initiated, and my cock swells the minute her lips touch mine. Our bodies press together instantly. We each push forward to eliminate any space. Her hands on my neck tighten as our kiss progresses. This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed, but it may as well be. Kissing never excited me before. I’ve never felt as ignited as I do right now. I feel like my skin is on fire.
She presses her breasts harder against my chest when my hands slip under her tank to feel her skin. Her nipples are so hard that it feels as if there isn’t any clothing between us. My hand has a mind of its own and slips around to feel her bare breast. The hardened peak presses firmly into the palm of my hand. My curiosity gets the best of me. I frantically pull away, so I can remove her top. I need to see her, all of her.
Once she’s exposed to me, her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. She’s so perfect. My hands mechanically mold around her. I love how her breasts feel in my hands. I love how her nipples feel under the pads of my thumbs.
While still holding a breast in each hand, I kiss my favorite spot below her ear and kiss my way slowly down her body. I pull her nipple between my lips. She moans as I suck on her unashamedly. The more I taste, the more I want to taste.
“Fuck, Ella. You’re so beautiful.” Her stomach is so firm. Her skin is so smooth. My hands explore her upper body, memorizing every inch. My mouth doesn’t know where to go next. Every bit of her is as sweet as I imagined she’d be.
She takes the hem of my T-shirt between her fingers and lifts it over my head. Her eyes fleetingly meet mine before they travel over my bare chest to the waist of my jeans, and back up again. She tentatively reaches with both hands and traces the plains of my chest. Her touch pushes my cock painfully against the zipper of my jeans.
When she looks into my eyes, I’m surprised the passion that was there a few seconds ago is gone. Fear and doubt replaced it. She’s overthinking this again.
“Don’t fight this, Ella. Don’t be afraid.”
“It’s because I can’t fight it that I’m afraid.” She steps away, adding, “I’m also afraid once you have me, you’ll have satisfied your curiosity.”
Obviously, she thinks it’s just about sex. I can’t blame her. It’s not…it’s more. I can easily say the words that it’s more, but I’m not sure she’d believe me. I bend to retrieve her tank and carefully pull it over her head.
“We’ll take it slow.”
Once she’s covered, I put on my own shirt and lead her to sit beside me on the couch. The fact that she doesn’t argue confirms my suspicions. I want to do things differently with her. It’s more than just wanting to prove her wrong. She thinks my only desires are to fuck noncommittally in mindless arrangements. I want to prove I’m capable of what she probably thinks I’m incapable of. Maybe, I also want to prove it to myself.
Cocking her head to the side, she says, “You are full of surprises, Mr. Stone.”
“That’s me, man of mystery.” I kiss her chastely because kissing her harder wouldn’t help my predicament. I sporting a raging hard-on and sitting in these jeans isn’t very comfortable. “So, what is it you do on nerd night? Is Jeopardy involved?” I ask, while subtly adjusting myself.
“Don’t hate on nerd night,” she pouts adorably.
On impulse, I kiss the corner of her puckered lips and remember my situation. “Um…” I say, trying to organize my thoughts, adding, “I wouldn’t dream of it, nerd.”
She shoves me playfully. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this. I get into my pajamas, find the corniest, sappiest romantic comedy, and settle in for a night of mushy romance.”
I laugh at her confession. “My Black Belt in training likes a good sappy romance? I’d peg you as a Die Hard fan.”
“Oh, I love a great action film. That’s just too cool for nerd night.”
“Can I make a confession too?”
She gives me a sideways glance. “You’re also a closet nerd?”
“Definitely not. The day I saw you sparring at the gym? I’ve never seen anything hotter.”
“You’re just trying to butter me up.” Getting up, she goes into the kitchen and returns with more wine and another beer.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
She hands me the beer, and I automatically say, “Thanks, babe.”
“You’re welcome.” A small smile plays on her lips before she takes a sip of her wine. “So what do I do?”
“Avoid any compliment.”
“I do that?”
“Yes.”
A frown means she is contemplating my words. “I don’t know. Defense mechanism? Why do you get angry when I stand up to you?”
“I do that?” I repeat her words.
“Yes.”
I think about my response for a minute, but unfortunately my hard-on takes control of my mouth. “Because it turns me the fuck on when you do, and that makes me angry.”