Page 53 of Worth the Try
Everything changed between us after the date two weeks ago, but to look at us, almost nothing has changed at all. We haven’t gotten to go on another date, and we sure as hell haven’t tumbled back into bed with each other.
But every morning I look at her and want to pin her against a wall to kiss her senseless. And while I don’t get to pin her to a wall, exactly, I do find the time to kiss her, to squeeze her hand, to find some kind of way to let her know I want her. And every night, I look at the guesthouse and want so fucking badly to haul her into my home that my chest burns with it.
But at the same time, the idea of really going down this road with her…I can’t make it work. My life doesn’t allow it. And when the season actually starts up? Forget it. There’s barely any time for Rosalie, let alone someone like Elodie, who deserves one hundred percent of someone’s time and attention.
Speaking of the season. I need to make my weekly call to the preschool to see if they have an early opening. You’d think they’d be sick of me by now, and they probably are, but all they do is tell me that they have a slot reserved for her come September. Which is good, because no way Elodie will be interested in staying on as her nanny. I don’t blame her; she has her new business to get up and running. But maybe if I’m lucky, I can at least convince her to stay in the guesthouse.
I need Lennox. He’s my best friend, and I miss him. He’s only five hours ahead, so maybe I’ll give him a call on the way home from practice. I don’t know that he’ll have any sort of earth-shattering advice, but he’s the only one I can spill my guts to without worrying about a reaction. Certainly can’t call my parents—Dad is hyper-traditional in many ways, and Mom would start planning a wedding the second I uttered any of the thoughts swirling in my head.
Elodie breezes into the kitchen as I’m peeling a tangerine for Rosie, giving me a heart-stopping smile and nearly bringing me to my knees in the process. Her hair is down, tumbling over her shoulders in a wave of curls. “Good morning!”
“G’morning, Elle Belle!” Rosie sing-songs, then she gasps. “Yourhair!”
Elodie beams. “You like it? I thought we’d see if your hair wanted to do the same.”
Rosie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “You think my hair could do that?” She swings her gaze to me. “Daddy, can my hair do that?”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I don’t know, Rosie Posie. My styling prowess is limited to detangling spray and pigtail braids.”
“And those arewonderful,” Elodie says. “We’re going to try something new today.”
I leave the girls to it, grabbing my kit and heading to practice—but not before asking Elodie to help me look at something in the foyer.
She follows, her brows scrunched in question as we exit the kitchen. It’s not until we get to the front that I turn and yank her to me, then back her against the door to kiss her. She melts against me, her body instantly giving in as I drag my hands up her T-shirt to cup her breasts, my thumbs scraping against the stiff peaks of her nipples.
“Ansel,” she gasps.
I push my leg between her thighs, getting off on the way she grinds against me. “Fuck yes, baby.” She’s already soaked, whimpering as I kiss her neck. “Good girl for wearing these loose shorts. Can you be quiet?”
A wordless moan that I think meansyescomes out of her, and I take that as my cue. I shove my hand down the elastic waistband of her shorts and into her panties, grunting softly as my fingers slip between her wet folds.
She chokes back a noise, her hazel eyes going wide as I push into her.
“Shh,” I whisper, greedily drinking in the pleasure written all over her face. I press my thumb against her clit as I pump into her. So fucking responsive. I’ll never get over it. “Swivel those hips, baby. You’re almost there already.”
“Fffuuckkk,” she whimpers, her hands clamping onto my biceps. “Ansel, fuck, ohmygod?—”
Her walls contract as she comes, her hips jerking as the orgasm takes over. Her eyes roll back as she lets her head fall against the door, the soft thud the only sound in the foyer. I keep moving my fingers, pulling her through the climax until she goes limp against the door, her hands falling away from my arms.
“Look at me,” I command softly, pulling my hand out of her shorts.
She straightens and meets my eyes, her creamy skin flushed a beautiful pink from the orgasm.
I bring my fingers to my mouth, licking her arousal off and nearly losing my mind at how good she tastes. Before I can finish, she pulls my hand away, turning it and sucking those same fingers into her mouth.
My cock springs to attention, my jaw clenched as I fight to stay upright even as her hot, wet tongue circles my fingers. “Holy fuck,” I whisper, my attention rapt on her lips even as her eyes stay on me. I might come in my shorts.That’show good this feels.
Wordlessly, her free hand presses against my cock, and I curse again. She sucks harder, and there is no stopping her as she slides her hand into my shorts and wraps around me. I press my palm against the door above her head, getting dizzy from the dual sensations. “Elle?—”
She raises an eyebrow and pumps me, her hand and mouth beginning to move in sync as she wipes her thumb across the tip of my cock. I’m coiled tight, about to explode, and even though I know I shouldn’t let this happen—it was supposed to be about her—I can’t find it in me to make her stop. Her fuckingmouth, Jesus Christ.
She hums against my fingers, her tongue sliding between them as she grips my cock. And I explode, climaxing so hard that I see stars. I grunt as I come, needing so fucking badly to roar and being utterly unable to do so, and try to stay upright through the pleasure.
As I finish, panting so hard it feels like I’ve just run a set of stadiums, she pulls my fingers out of her mouth with a pop. “Good boy,” she purrs, her eyes alight with mischief.
“Oh,” I puff out, unable to stop the grin that spreads across my face, “you are in so much trouble for that.”
She winks even as another pretty blush stains her cheeks. “Seems I’m not the one who needs cleaning up.”
