It's been four weeks since I've been out of the hospital. Four weeks since I've touched Ellie. Four fucking weeks.
I pump my dick with my hand. The water runs down my body to cool the heat blistering through my veins. I should have suggested something other than we share a bed. Fuck knows why I do half the shit I do around Ellie. But this time, I know. I'm a sick bastard- that's why.
I want her close, even if I don't get to touch her. Knowing she's in my bed, her body near mine, is enough to embarrass me. My head falls back as I jerk myself to a release. This has become an occurrence, jerking myself off to thoughts of Ellie. The fucking sad part? Half the time, my mind doesn't even think of her doing anything dirty; I'm thinking about how she looks in those sexy as fuck sun dress she wears or how her eyes used to lit up when I praised the work she did. Or her smile when I gave in and would watch Disney movies that I fucking hated in bed on most Friday nights.
I'm just thinking about her, and I need to snap the fuck out of it. Usually, once I have fucked someone, I've satisfied the itch and can move on, but not with Ellie. One night wasn't enough, and then one night turned into every night and even some days, and it still would if my heart worked fucking correctly, so now I'm here, thinking about the woman I've fallen in love with but can't fucking have. Call me a glutton for punishment.
What makes it worse is tonight we have to wine and dine, Frankie Kincaid, knowing he has a hard-on for Ellie. She doesn't see it, but I do. I've noticed how he always finds a reason to talk to her and makes her laugh about fuck knows what. He's not even fucking funny.
But he's an old acquaintance, and the money he'll bring in is enough to make me shut up. For now.
She's not yours anymore, I remind myself, but it's a fucking lie. She's wormed her way inside me, and she will always be fucking mine. Even if I can't have her.
I wrap a towel around my waist and open the door. Thankful, Ellie seems to have left the hotel room. I decide to dress quickly, grabbing an Armani button-up shirt and pants. I glance at my watch to see that there are about twenty minutes until we need to make our way downstairs, so I go through my emails, but then the smell of her perfume wafts through the bedroom. She's back from wherever she went, and my chest pounds.
She walks through the door, and I feel my mouth dry, and my crotch constrict. Her hair is pulled up, with pieces falling to frame her face. A silk emerald green dress cut just above the knee, her nipples nearly cutting through the material. I want to rip her dress off and lick my way up her entire body, but I also want to cover her up and tell her to change. I shouldn't give a fuck about what she's wearing, but I do. I want to smack her ass for causing my dick to ache the way it does. But I don't.
I look up at her stunning face, and her eyes soften slightly. I swallow and say; "You look beautiful." And she does.
Her cheeks tinge pink again, and I see how her chest heaves slightly. She's looking me up and down slowly as though she's trying to remember every detail and save it for later. Want and something softer heavy in her eyes. But then it's gone, and in its place is anger again.
"Thank you." She replies curtly.
It kills me that I'm the one that dimmed her sunshine, and it takes everything in me not to drag her towards me. I close my laptop instead and clear my throat.
"We should go."
She nods and follows me out as I close the door behind us. Ellie's back now faces me, Fuck me; her dress is backless, tied at the base of her neck. It would fall to the floor if I pulled on the tiny little string. Don't go there. She doesn't need you to mess with her head. I tuck my hands in my pockets, stopping myself from touching her, from tracing my fingers down her spine. And go to a dinner I couldn't care less about.