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"She gave you the address," Hannah repeated dumbly, making it sound like betrayal.
"Everyone is really worried about you, Hannah," Elliott said, his voice soft.
"They shouldn't have even known, Mr. Michaels," she spat out his name like venom. "I told you I was taking a two week vacation, damn it. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," his voice stayed calm and he smartly resisted reminding her that she wasn't entitled to a two week vacation yet. He could imagine the rage rising in her face at that comment. "You're running away from something."
"Don't tell me what I am doing," she snapped. "Thank you for your concern. I will contact my parents and Emily and Tad and even nosy Mrs. What's-her-name next door and set the record straight," she said, slamming her coffee mug on the counter. "I will see you when I return to work," she said, turning to storm out the room.
Elliott put his mug down and gently grabbed her arm. Her entire body stilled at the contact and he walked up behind her, his body a mere whisper from hers. "I," he enunciated meaningfully, "was worried about you, Hannah."
Her shoulder slumped slightly and her head dipped forward.
"It obviously isn't a coincidence that you ran off out here the night after we slept together," he said, his hand sliding up her arm toward her shoulder where he ran his hand over her hair. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you about..."
"There's nothing to talk about," she broke in hastily, quick to try to brush it under the rug.
Elliott leaned forward, his lips brushing next to her ear. "We both know that isn't true." He resisted the urge to turn her around to face him, but her embarrassment was tangible, a vibrating aura around her whole body. She wasn't someone who liked these kinds of conversations and he was willing to spare her the awkwardness of having to face him because he wasn't exactly great with communication either.
"It's not going to happen again."
"Which is exactly what you said to yourself the first time, isn't it?" he asked, and she stiffened. "It is going to happen again. And again. And again. If I have anything to say about it. But we need to talk about it like adults."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But you do want me," he said, unconcerned about her discomfort any longer, he turned her to face him and tipped her chin up with his thumb. "Tell me," he urged, sounding more needy than he liked.
"Yes," she answered, looking downward.
Elliott saw a pink rising in her cheeks, completely charming. Before he spoke again, he leaned down quickly and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Her eyes shot up to his quickly, shocked. "So let's talk about it," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the table.
He had never been in the position of demanding better communication. He had always been on the receiving end of women wanting to sit down and "have a talk" about where their relationships (or lack thereof) was going. It felt awkward and forced. He was on foreign soil and he was somehow leading the troop.
Hannah's face was trained on her cup of coffee, but her shoulders were pulled back and high.
"This thing with us," he started, visibly wincing at the word "us", "if we're honest with ourselves, it isn't going to stop."
"It has to," Hannah broke in, looking up for a moment, her chin lifted and her eyes fierce.
"But it won't," he shook his head, smiling a little. "We are in close contact all day and all night..."
"You could transfer me," Hannah suggested, her tone unhappy at the prospect. No matter what her issues with him might be, she liked her job. And she was good at her job. He honestly didn't want to lose her as an employee either. She was the most competent, dedicated assistant. Her pride wouldn't allow her to do anything less than impeccable work.
"No," he said, a clipped, final word on the subject. "There's no reason we can’t be coworkers at work and then something else outside of work." A blush rushed into her cheeks and he almost laughed, knowing that she was probably thinking what he was- that they had already screwed around at work. "Look I get the feeling this is all new to you- the whole casual affair thing. But it doesn't have to impact work."
"Sex changes," she mumbled almost to herself.
"It doesn't have to change anything. We are both professional. We can keep it separate if we want. And I want to."
He watched her for a few seconds, expecting, hoping for some kind of response from her. His suit was starting to feel itchy, uncomfortable. This was still so strange for him. Realizing she wasn't about to say anything, he scooted his chair closer to hers- his knees pressing into the sides of her thighs.
Her whole body tensed. A long moment passed before he brushed her soft hair away from her face, putting his hand under her chin and waiting for her to raise her eyes to his. When she did, he saw the wavering; her desire battling with her innate prudence. "Say yes," he said, his voice more pleading than he had ever heard it.
"Yes," she said a second later.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Yes? Yes? What the hell was she thinking? Agreeing to an affair was certainly not going to help the situation. She hadn't even gotten a chance to figure out what she was going to do about the whole situation for goodness sakes.
