Page 114 of Ruled By Rivalry

“I think I might want to approach this thing not overprepared for once.” My head fell back against the door. “Someone said to me once that there are misunderstandings waiting to happen when you do a lot of research but don’t actually talk to the other relevant party.”

“Someone sounds smart.”

I shrugged, and he bit the spot behind my ear teasingly, lovingly.

“Rude,” he gasped at my dismissal of his intelligence, in sync with the buckle of his belt finally opening. “You were just talking about how you underestimated me. Did my brain not make that list?”

I was distracted, so all I teasingly whispered against his skin was “No comment.” Then, “I know you didn’t want to sleep with me—”

Elliot brought just enough distance between us to look at me, both of his hands on my cheeks, making sure our eyes stayed locked. “You misunderstand. Wanting was never the issue.”

“Okay, well, you didn’t. Because . . .” I hesitated.

“Because?”

“You think I want it to be special? In a hotel room with rose petals on the bed and candles lighting the way? Because I shouldn’t lose my virginity in a meeting room against the table or on a chair or . . . ?” I stopped talking because I was all out of examples.

Elliot snickered, then kissed the tip of my nose. “I think you’re old enough to decide when and where and how you want to have sex, Maeve.”

Hope fizzled in my core, thick and hot. “But you—”

“I just didn’t want you to regret it. Me.” His head shook against mine. “I don’t think I could’ve taken it, watching you leave, the way everyone else ends up doing.” Allegra cheated. His grandfather cared more about business decisions than his grandson’s well-being. “There’s never been a lot of love to go around in my life; it’s always this . . . conditional transaction expiring once I don’t live up to some perfect billionaire heir fantasy. I wouldn’t have survived sleeping with you and not having the certainty that you’re mine afterward.”

My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest when I asked, “Is that what I am? Yours?”

His eyes trailed to my hand still between us, resting on the waistband of his pants. “God, I hope so.”

When he looked back up, something in his gaze had shifted. Pupils dark, breathing a little heavier. The possibility of it really happening, right here and right now, in a library at the Ashwood Annual, was dawning on him.

“Logistically—”

But I shook my head. “Here. Now.” I couldn’t possibly wait another second. Not just because of that pulsing need between my legs, always present when we were in the same room, but because of his sweet words and the vulnerability in his confession.

I wanted him so badly it hurt. “Please.”

Our mouths collided again, and it felt different this time. Sure. Steady. Deep. His lips traveled down my neck, across my collarbones, and his hands trailed across the fabric of my dress until they slipped below it, and Elliot was on his knees.

Smirked sheepishly.

Disappeared under the skirt of the dress.

Pulled my panties to the side.

It was all going terribly fast, and I couldn’t thank him enough.

He let his tongue lick all the way up to my clit, deliciously slow. In the same way he’d kissed me that first time in the elevator.

You’d think that with just a wooden door between us and everyone, Elliot would want to continue moving quickly. We’d gone from vulnerable confessionals to him between my legs within minutes.

But once there, he took his sweet time. Brought me close to orgasm and stopped just before that point of no return. Let me squirm against the door, let me grab his hair through the fabric, let me get close over and over again before finally emerging from below my dress.

Blond hair tousled, red sheen on his cheeks, with the expression of a man who’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted in life.

“You’re sure?” he asked, kissing me again, holding me gently, and playing with the few strands framing my face.

My laugh was hoarse, full of disbelief and impatience. “If you’re not inside of me in the next three minutes, I’m going to die.”

“It might ruin the dress—”