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I didn’t know why he was even talking about the investment, or trying to convince me of its validity. “She touched you? Pulled out your dick in the middle of the plane?”
“Under a blanket, but yes.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of one hand. “I swear, when I woke up, it was already hard. I don’t know how the fuck that happened, but—”
“Is this why you got mad last night?” This was too much. The rollercoaster of emotions. The financial highs and lows. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he’d just gotten paid. I would sell Olive Line. I’d get the selling bonus that Brad and Julia had offered and we’d be flush for at least six months. Long enough for him to find another client, or another deal, or convince his current portfolio to make fresh deposits. We didn’t need this, but I was also struggling to wrap my head around the fact that Easton had just walked away from a six-figure paycheck. “And it’s done? You’re definitely not getting paid? She was okay with that?”
His chin lifted stubbornly, his eyes arrestingly blue. “Is that what you care about?”
“I care about everything. I care that you’re mad at me, for a reason that I can’t figure out. I care about putting us back together, in a way that gets us past whatever has gotten us off track. I care about the fact that you got assaulted on a plane last night. And YES, I care about the fact that the woman who hand-raped you saved a hundred thousand dollars in the process.”
“You’re being overdramatic.”
“No, I’M NOT. If that was a guy who fingered a sleeping girl on a plane, he’d be in jail right now. She sexually assaulted you. That’s what she did, and you could sue her or threaten her but what you shouldn’t have done was do her any favors. And she got pissed? What the fuck was SHE PISSED ABOUT?” I inhaled sharply, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. I’m going to work.” He tried to move past me and I grabbed him, clawing at his arms and chest when he tried to shove me away.
“TALK TO ME,” I screamed as he got away and stomped toward the front door. I picked up his wet coffee cup and flung it at him, the heavy mug hitting the door just as he slammed it closed.
I ran through the entry and out the door, pausing for a moment at the rain, which was starting to fall, the drops dotting across the white driveway. I ran forward, my bare feet scraping on the stepping stones, and I caught him halfway down the walkway. He came to a stop, his white dress shirt already dotted with rain, the drops staining my Ann Taylor sheath.
“I was mad last night because I felt like I fucked up.” He spoke quietly but the words carried over the rain, the sound of defeat heavy in the tones. “I fucked up by not getting the commission. I fucked up by putting myself in a situation with another woman where that happened. And I felt the weight of all that when I saw you last night, in that big fucking house, coming alive under his hands. I’m not good enough for you, and it scares the ever-living shit out of me.”
“You are good enough for me. You are made for me.” He had to know that. He had to know that my life would be nothing without him, without our love. I circled him carefully, worried he would move, and wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging my cheek against his damp back, shielding my face against the increasing downpour. “Listen to me. Things are crazy right now, but I need you here beside me. I can’t have us cracked. I need you.”
He turned and I stayed in place, retightening my grip and burying my cheek against the wet front of his shirt. He lifted his hand, almost hesitantly, and gently brushed the sodden strands back off my forehead. “I know how much we needed that money.”
“No. Not that badly. What we need is us. What she did to you…” I knotted my fists in the bottom of his shirt and moved in closer to him, almost yelling to be heard over the rain. “It was criminal. But you chose us when you walked away from that deal. And that’s one of the reasons why I love you so much.” He dipped his head and our wet lips met, just a brush of cold contact, then a pause.
“I love you, Elle. I’m so—”
“I know.” I lifted on my toes and met his mouth, my hand stealing up his shirt, my kiss greedy for more. He pulled me closer, his hands roughly moving down and gripping my ass, pulling me tight as he kissed along the open neck of my dress.
