“Clearly I am for agreeing to do this project with you, a moody, asshole-ish fucker.”
“Sorry if that was meant to be an insult . . . but it wasn’t.”
“I don’t care.” She puts her hands on her hips and huffs.
“Yes, you do.”
She steps into me, her finger hitting my chest with each word. “No. I. Don’t.” I snort and shake my head at her. It seems that’s more than enough to set her off. “You are the most pigheaded, frustrating person I have ever met.”
“Me?” I kick a piece of wood. “Everything has to be your goddamn way. On your time frame. And God forbid I value your opinions and input—”
“What are you—”
“I don’t take orders from anybody, Sinclair, least of all you.”
“Tough shit. You’re stuck with me.”
Therein lies the problem.
“Tough shit?” I counter.
“You heard me. You can take all of your I’m-A-Sharpe-I-Rule-The-World bullshit and shove it where the sun don’t shine.”
I laugh. Head back, body shaking. She’s like a ball of fire in a pixie’s body and God, how I want that body.
So why is she like that with me and not her prick of a fiancé?
“You’re a real piece of work, Elle.”
Her smile drips with sarcasm much like her words do when she speaks. “Yep. Sure am. I’ll gladly take this piece of work and actually work instead of purposefully avoiding you at all costs like you do me.”
“Perfect. Please do. But your feet have to be moving in order to do that so . . . run along.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You know what? Never mind. I’m going to stay right here just to piss you off. Since you don’t like me—”
“Don’t like you?” I bellow as I drag a hand through my hair and take a few steps away from her. “Don’t like you? Jesus fucking Christ, Ellery, all I can think about every day, every goddamn moment, is how bad I fucking like you.” I turn to meet her eyes. “How bad I fucking want you. But I’m trying to respect you. Respect our partnership. And the fact that you’re engaged to that pretentious prick who was here earlier. So excuse me for staying the fuck away from you, for avoiding you, but Jesus, a man can only take so much.”
She stands before me, a disaster of a mess. Hair sticking out of her ponytail, drywall dust on her cheek, a scratch with dried blood on her arm, and just blinks at me like I’m fucking crazy.
Well, it feels that way.
“What did you just say?” she whispers.
“You heard me.” My voice is ten times louder.
“No, actually I didn’t.”
“I called your fiancé a pretentious prick who came to mark his territory for all to see while walking around here like he owns the place when in fact, it’s you who does. Me who does. That’s what I fucking said.”
“He’s not my fiancé.”
My laugh is loud and mocking. “Yeah. Sure. That’s not what the newspaper said at the I’m-an-Asshole-Architect-of-the-Year award ceremony the last week.”
Ellery looks at me with a clarity I haven’t seen before. “He’s not my fiancé. I went with him so he could save face.” To save face? Pretentious and a fucking pathetic excuse for a man. She takes a few steps toward me. “But that’s not what I meant when I asked you what you just said. Say it again.”
“What? That he’s a pretentious prick?”
“No, you stubborn ass. The other part.”
She’s close. Too close. I reach out to pick a piece of drywall from her hair as I rack my brain to remember the word vomit I just spewed.
I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing damn well what I said. Desperate to repeat it. Terrified at the same time. “You mean the part about how bad I fucking want you?”
She nods and swallows forcibly as her eyes dart to my lips. “We’re partners, Ford.”
“I’m aware.”
“It would be a mistake to . . .” Her voice cracks, and I nod.
“It would. But it would also be a travesty not to.”
She runs a hand down my chest. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur as I reach out and cup the side of her face with my hand.
She leans in, the warmth of her breath hitting my lips as she whispers, “But I prefer mistakes over travesties any day.”
“Thank fuck for that.” The groan I emit as I drag her against me is accented by the thunder that rumbles outside. My body coils tight as my lips find hers. As my mouth takes, my tongue delves, and my every sensation wants.
Jesus Christ. I was right.
This woman. Her taste. Fucking addictive.
And I can’t get enough.
Drywall dust falls all around us as her hands fist in my hair and our mouths meet over and over and over in what feels like a free-for-all that both of us are lost in. That both of us never want to be found in.
We move backwards as our hands claim and our lips demand.
More.
Now.
I need more.
Of her.
Of this.
Of the moment.
Just fucking her.
“Ford,” she groans as I lace open-mouthed kisses up the exposed line of her neck. “I don’t want to want you, but I’m so tired of trying not to.”
I fist my hand in her hair and pull her head back so I can meet her eyes. “Then stop trying.”
And fuck do her lips tempt me. Do they own me. Do they call for me to have every goddamn ounce of restraint I can muster while shredding it simultaneously.
Then stop trying.
I heed my own advice and delve back in with my tongue and lips and hands as she pulls my shirt over my head, and I fumble with the clasp of her bra beneath hers.
We stumble through doorways as we push down our pants and trip over shoes as we try to toe them off.
I look for somewhere to lay her down. Somewhere that’s not covered in dust or dangerous because time is of the essence, and I simply don’t have the willpower to wait any longer.
As it is, I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime.
“Here,” she murmurs as her hand that slides between my boxer briefs and my cock finds purchase.
My groan is guttural, but it’s got nothing on the sensations overwhelming me right now.
The taste of her kiss.
The smell of her skin.
The demand in her touch.
The sound of her pleas.
Fuck this woman is going to drive me mad if I’m not inside her right fucking now.
“Ellery,” I say as we bump against the door she’s opening and push our way into her room.
We’re a mess of fumbling hands and busy mouths as we kick off our pants and kiss each other without coming up for air.
Desperation like I’ve never known eats at me, claws at me, consumes me.
“Wait,” she murmurs as she steps away and heads to the bathroom, giving me a damn fine view of her ass as she swings her hips.
I take the moment, brief as it is, to shake the drywall dust from my hair as best I can, and then stroke my cock as I wait for her.
When her feet pad back into the room, I look up to find Ellery Sinclair, little miss prepared, holding up a condom by her fingertips with a taunting smile on her lips.