The pull of pleasure over her body was beautiful to watch. I wanted to rub myself all over her, feel the weight of her perfect breasts in my hands, suck at her skin to taste her. I wanted to slide my fingers into her and feel her walls clench tight, to feel how slick and slippery and ready for me she was. But all I had was the friction of my own palm and the coldness of the window glass beneath my touch.
Her breath was fogging up the glass and mine was too.
I wanted to kiss her. Wanted to tangle my tongue in her mouth and fuck her with it until she groaned. I wanted to lift her up and plunge inside her, without a care for who saw me claim her.
But right then, the only thing I was doing was stroking my cock, alone in a dusty building site, drinking in the sight of her like she was some cash-grabbing whore. I wasn’t prepared to disrespect her like that.
I wasn’t going to let myself come until I could come inside her. That was where I was meant to be, and this wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction I was craving. She might have thought she wanted this, but I didn’t. I wanted more.
Already the glass under my hand felt wrong.
She looked so beautiful, still panting and flushed, and she’d look all the more perfect up close, next to me. I wasn’t going to ruin it by giving in when I was so close to having her for real.
When her eyes fluttered closed and her body convulsed beautifully, I forced my hand away from my heavy cock, knowing the ache in my balls was going to be excruciating.
Blue balls was a feeling I’d gotten used to in all the weeks of watching her. But this was going to trump anything I’d felt so far. The ache of them would keep me focused and true. My seed was all for her, and I wasn’t going to waste one single drop. Every single sperm belonged to her. They all held the building blocks of our future and for the first time in my life, I knew I wasn’t meant to end my days alone.
Over the years I’d seen my colleagues find women and settle down. I’d always thought them selfish, careless. Thought they were wrong to bring a woman into a life like this, where there can never be guarantees. But I never knew it was possible to feel the way I already felt about Elizabeth. I was converted. Love was real and that had to be what I was feeling. Nothing apart from her mattered. My life plan had only one goal and that was to give her the family that she didn’t have.
I was going to make her mine, and when it happened, there wasn’t going to be a sheet of glass between us. That much I could promise. This had gone on far too long.
CHAPTER 13
Elizabeth
He was meant to take what I’d given him in the window. That show I gave was meant to be all I let him have. All I let myself give. I was supposed to get him out of my head so I could do what I had to do. No more games.
But then there was a note through the door.
10:30 Patisserie Valerie. Kings Road. I’ll be waiting for you Sugar.
I got there early.
How ridiculous could a girl be?
I waited in the back of the French patisserie, in the small room packed with tables. It was part of a chain, which meant that although the food was perfect and the place was small, verging on cramped, it was crowded. And it seemed wise that I didn’t go anywhere where I could be cornered.
I was early enough to choose a table in full view of the rest of the small dining area. Though I don’t know why I bothered. Maybe I was worried he’d try to drag me off to the back room to dissolve my brain through my ears with more of his fantastic tongue torture.
Coincidentally, I managed to pick the table in the corner, though with the way the tables were packed in, and lined up directly with the entryway, it was far from tucked away or private.
I ordered a hot chocolate and did mental calculations about the amount of money in my wallet and what I was going to have for dinner before I ordered a pastry to go with it.
When Maxim walked in, a table full of kids who couldn’t have been more than twelve were dominating the small space, loud and uncaring that not everybody in the world cared about their friend’s latest picture on instagram or who had a crush on some boy named Aaron. His jaw visibly rippled, and I had to struggle not to laugh.