Page 30 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Thirty

Lex

After Landon left, I made my way to the pool house and because I know Ellenore will be up soon, I made my way inside and started a pot of coffee. Afterward, I made a cup for myself and carried it out onto the front porch so I could ignore it while I watched the sun rise.

When I heard the faint sounds of her stirring inside the house about thirty minutes later, I told myself to get up and go inside.

Tell her that I know she tried to quit. Apologize for my part in making her new life here so unbearable that she gave up on it before it even really started.

Agree to do whatever she wants me to do, as long as she stays.

I can fix it with my brother. He’s firing her because of me, not because he wants to.

He’ll think I’ve lost my goddamned mind but he’ll back off if I tell him I changed my mind.

And if not, then I’ll go with plan B. Landon isn’t the only McLeod that knows how to use manipulation and coercion to get what he wants.

But instead of doing any of that, I just sat on the porch and listened to her argue with her cat, drink her coffee and get ready for the day.

When she finally headed back into the bedroom, I got up and followed her.

New plan of attack formed, I waited until I heard the shower before I pushed my way into the bedroom.

I told myself to get some clean clothes and head over to the main house.

Shower there and get a jump on breakfast with Cassie.

Afterward, while Cassie got dressed for the day, I’d tell Ellenore I’m ready to play nice.

That I thought it over and decided that she’s right.

That we can work together. That I want to work together because it’s what’s best for Cassie.

I got as far as the bed before I gassed out because it’s where I was twenty-four hours ago.

I had Ellenore’s clothes tumbling in the dryer, my face buried between her legs and her fingers wrapped in my hair while I devoured her perfect little pussy like a starving man.

I’d planned on making her breakfast afterward.

At some point between bringing her home and waking up beside her, I’d decided I liked her.

Really liked her.

I wanted to spend more time with her. Time that didn’t involve getting her naked and making her come. I wanted to get to know her.

And that scared the shit out of me.

So instead, I put her in a cab, gave her a peck on the cheek and sent her on her way because I’d come to the realization that guys like me and girls like Ellenore don’t really mix.

What really drove the point home was that I made the mistake of picking up her phone when it buzzed on the nightstand.

Derek the Ex-Boyfriend has been texting her.

Even though I know it’s a dick move, I can’t stop myself from scrolling through them and reading every one.

Derek: I miss you.

Derek: I mean it, Elle

I really miss you.

Derek: Please say

something.

Derek: I made a mistake.

Derek: I never should’ve

broken-up with you.

Derek: I want you back.

Derek: I called your mom.

She said you’re living in

California with Dani.

Dani, Elle?!? You know

how I feel about her.

Derek: A one-night-stand

with some loser you met at

a bar? Are you

out of your mind?

Derek: Jesus, Elle,

a motorcycle?

Seriously?

Derek: I’m not mad.

I’m not. This isn’t

anything we can’t work

through. I forgive you, okay?

I forgive you.

Derek: Just come to New York,

Elle. Just come here and we can

pretend that the last three months

never happened.

Derek: Please just answer me.

I’m going crazy here.

The last batch came through this morning, and it dawns on me that I don’t even know her mother’s name , let alone her phone number.

That if I called her on the phone, she’d have no idea who I was.

I don’t know what it is about her friend Dani that would make her so objectionable, other than the fact that she lives in a bad neighborhood and foists her adorably awkward friends onto strangers in bars.

That everything I know about Ellenore Pierce could be summed up in a few sentences.

I know she’s a Stephen King fan.

I know that she talks to her cat like he’s a person and that even though I should find it off-putting and weird, I don’t.

I know that that Derek asshole convinced her he was the only guy dumb enough to give her the time of day and then he dumped her because he thought it was time for an upgrade.

Someone prettier. More exciting. Someone who wears lace panties and high heels and flips her hair and tells him how smart and handsome he is.

I’ve only known Ellenore for roughly forty-eight hours but I already know what an idiot he is for thinking he’d find someone better than her.

And Derek the Ex-Boyfriend apparently knows it too because he wants her back.

She hasn’t answered him.

Hasn’t told him yes but she hasn’t told him no either, which means she’s either on the fence or decided to make him sweat a little before giving in.

Because Ellenore is smart and focused. Knows exactly what she wants.

Who she wants—and despite the fact that she keeps letting me get her naked, I’m pretty sure it isn’t a college dropout who lives in his famous brother’s pool house and spends his days cutting the crusts off of PB&Js and debating the perfect chocolate syrup to milk ratio for chocolate milk with his six-year-old niece.

She’ll want someone just as smart and focused as she is. Someone with goals. A plan. Someone stable and dependable.

Someone with a life .

A real life.

In other words, someone who isn’t me.

I’m wrong for her in just about every way.

I imagine a woman like Ellenore has a check list of what makes a guy Mr. Right and I can guaran- fucking -tee that Derek the Ex-Boyfriend tics every damn box.

The only thing a guy like me is good for is teaching the right guy a lesson in humility.

It would serve me right for the way I’ve treated her but fuck me if I’m not ready to kill something at the thought of it.

Either way, I’m pretty sure that when my brother instructed me to be helpful and accommodating , this isn’t what he meant.

Before I can stop or even ask myself what the fuck I think I’m doing, I’m tossing her phone back onto the nightstand and stalking my way across the bedroom.

Pushing my way into the bathroom, I just stand in the open doorway and stare at the huge, walk-in shower like I’ve never seen a naked woman before.

Because I’m obviously some kind of pervert, I watch while she washes her long, dark hair, head tipped back under the waterfall shower feature, raining down on her from the center of the ceiling.

Let my gaze follow the rivulets of water that run down her back to trace the curve of her heart-shaped ass.

Under her plump little cheeks to cling to the inside of her thighs.

Jesus Christ.

“You quit.” My voice is full of gravel, so low and uneven, it gets lost under the steady drum of the shower she’s taking. Clearing it, I try again. “ You quit .”

This time she hears me, giving me one of her adorable little yelps, as she turns her head toward the sound of my voice while she swipes at the river of shampoo suds running into her eyes.

“Lex?” Face finally clear enough to risk a look, she cracks an eyelid to aim a dark brown eye in my direction.

When she confirms her suspicions that I’m perving out on her in the shower, that lone brown eye widens slightly. “What are you doing in here?”

Debating the finer points of jerking off while I watch you wash your hair.

Instead of saying it out loud or doing what any half-sane person would do, which is mumble some half-assed excuse for why I’m in the bathroom while it’s obviously occupied, I reach up to snag the collar of my T-shirt.

Dragging it up and over my head, I toss it in the direction of the hamper before dropping my hands to the waistband of my jeans.

Flicking the top button from its loop, the movement draws her attention to the fact that I’m hard as stone.

And then I stop. Wait. Give her the chance to tell me no. Ask me what the hell I think I’m doing. Start screaming at me to get the hell out.

When she doesn’t do any of those things, I finish the job, jerking my pants and boxer briefs to my feet before stepping out of them.

“It’s quiz time, Ellenore,” I tell her, my tone low and tight as I stalk my way toward her.

Walking into the shower, I make myself stop again.

Watch while she shifts and maneuvers herself until she’s on the other side of the showerhead and pressed against the far side of the shower.

“Are you going to spank me again if I answer wrong?” she asks, her features distorted by the torrent of water between us. The hope I hear in her voice is damn near enough to snap the last, tenuous thread of my self-control.

“I’ve never spanked you, Ellenore.” Closing the distance she’s put between us, I step through the water to press a hand against the cold tiles above her head and lean into her.

“I smacked your ass for sassing me.” Lifting my free hand, I cup her full, wet breast and use the pad of my thumb to tease its nipple.

“Trust me when I tell you there’s a difference. ”

“It didn’t feel different,” she murmurs it, her hot, dark gaze trained on my mouth. Watching it shift into a smirk, her expression darkens into a frown and she lifts her gaze to find mine. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No...” I let my hand slip away from her breast. Down her ribcage to follow the curve of her hip and over her ass to give it a gentle squeeze. “But, when I spank you, you’ll definitely feel the difference.”

“ When ?” She tilts her head back to look at me and runs a nervous tongue over her bottom lip. “What does that mean? When as in—”

“ Shhh ...” I whisper it against her mouth before catching that lush bottom lip of hers between my teeth, biting it hard enough to make her gasp.

“No talking out of turn during the test,” I tell her before running the tip of my tongue over the lip I just abused, licking and nipping my way across her slightly parted mouth, grazing my teeth along her jawline on my way to her ear.

“Who makes you come, Ellenore?” Just in case she needs a reminder, I slide my hand over her hip again, this time pushing it between us to tease the stretch of skin below her bellybutton with the rough pad of my thumb.

“You…” She gasps again when I deliver a punishing nip to her earlobe with my teeth.

“You make me come,” she says, remembering the rules of our dirty little game.

“You do—you make me come,” she whimpers, opening her legs in eager invitation while her arms come up to wrap around my neck in an effort to keep herself upright. “Please, Lex…”

“Me…” I growl in her ear. Forehead pressed into the crook of her shoulder, I press my lips against the side of her neck, the thrum of her pulse tingling against my mouth.

“I do, Ellenore,” I tell her, skimming the slight, soft curve of her stomach with my fingertips before pushing them lower to trace the hot, swollen seam of her pussy. “I’m the one who makes you come.”

“Yes...” She turns her head and moans it softly in my ear, her hands and fingers gripping at my shoulders and neck when I reward us both by pushing past her entrance to fuck my fingers into her, deep and slow.

“ Ohmygod ,” she moans again when I find her clit, slicking my thumb over that tight, throbbing bundle of nerves, again and again until she starts to shake.

One of her hands slips higher on my neck to grip the back of my hair, pulling it so hard I can feel it loosening from its roots. “ Lex …”

Lifting my head against her grip, I straighten myself so I can look down at her. Watch her face while I fuck her with my fingers. “Open your eyes, Ellenore,” I murmur, dipping my head to kiss her slightly parted mouth. “Look at me.”

Her eyes open slowly, lids struggling against the thick, warm weight of the orgasm I’m building inside her. “Who makes me hard?” Flexing my hips, I hiss out a curse when the head of my throbbing cock brushes against the inside of her soft thigh. “Who makes me so goddamned hard I can’t—”

The hand in my hair falls off the back of my head before I can even finish the question, slipping down the back of my neck, its fingers sliding between my pecs to trace my trembling abs.

“I do,” she says, wrapping her fingers around the base of my shaft.

Still looking up at me, she moves her hand, pumping my rock-hard cock in her fist before sweeping her thumb over the head of it.

“I make you hard, Lex.” The words tumble out of her mouth in a breathless rush, seconds before I feel her thighs start to shake while the walls of her pussy start to milk the length of my fingers.

“I’m coming,” she moans softly, the fingers of her free hand digging into my shoulder. “ Lex, I’m… ”

“ Jesus Christ ...” The hand I have pressed against the wall slips into her hair to grip the back of her neck, tilting her mouth up to meet mine while my fingers keep moving inside her, keep fucking her, even as I’m flexing and thrusting my hips into the tight pump of her hand until I’m coming with her, my cock jerking and spasming against her grip.

“Are you still mad at me?”

We’ve been like this for a while. My fingers still buried inside her. Her hand still wrapped around my dick.

I don’t want to answer her. I want to turn her around and push her against the tile. Fuck her with my bare cock from behind. I want to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. Crawl between her legs and pin her to the bed with my tongue.

Because the answer is yes.

Yes, I am.

I’m so fucking mad at her I can barely see straight, but not for the reasons she thinks.

I’m angry at her for trying to quit.

I’m angry at her because her ex has been texting her practically non-stop since the night we met.

Because he knows her mother’s name and I don’t.

Because he called me the loser from the bar and it’s a pretty accurate descriptor.

Because Killian was right—I’m falling for her and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it.

Because, despite all of the above and the fact that I know that it’s the mother of all bad ideas, I can’t seem to stop fucking her.

Instead of answering her, I slowly pull my fingers from her pussy, and even though the shower is still running behind me, I pop them into my mouth and lick them clean, just so I can have a taste of her.

Like I knew it would, watching me suck her juices off my fingers makes her blush, and the bloom of it in her cheeks goes straight to my cock.

When it jerks in her grip her eyes widen and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Reaching down, I gently peel her fingers off of me and step back, putting some much needed space between us. “I’ll let you finish your shower,” I say before turning away from her to make my escape.