Page 51 of Quiet Beautiful Things

“She sure does love cats,” I say. “I was considering getting her one. What do you think?”

“Good idea,” she signs. “Teaches responsibility.”

“I’m glad you like the idea. Will you go with us to the pet store? It could be a fun outing.”

She shakes her head.

Ellie: No. But I’ll go with you to an animal shelter. You should adopt, not buy. She’s tooyoung to understand, but someday she will. Someone’s unwanted pet is another person’s best friend.

I read her text several times wondering if the meaning is so much deeper. She herself was unwanted by someone. It’s not the first time I’ve wondered just how much this affects everything she does. Too deep a conversation to get into right now.

“I should go,” she signs.

“You don’t have to. You could”—I start signing—“stay for a drink.”

Her gaze goes to the door, then back to me as she contemplates my offer. She sticks up one finger.

Wasting no time, I smile and go into the kitchen for two wine glasses. Then I motion down the hallway and sign, “You pick the wine.”

She looks amused and heads down the hall. Maisy’s room used to be where I stored all my wine. But now, the wine racks have all been moved into my home office. Ellie flicks on the light and peruses the bottles. She pulls out and studies three or four before making her selection and handing it to me.

“You have great taste,” I say, not telling her she picked the most expensive bottle in the lot. Not that she’d care.

It’s interesting that Ellie and I both had the same type of upbringing. We were raised by very well-off families, sent to public schools not private, taught to appreciate our position, and brought up to respect money, not covet it. Yet sometimes I feel we’re worlds apart. In an instant, it becomes my mission to close that gap.

Back in the kitchen, I open the bottle and pour her a glass. She sips it and groans audibly, as if she instantly knows it’s of the highest quality. She licks her lips. That’s it. I can’t stand it any longer. I take her glass, put it on the counter and cage heragainst the refrigerator with my arms. “I should have done this the other night,” I say, right before I lean in and kiss her.

Her lips part instantly for mine. My tongue darts into her mouth, knowing this kiss will be even better than the one before. Because today she tastes like my wine.

I moan into her mouth. She must feel the vibrations and her hands come up to grasp my neck. I snake mine around her back and hold her tightly to me as our tongues explore each other’s mouths. We kiss until we’re out of breath, then my lips trail down her jaw and the cords of her neck. She tastes divine.

She grips me harder, her hands tugging on my hair. I take the opportunity to work my hand around to her front, up the side of her rib cage and over her right breast. She gasps but doesn’t pull away, breathing heavily as my lips capture hers again. With one hand back on my neck, her other runs down my arm and settles just above my ass. There’s already nothing between us, but she presses firmly anyway. I like that she wants us closer even though we’re as close as we can be.

Touching her over her shirt isn’t enough. I want to feel her skin. See her breasts. Lick her nipples.

I grind my erection into her and whisper close to her ear, “I want to see you, Ellie.”

Shit. I pull back, embarrassed that for a moment I forgot she can’t hear me. I look into her eyes, gauging whether or not she felt my whisper on her ear. I don’t think she did.

But pulling away has broken the spell. I can see it on her face.

“We can’t,” she signs. “Maisy.”

“But you’d be okay if Maisy weren’t in the other room?” I ask.

She bites her lip, shrugging.

Fuck me, that’s a yes if I ever saw one. I get out my phone and make a quick call.

Ellie puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head, and gives me a questioning stare.

“Allie will be here in twenty minutes. We’re going to your place.”

Chapter Eighteen

18

Ellie

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