Page 55 of Love At First Fright
“No.”
“Then what?”
Ellis hesitated. “I can’t tell you. But I want to apologise for earlier, I should never have said those things to hurt you. I regretted it the moment I said it.”
It was the way he said it.Can’t.Rosemary realised he was telling the truth. There was something here, something he’d done, or felt about himself, but it wasn’t to do with her, not really. Whatever it was, it had clearly fucked Ellis up. And she wanted to know, she wanted to help, but it was too soon for that.
“So, you don’t want to be professional with me?” Rosemary whispered, raising her hands to his chest. She felt his heartbeginning to beat faster under her touch. She took a step backwards and Ellis followed, backing her against the cold stone walls.
“Quite the opposite.”
“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind,” she drawled, beginning to twist out of his embrace. Maybe she did enjoy being a bit of a brat, after all, because the way Ellis’s hands clamped around her, pushing her back against the wall of the chapel, had her aching with need.
He growled roughly, pressing a hand to the wall by her head, blocking her exit. “Do you want to know what I did last night, after we got off the phone?” Ellis traced the slope of her neck, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It was excruciatingly soft.
“What did you do?” Rosemary shivered.
“I fucked my hand in the shower, love. I thought about the sounds you made when you were filled up with that toy, and I wanted you to make them for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to. I want this. I want us.”
Rosemary stuttered out a breath. She was on fire.
Ellis was watching her like he wanted to devour her, and she wanted to be devoured. Tentatively, Rosemary unbuttoned her coat, and lifted her skirt up a little. She’d put on these thigh-high tights this morning, back before that dreadful conversation with Ellis. Now she thanked her past self for her outfit choices.
“Are you trying to kill me, love?” Ellis said, bending down and resting his forehead on hers.
“Tell me what to do, Ellis.”
He kissed her, bruising her lips with his. Rosemary wound her arms around him, slotting him against her. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything. She needed theroughness of his touch, she wanted to be marked by him. Covered in him. It was making her delirious.
He lifted her skirt, bunching it with one fist.
“Give me your fingers, love.” Ellis sucked her fingers into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling against her.
“Now touch yourself for me,” he ordered. Rosemary was about to curve her hand around the seam of her underwear when Ellis’s phone began buzzing.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He answered the call, but his free hand skimmed across her upper thighs, teasing.
“Okay, on my way.” He groaned, hanging up.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
“I have to. They’re ready to shoot again.” He captured her lips with his, smiling against her mouth. “Besides, I like the idea of you all needy and wet for me, sweetheart.”
—
Rosemary stayed in the chapelafter Ellis left, taking a moment to catch her breath. She still wasn’t sure why Ellis had reacted the way he had this morning, but he seemed to really regret it. And she felt lighter around him, happier. She didn’t want this to end.
It will end when you go back to the U.S.,her traitorous brain whispered. There was still some more time left to film: after they left Hallowvale they’d be in the studios in North London for another month. And in that time, she had to figure out where in the world she would live, as well as finish and deliver the draft of her new book. The stress was suffocating. She couldn’t think about that tonight.
She, or rather Ellis, had found the ruined chapel where Cecilia said Juliet liked to go. She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to look around. Maybe she could even use it aswriting inspiration. A deconsecrated chapel in the middle of the woods was certainly spooky material. Ellis knew her well. She wandered around, shafts of moonlight coming in through the broken rafters. Ivy clung to the empty altar, and all Rosemary could hear was the rustle of her footsteps on the broken earth.
She could understand why Juliet came here. It was peaceful. A good place to contemplate. Rosemary sat down on the front bench pew and caught a glimpse of something sparkling in the corner of the room, tucked to the right of the altar. Draped by ivy and partly hidden was a small alcove.
She reached her hand in, feeling silk. Rosemary pulled it out, finding a beautifully embroidered silk handkerchief, silver and gold thread in a twisting pattern around the edges. Inside the handkerchief appeared to be a wad of letters, each one placed at different intervals inside a small leather-bound diary. Rosemary peered closer.
They were letters from Cecilia to Juliet. Had Juliet collected and stored them here this whole time? Rosemary didn’t have Juliet’s replies, but there seemed to be a small leather journal, too, with the nameJuliet Hurstin faded, looping font on the inside cover. The first letter wasn’t dated, and it read:
Dearest Juliet,
