Pushing a few stray hairs from my face, I shake my head, cutting him off. “I need to finish up in here, Elliot, so…”
He licks his lips, his brows drawn together as if he’s warring with himself over what to say. Thankfully, he doesn’t push me. Instead, he nods reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later, then?”
“Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”
“Okay.” Walking over to where I stand, he tips my chin up and then plants a gentle kiss on my lips, the touch completely contradictory to the way he just fucked me within an inch of my life like he said he would. “Good night. Be safe getting out of here.”
“I always am.”
My brain is telling me to speak up, to say something else before he leaves, but for once, I’m finally at a loss for words.
I got what I wanted out of him, and it seems he did the same.
So why do I feel like something is unfinished between us after what just happened?
I don’t get a chance to contemplate it further, though, because within a minute, he’s opening the steel bay door, waiting for me to close it behind him.
And then he’s gone.
Or so I thought.
But when I finally pull out of the garage an hour later, I notice his truck is still in the parking lot.
And he doesn’t leave until I do.
Chapter 22
Elliot
Trying to Get Some Answers
“Fuck me. Now.”
“Elliot?” Colby’s voice pulls me from the thousandth time I’ve replayed last night.
“Uh, yeah?”
“If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late for your appointment with…”
Glancing at the clock, I realize I’ve been staring off into space for the past thirty minutes, warring with regret over how I left things with Dilynne. I didn’t say half the shit that was on my mind because I could tell she isn’t ready to hear it, and now I’m not sure how to even bring it up.
“Crap. Yeah, thank you for reminding me.”
She smiles at me before leaving. “No problem.”
I start to gather my keys, wallet, and sunglasses so I can leave, but my father steps into my office before I get the chance.
“Where are you off to?” he asks, an accusatory pinch in his brow.
“Why do you care?”
“I’m allowed to ask where my son goes when he’s supposed to be working.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I shrug. “I have a meeting.”
“With whom?”
“A potential client.”