Chapter 23
Jason was not a sentimental person. Nor was he the kind of man who really said what he felt, mostly because he always thought words to be trivial. To him, you showed someone you cared about them by taking care of them, not by always telling them. Maybe this was why he found it impossible to keep his hands off of Elizabeth every time they were alone, which was also why she was making sure they were never alone.
Until this very second as he stepped into his office at the warehouse to find her leaning across the desk with Ritchie, who was not so subtly peeking down the top of her blouse as she rambled on about something having to do with their books.
"Excuse me," Jason grunted, gripping his door in one hand and curtly waving Ritchie out with the other.
"Sorry, boss," he said, straightening up and flashing Elizabeth a wink. "She had a question about something in the books-"
"There's a shipment coming in on Pier 32 in fifteen minutes," he cut in firmly, trying not to sneak a peek at Elizabeth as she leaned back in his chair, crossing her legs and giving him a look that let him know she knew he was jealous.
He really didn't know what to do with her sometimes.
"Go supervise," Jason continued, jerking his head towards the hallway.
Once Ritchie was out of the room, he kicked the door closed with his foot and bit back a groan as Elizabeth ran a pencil back and forth between her lips. The sad thing was she wasn't even trying to turn him on; it was a habit she'd had for years, but now everything about her turned him on. She knew this, knew that he couldn't help but want to touch her, hence why for the last week, they'd only been alone three times since the night of the gallery open.
One where Jason had all but pinned her to his desk seconds after she walked into his office wearing some skimpy dress on her way to a girl's night out with some girls from work. One where Elizabeth had called Jason to come over and help her move her new couch around her living room, resulting in the two of them rolling around on it like teenagers. The third where they agreed that they had to figure something out before they passed the point of no return and couldn't bear to look at one another; of course this was said between breaths as they made out on his pool table, but they were trying nonetheless.
Jason didn't want to doubt Elizabeth's feelings, but he couldn't help it, simply because he'd seen her go through men and how relationships affected her. She went in with too much of her heart on her sleeve, and while he'd do everything he could to make sure she didn't get hurt, she always managed to do enough of that on her own. When one crashed and burned, she'd just push herself on to another – not that he had much room to talk based on his own relationship experiences.
After all, his relationships for pretty much his entire existence revolved around buying a girl a drink, taking her home, and putting her in a taxi, usually within the same night.
And Elizabeth was not that kind of woman.
He was still irked that she'd compared herself to those women, not that anything was wrong with the girls he brought home, but they just weren't Elizabeth. She was in a league all of her own, and he was still getting used to the fact that she wanted him, let alone that he wanted her. It really was the most fucked up situation possible, and he had no idea how to get out of it.
"Stop," she murmured, closing the ledgers and stacking them up neatly in the center of his desk. She left one open, turning it towards him. "I mean it. Stop, Jason."
"Stop what?" he asked wryly, letting his eyes roam over the dip of her blouse, and she sat back, arching her eyebrows in annoyance.
"Looking at me like that," she replied, holding her hand over her chest.
"Like what?" he asked curiously, sitting down on the edge of the desk and reaching for his stack of mail that had been dropped in the metal bin.
"Like you've seen me…" She blushed, dropping her head so that her hair fell in her face.
"Naked?" he grunted, tossing his mail down, and reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear as he leaned over. "Because I have, in case you forgot."
"Not completely," she reminded him, her lips pulled in a taut frown.
"True," he agreed, grinning as she scooted the chair back from the desk. "I'd try to imagine, but…" He winked at her, causing her to scowl. "I don't think I could do you justice."
"Stop," she hissed, getting up from the desk and grabbing the ledger. "Your numbers are wrong."
"You like it," he murmured, taking it from her hands and ignoring how she muttered several obscenities under her breath.
Asshole.
It actually sounded sexy now.
"I'll take care of it," he said, snapping the book closed and tossing it down on the stack.
"The numbers are way off, Jason," she replied, chewing her lip nervously. "Not just by a little bit."
"I'll take care of it," he repeated, shrugging as he tried to hide how annoyed he was by the off numbers, but he'd been expecting it.
He folded his arms over his chest, watching her intently as she shuffled her feet against the floor, clearly unnerved by having nothing to say.
"So, uh, what have you been up to?" he asked, wanting to remind her they hadn't seen each other in days.
Johnny and Lulu had left for Europe a couple days ago and without his friend around, he'd been bored, unable to remember what he did before he and Elizabeth had become real friends.
She shrugged, still working her lip back and forth between her teeth. "I took a couple extra shifts at the gallery. I started some new paintings. I cleaned-"
"Someone piss you off again?" he teased, bracing his hands against the desk on either side of him.
"No," she spat, fighting a smile. "I just didn't have anything else to do."
"Yeah," he nodded, not sure what else to say.
The room grew quiet again, and she turned to gather her things, but Jason grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards him.
"If you kiss me again, Jason, I swear to God…" Her voice trailed off before she finished her threat, and he was mildly amused, all too interested in what a kiss would entail.
It would be worth it anyway.
"I'm not going to kiss you," he said, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
She frowned at his tone of disgust. "Well, you don't have to say it like that."
"Like what?" he asked defensively, letting go of her hand when he realized he was still holding onto it.
"Like you don't want to," she replied, sliding her hand over her hip.
"What makes you think I do?" he teased, rolling his eyes as he slid off the end of the desk.
"Well," she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him against her, "if the past week has been any indication…" She arched her eyebrows, flashing him a toothy grin that he refused to fall for.
"No more," he murmured, pulling away from her. Her face fell and she almost looked hurt, which wasn't the point, but he wasn't going to let her know that. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she asked mockingly.
"That whiny face of yours – it's not going to work," he murmured, pushing past her to sit down at his desk.
"I do not have a whiny face," she hissed, moving to sit on the desk in front of him before he could slide the chair beneath it.
He surveyed her position, legs hanging over the edge, spread at just the right angle, and it would have been easy to pull her into his lap and have at her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Pervert," Elizabeth groaned, kicking him in the shin.
"Dammit," he growled, leaning forward to rub his leg where the heel of her stiletto had dug against it. "You and those fucking shoes."
"You like them," she said simply, pushing herself off the desk and hurrying around to the other side. "You want them…"
She blushed, causing Jason to laugh. "A dirty thought doesn't work if you can't finish it."
"You can't have me or my shoes," she said, and he waited for her to stick her tongue out, taunting him.
He had no doubt that either of them were above such a thing at this point.
"What are we doing?" he asked, letting out a heavy sigh. The room went silent at his question, desperately wanting an answer as much as he did. Elizabeth stiffened, any amusement fading instantly from her face. "Seriously, what are we doing?"
"I don't know," she replied honestly, sinking her teeth into her lower lip, and he would have replied, but he was too busy thinking about how her lips felt against his…
"I really screwed things up," she said softly, raking a hand nervously through her hair.
"No, you didn't," he replied, grabbing the pencil she'd been rolling between her lips and tapping it against the desk. "We just have to figure out where to go from here, and if there's anywhere to go."
"Stop doing that," she muttered exhaustedly, her shoulders slumping. He just looked at her, clearly not understanding what the hell she was talking about. "One day I see you, and you're tossing me on this desk or pushing me down on my couch-"
"You pushed me down," he interjected, holding up the pencil and waving it back and forth.
"Oh, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "The point is that you can't shove me down on a couch one second and ask me what to do the next. I've made it clear what I want and who I want and-"
"Where you want it," he cut in, unable to help himself.
"You are such an asshole."
He grinned at her words, eliciting a scowl in return, which caused his grin to widen.
"I hate you."
This time he laughed, causing her to mutter obscenities under her breath, forcing him to laugh louder.
"Jas-"
"Go on a date with me," he interrupted, surprising her as well as himself, and he almost wished he hadn't said it.
"What?" she asked, looking at him in disbelief.
"I'm asking you on a date," he shrugged, tugging nervously at the collar of his t-shirt as he started to sweat.
There was a strong possibly that she could say no, tell him to go to hell, and all this had been about the tease.
"Why?"
"Isn't that what people in our situation do?" he asked, knowing immediately that was the worst possible thing he could have said.
"So you're asking me because that's what people do – not what you want-"
"No, no, no," he interrupted, getting up from the desk and waving his hand at her. "I'm asking you because I want to take you out on a date."
"Jason Morgan doesn't go on dates," she said, laughing to herself.
"Elizabeth Webber does," he countered, slowly walking around the desk.
They were both dancing around an inevitable truth; this would work or it wouldn't, and they had to find out or else it would be a never ending cycle. Somehow they'd started this and they had to finish it.
"A date," she murmured quietly, her plump lips settling into a smile.
He nodded, walking over to her, mostly to keep her from running out of his office before he got a straight answer. "Yeah, dinner, a movie, drinks-"
"How is that so different from anything we've ever done?" she asked seriously.
He shrugged, reaching out to grab her hand. "You can pay," he offered.
She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Do I get to plan it too?"
"If you want," he replied, not sure if it was a trick question or not.
"Only you," she said in amazement.
"What does that mean?" He was still nervous and waiting to be shot down, which was a new feeling altogether.
Jason Morgan never got shot down.
She shrugged, squeezing his hand. "Only you would ask a girl out on a date, and then dump the stress of paying and planning off on her."
"I did not dump it-"
"And that's a lot considering you assumed the girl wants to go out with you in the first place."
"I retract my offer," he said, glaring playfully.
"You're right," she replied, letting go of his hand and turning towards the door. "Let's just call the whole thing off."
Jason frowned as he watched her open the door and disappear down the hall, and he almost didn't believe she was walking away until he followed her into the hall and saw her disappear around the corner, her hips swaying from side to side and her heels clicking on the linoleum.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, leaning against the doorway and rubbing his hands against his face. "You stupid asshole."
He'd just fucked up real good.
"Jason."
"What the hell," he growled, dropping his hands from his face to see Elizabeth standing in front of him, an amused look on her face.
She tipped her head to the side, looking him up and down in a way that made him want to pull her into his office and put the desk chair to use. "I'm free tomorrow night."
Gritting his teeth, he nodded, biting back all possible retorts. "I'll pick you up at-"
"No," she said, shaking her head as she reached out to run a slender finger down his chest. "I'll pick you up at seven."