Chapter 26
"Oh, and did I tell you I managed to get that God awful cherub ice sculpture she saw and liked?" Elizabeth murmured, groaning when Jason just nodded and continue to brush his lips against the curve of her neck. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"
"Do you have to talk about that right now?" he asked, causing her to roll her eyes as he grinned against her shoulders, his fingers hurrying to undo the buttons of her blouse that she'd just barely finished buttoning.
"I told you I needed your help with some things," she replied, leaning into him as he gently shoved her shirt halfway down her arms. "And you promised to help."
"Yeah, over dinner or after work," he reminded her, lifting his head long enough to look her in the eye. "Not on lunch breaks."
Laughing, she shook her head as he lowered his mouth to hers, continuing what had been their lunch break routine for the last week. It had also been their breakfast and dinner routine, and she didn't really know whose fault it was that they seemed incapable of keeping their clothes on when they were in the same room. She'd abandoned most of her matron of honor duties, and with Johnny and Lulu returning that evening, she was scrambling to get everything done.
Of course, that didn't stop her from going to the warehouse to meet Jason for lunch with a brand new, leather desk chair in tow, forcing them to spend an adequate amount of time breaking it in. It wasn't her fault that she'd been shopping for new furniture for the art gallery when she noticed a desk chair that had Jason's name all over it. Not to mention that the look on his face when she came wheeling it through the door was completely priceless. His eyes lit up immediately and he all but shoved Ritchie out the door, tossing her into it seconds later.
Thankfully, she'd had the man at the store check the nuts and bolts very closely.
"Jason," she half scolded, half moaned, as he tugged her shirt off her arms, leaving her on the edge of his desk in nothing but a lacy, red bra and all too short skirt. The skirt, of course, had been a requirement for the chair. She'd remembered the protocol very well, and Jason seemed pleased.
"I'm wondering if I'm doing something wrong," he murmured, his tongue tracing a blazing path up to her ear, where he slid it around the shell of her ear. "You really shouldn't want to talk about this right now."
Grinning, she couldn't help but give in somewhat, not fighting him as he fumbled with the snap of her bra, her own hands slipping beneath his t-shirt and smoothing over his tight muscles. "I thought the chair would be enough," she said, barely getting the words out before she moaned as he cupped her bare breast in his hand.
"We still have the desk," he replied, tugging on her earlobe with just enough roughness, causing her hips to surge forward. "The walls…the door…filing cabinets…the floor."
"You had me at filing cabinet," she said, pushing him away long enough to pull his shirt over his head. "But never on this floor."
He shook his head and stepped forward to slip his arms back around her. "What?" she laughed, stretching her neck to kiss him. "It's a step up from the bar."
"You're so ridiculous," he murmured against her mouth, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist before shoving her skirt up what little bit of her thighs it covered.
"I am not-"
"Shut up," he cut in, holding a finger over her lips. "Just for ten minutes."
"Oh, that's all you've got?" she asked, undoing the snap of his jeans and lowering the zipper.
"That's about all you have left on your lunch," he replied, groaning as she slipped her hand into his pants. "Looks like you might be-" He stopped mid-sentence when the door to his office flew open, and Ritchie stood in the doorway holding a pile of mail in his hands. His eyes widened as he looked from Elizabeth to Jason, then back to Elizabeth as a wide grin spread across his face.
"What the hell are you doing, Ritche?" Jason cried, as Elizabeth stiffened against him, pressing her face into his chest, and praying that he wasn't seeing more of her than he already had. She slowly pulled her hand from his pants and grimaced as she zipped him back up. It was safe to say the moment had definitely passed. "What the-"
"Mail," he gulped, leaning into the room to set the pile in the chair by the door. "I hadn't heard from you in an hour or so. I figured you and Elizabeth went out to-"
"Get the hell out of here!" he growled, trying to pull Elizabeth's shirt over her bare back, but she was sitting on it.
"Uh, I'm sorry boss," he said, scrambling to grab the doorknob and pull the door closed.
"You should have let me fire him," Jason spat, stepping away from the desk as she slid off to lower her skirt.
"He's harmless."
"You just like the attention."
Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed her bra from the floor and shrugged it over her arms. "Why didn't you lock the door?" she asked, stretching her arms around to snap it. She adjusted herself, rolling her eyes when Jason stopped long enough to zero in her on her breasts. "Hello?"
"What?" he asked, lifting his eyes to her face. "The door…I don't know. You came in with that chair and…"
"So it's my fault?" she asked, tugging her shirt over her arms and hurrying to do the buttons as if waiting for Ritchie to come bursting through the door again.
Shaking his head, he snatched his t-shirt off the desk and slid it over his head. "No, I'll take the blame since last time was my fault."
She couldn't help but blush and look away when she thought about how two days ago Jason had shown up at the gallery when she was working late. They were featuring a new artist and all the paintings had just been dropped off, and Elizabeth had been bearing the brunt of the work. She'd been so stressed out about having to do everything on her that Jason stopped by with a bottle of wine and dinner. Somehow, they'd ended up barely clothed on the middle of the floor, only to have her boss walk in.
Needless to say, Jason was asked not to visit his girlfriend at work anymore.
Girlfriend.
The title usually made Elizabeth squirm. It not only meant that she was now sharing her life, her apartment and her things with someone, and that they were doing the same in return, but that she had to always think about them before she did anything.
None of which she was good at.
She liked having her own life, her own apartment and her own things, and most of the time sharing them only blew up in her face. She was always left alone with way less than she started with, and she had to start the terrible relationship process all over again.
Jason, however, had been very, very different. Her life, apartment and things were as much his as they were hers and it was a seamless transition. Everything about their relationship just felt so natural.
Usually when a man slept over, she stayed up all night wondering if he was going to leave the next morning or just make himself at home on into the afternoon. Jason was up with the sun, waking her with a cup coffee in his hand, and if they managed to keep their clothes on long enough, they would lay in bed and read the paper before hurrying out the door to work. It wasn't weird to come home and find him on her couch or in her kitchen, and she honestly looked forward to it at the end of the day.
And he had been the first man, aside from Jasper, who actually wanted her to spend time at his place. She was used to the men she dated keeping their apartments as a sanctuary – not that she minded because they were either filthy or housing his other girlfriends.
Yeah, she'd had a couple of those in her time.
"You're going to be late," he murmured, grinning as she stooped beneath the desk and looked around.
"I can't find my underwear," she replied, crawling out from under it and looking up at him. He gave her a devious smile, but didn't offer up any information. "Jason, you perv."
He shrugged and sat back down in his new chair. "I liked them."
"I can't go back to work without underwear," she scolded, sliding her folder of wedding plans into her purse.
"Sure you can," he said, sliding his chair up to the desk as she leaned against it. "Just don't bend over."
"I hate you," she replied, shoving her curls from her face as she leaned over to kiss him.
"I hate you too," he murmured, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her into his lap.
She laughed and smacked his hand away as it slid beneath her skirt. "Do I have to wear pants around you?" she asked, tearing her mouth away from his.
"It's probably a good idea," he replied, squeezing her thigh and causing her to smack him again.
"You're sending me back to work all riled up. It's just not fair," she pouted, pushing herself up from his lap.
"You're leaving me all riled up," he said, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes roam up and down.
"I really do hate you," she hissed, laughing as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
"No, you don't," he replied smugly, flashing a cocky smile as he started to rearrange the things on his desk.
"No, I don't," she admitted, causing his eyes to lift to hers in her surprise. They spent so much time teasing one another that it was rare to have a true confession about how one of them felt, but it was true.
"I'll see you tonight," he said, collecting the pen holder and its contents that had fallen wayside when he pinned her down on the desk.
She grinned, unable to hide how felt it good to know that there was a tonight and it wasn't about them getting beers or watching some bad reality TV show she adored. It was about them being together, and the fact that Jason no longer complained about what they watched helped too.
"Tonight," she called over her shoulder, hurrying out of the office before she found herself on the other side of the desk and unable to leave.
Jason craned his neck, his eyes following her legs down the hallway. Once she was out of sight, he smiled to himself, and leaned back in the chair as he pulled his desk drawer open. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of her scrap of red lace stuffed into one of the compartments.
Maybe he was a pervert.
It wasn't his fault she bought the sexiest underwear he'd ever seen, and that the supply of the damn things were endless. Or that she always wore the shortest damn skirts with the highest heels, and it just came together so very nicely. None of this had anything to do with why he was stealing her underwear, but when he looked at Elizabeth he didn't need a reason. It just like something he should do.
God, she really was making him lose his mind. Why else would he have turned into some dirty-minded, panty-stealing pervert?
He wanted to hate her, but couldn't, simply because he'd miss her too damn much. Knowing that she was waiting at the end of the day made time move faster, and he looked forward to coming home to find her on his couch with a beer and watching his TV. He'd even watch that stupid show she loved so much about the stupid girls in stupid California.
She could probably get him to do anything, which was only fair because he was pretty sure she'd do just about anything he wanted, and he liked that the possibilities were endless. Actually, he liked everything about being with Elizabeth. He took the good; her laugh, her constant rambling, how she always made him feel comfortable, and her underwear, just as well as he took the bad; her wet towels, how she always ate off his plate as if it were own, her insecurities, and how she stole his t-shirts because they fit her just right. He'd take every last bit of it without a single complaint.
His phone rang, causing him to sigh, and he was forced to shove aside the high that came from being around her to return to the real world.
"Morgan?" he answered, pressing his phone to his ear.
"Hey, Jason," came Johnny's tired voice.
"I didn't think I'd hear from you until tonight."
"Yeah, I'm a – I'm at the Port Charles Airport now," he replied, clearing his throat.
"You and Lulu catch an early flight?" Jason asked, shoving papers around on his desk and looking for the flight information he had written down. He was pretty sure that they were coming in around dinner. Elizabeth had said something about meeting them at the hotel, but Jason had been preoccupied with other things.
"Not exactly. Uh, I hate to ask, but could you come pick me up?"
"Yeah, sure. What's going on, Johnny?" he asked, getting up from his desk and pulling his keys from his pocket as he headed for the door. "Johnny?"
"Well," he started, letting out a heavy sigh, "let's just say there's not going to be a wedding."