A whimper fell from my parted lips.
His eyes met mine.
“Elliot.”
His hand slid from my shoulder, across my chest, up my throat to my chin. Gripping it firmly, he faced me toward the mirror.
“Look, Catherine. See yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Elliot
Catherine had stunned me from the first time I saw her, but for a long time, I hadn’t allowed myself to look at her. It was the only way I’d been able to work with her every day. Blocking out the vast majority of her exterior was how I’d managed to keep her for so long.
But the woman before me had rendered me incapable of looking at anything but her.
It wasn’t the dress, though the way it draped over her generous heart-shaped ass and round hips was nothing short of fine art. It wasn’t the tattoos, which were more extensive and colorful than I’d expected from the few glimpses I’d caught over the last year, stretching over her shoulders and across her upper back. It wasn’t even the way her chest rose dramatically as she inhaled a deep breath, forcing her breasts to press against the thin fabric.
All of that was hot, sexy, gorgeous, but she’d always been those things, and I’d been able to blind myself to it. Until now.
She had decimated my resolve with a thousand cuts. The curly wisps of hair around her face were the most persistent slices against my walls. Then there was the press of her lips, the light that always danced behind her eyes when she internally cussed me out. How she handled difficult men, including me. Her ability to be soft and strong all at once. The postscripts. Goddamn postscripts.
Her tenderness and devotion to Josephine had done me in completely.
Catherine’s bright eyes skimmed over her reflection as her hands trailed along her curves. She wasn’t frowning, and there was nothing critical in how she studied herself.
Dipping my head, I brought my mouth beside her ear. “What do you see?”
She turned slightly, and my lips grazed her skin. She gasped. “Elliot, I—”
“Look at the mirror and tell me what you see.”
I let my hand slip from her jaw and return to her shoulder. I was treading a fine line here. If I wasn’t careful, I would go further than either of us were prepared for.
She sucked in a breath, her breasts testing the delicate fabric once more. “I don’t hate this.”
I raised a brow. “If that’s all you’ve got, I’m not sure you’re really looking. Try again.”
“You’re not allowed to be my boss outside of the office, Elliot.”
I huffed, scattering a few of her fine, flyaway hairs. “Says who?”
Her bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth as she scrutinized her reflection. “I don’t look like a mom.”
“You do.”
Tension immediately drew up her shoulders. “What? Why—？”
“You are a mom, but that’s not all you are.” I tapped her collarbone, drawing her attention to me rather than her thoughts, which were so obviously spiraling I could almost hear them. “Look at yourself, Catherine. Really look.”
She did, but it took some time for the tightness in her muscles to ease. Little by little, her shoulders relaxed as she sucked in long, deep breaths.
“I recognize a part of me I thought was gone for good,” she murmured. “How can I be this and Joey’s mom?”
“You just are. This is you as much as being a mother is. You’re getting this dress.”
“The work clothes, maybe, but I don’t need a dress like this. I have nowhere to wear it.”
“You’ll wear it to the grand opening of the Rockford building. And the work clothes aren’t a maybe; they’re a yes.” I slid my palms down to her wrists and squeezed. “Go change. I’ll be waiting out here with Josephine.”
When I let her go, she spun around, our chests grazing. Her brown eyes were rich soil, full of life and questions. “Are we friends now?”
I laughed at her bluntness, not her question. I didn’t know what we were, but I couldn’t say we were friends. “We’re more than that.”
She nodded, blinking rapidly in confusion. “How did that happen?”
My mouth hitched, and the fist in my chest sprung open, scratching at my inner walls. I didn’t have an answer to that either, even though I’d been asking myself that very same thing.
“Go get dressed.”
Her nose crinkled, but she listened. Walking away with a sassy sway to her full hips that would have brought a lesser man to his knees, she let me hear her mutter, “So bossy.”