Endlessly (Jamie Dornan) *COMPLETED*

Chapter 7

A/N: Adding the NC-17 rating to this chapter, so read at your discretion ;) I hope this is the moment you've been waiting for! Enjoy every hot minute!

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Jamie's daughter stayed at his house from Wednesday to Saturday the following week. She left with us after dinner with his family. His dad and sisters were lovely; Jamie got his charm and personality from them no doubt. His daughter was precious, and I enjoyed every minute spent with her. We played dress up with her dolls, had pretend afternoon tea on her bedroom floor, watched cartoons, and she even asked if I'd read her bedtime stories instead of daddy. We were buddies, but in the back of my mind I told myself not to get attached. After all, she wasn't mine. I was lucky he even let me meet her so early in our relationship. He could dump me next week and I'd never see her again. All she knew was I was her daddy's friend from New York.

"Are you nervous for tomorrow?" I asked.

I'd decided not to go to the awards show with him, only because I was still overwhelmed from our paparazzi encounter at the airport. Sure enough, Victoria called me the next day telling me I was on the front page of Buzzfeed's website wanting to know who the mystery girl was. She calmed me down and assured me that no one would try to sell embarrassing stories to the media. I think I trusted my loved ones not to.

"A little," he said. "It's always unnerving to wait for the results."

He was standing in his kitchen making salad, steak and baked potatoes for our dinner. I sipped the glass of red wine he'd poured me.

"You're a winner in my book." He turned and I winked.

"Sure you don't want to go?"

I felt bad; he'd flew me all the way to London, let me meet his family, stay in his house, and I wouldn't be his date on an important night for him. I almost changed my mind.

"I'm going to sit this one out. I hope you understand."

"Of course." He smiled before turning back to his task.

I watched him from where I sat on a stool at his island. He wouldn't let me help, but I didn't argue because I was enjoying the view. He moved quickly and expertly through the drawers, cabinets, and refrigerator. I told myself in that moment that I needed to let him cook more often so I could admire his skills.

A few minutes later everything was finished. I ended up setting the table anyway and helping him carry the food over. He dimmed the dining room lights before igniting a few candles in the center of the table. They smelled like sandalwood.

"So romantic," I said.

"All for you. Enjoy."

The butterflies were fluttering madly. He waited for me to cut my steak, and once I did, a beautiful amount of juices oozed out. I took a bite as he watched me intensely.

"Wow," I chewed. "This is amazing."

"Thank you." He cut into his and fixed up his potato with butter and sour cream; I followed suit.

We enjoyed our food in silence for a long while. The wine he'd chosen paired perfectly with everything and I knew it wasn't an accident. He was an expert at wining and dining. Despite living in a big city, his neighborhood was quiet. I was enjoying the smells, tastes, and soft sounds around me, not to mention the stunning sight of him across the table.

"I just wanted to say," he began, "that I really appreciate your tolerance."

"Of what?"

"Me."