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All I wanted was a nice roommate. I didn’t want trouble, but it’s all I’ve gotten since Elijah showed up. Sure, my life might’ve also gotten the excitement it needed, but that and trouble go together when it comes to him.
Up until Boone interrupted us earlier tonight, I started to naively think Elijah and I could have something more than a quickie in an empty green room.
And I can’t deny my disappointment knowing we won’t see it through.
“So let’s make new ones—you and me.” He breaks the silence as he rushes over to the coffee table and slaps the top of it with both palms. “We’ll make our own imprints. I’ll bend you over right here, right now, if you’ll just give me a chance to earn your trust.”
I clutch my chest as my pulse quickens. “That’s not how it works, Elijah. You can’t just cover a smudge on the wall with paint. It’s still there, lurking underneath.” Great—now I’m the one talking in metaphors.
His shoulders slump forward as he crosses the room to stand in front of me again. “Look, all I’m trying to say is…” His eyes dart between mine, and when he licks his lips, a shiver of longing dances along my spine, much to my brain’s protest.
“Nothing about tonight was ordinary. Not when you are fucking everything.” He steps toward me with caution as I try to catch my breath. “I admit, I underestimated you at first. I had my head stuck up my ass for over a year after Trevor quit the band, and my life spiraled. I should’ve paid attention to you the first time I stayed here. I should’ve appreciated your wit and beauty, and I should’ve been better. I want to be better for you, Pumpkin. Please, let me try.”
The fire in his eyes burns bright, clear, and powerful, and it’s nearly enough to convince me, especially when I realize I no longer flinch at the nickname. When he first started using it, Elijah wanted to torment and tease me.
Sometime during the last few days, it’s become a special term of endearment, and I like it.
He cups my cheeks with both hands, and I’m about to lose myself in his firm grip… when the door to my room opens.
Tarrah hops out with hands on her hips. “Will you just fucking forgive and kiss him already?”
“Jesus!” Elijah jumps back as I jolt in place next to him, sputtering at the same time, “How long have you been here? How did you get in? And what… Why are you…”
“I still have my key from when I crashed here. After the strong as hell drinks I had, I needed to sleep stat, and your place is closer than mine.” She stares pointedly at us both. “And I’ve been here long enough.”
I gulp, tensing all over.
She heard it all.
My best friend knows I freaking slept with her brother, and now she’s going to storm out. Who knows when she’ll talk to me again?
Oh, God…
“Before you spout judgment—”
“Spout judgment? What are you, a fucking priest?” She quirks her brow at Elijah. “And I’m not judging anyone. I’m not surprised this happened, either, not after the way you two ogled each other the first day you moved in. I figured it was only a matter of time before you two got it on. I also knew you, dear brother, would blow it before you even got to the good part, which is why I warned you against getting involved with him.” She directs the last part to me, and I immediately drop my guilt-ridden eyes to the floor.
Side by side, Elijah and I both make incoherent sounds.
“Listen.” Tarrah holds her hands out. “You’re both adults. You can make your own decisions, and I’m not going to stand in the way of you two. But I can’t let you stand in your own ways, either.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as Elijah’s arm brushes mine, heat radiating off him.
It’s so distracting.
“I might still be a little drunk, but even I can tell you two have something special. Something you esh—especall—especially… phew.” Tarrah slumps against the doorframe after her multiple attempts at such a common word.
She’s still drunk, for sure.
“You can’t lose each other over a damn skirt,” she continues.
“That was never the reason,” Elijah argues.
“Not exactly, anyway,” I offer. “It’s more of what the skirt represents. It’s all based on what Boone said.”
She rubs her temples and groans. “Either way, it’s stupid. Boone is stupid, and you can’t let his stupidity come between you two.”
I chance a peek at Elijah. His dark eyelashes framing deep whiskey eyes. The sharp outline of his jaw and the edge in his demeanor. The butterflies in my stomach go nuts, bouncing against the walls of my belly with delight.
