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I lean up on my tiptoes, dropping Eli’s hand so that I can wrap my arms around his neck. Eli bends down, his hands landing on my hips as he steps closer to me. His chest brushes against mine and I shiver at the contact.
His lips brush against mine, delicate at first, like a whisper, and I let out a soft sigh. Eli makes a hoarse sound, his fingers tightening on my hips until I’m sure that he’s leaving bruises.
The kiss changes then.
What started out as soft and exploratory quickly turns heated. Eli’s mouth goes to battle with my own, his lips angling against mine as we both breathe each other in. I can feel every hard plane of his body against mine, but it’s not enough.
I push closer, my hands tugging at his clothes. Our lips clinging and molding against each other the same way that the rest of our bodies are. Eli’s tongue slicks across the seam of my lips and I moan under his lips, opening for him instantly.
“Hartley. Sweets,” Eli breathes against my lips and his rough voice scrapes across my skin.
I jerk in his hold, the spell that his kiss put on me breaking at the sound of my voice falling from his lips.
Eli looks just as dazed as I feel and we both just stare at each other for a few heartbeats before I take a step back.
“Alright. I think we’ve got that covered,” Eli says, clearing his throat and heading for the door. “I’ll... uh, I’ll see you later,” he says gruffly before he disappears into the night.
I stand there staring after him for far too long.
This isn’t how this was supposed to go. It was just supposed to be a favor for a favor. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. I certainly wasn’t supposed to like him.
I lock up and head upstairs intending to work some more, but I can’t seem to clear my head. All I can think is that I might be in trouble here.
TWELVE
Elijah
It’s Sunday and my parents’ plane was supposed to land fifteen minutes ago. I thought about texting Hartley and giving her a heads up that they’re here in town, but I changed my mind and deleted the text message at the last minute.
I’ve been avoiding her since that kiss Friday night. I spent all day yesterday and this morning at the Trading Post, making sure that the store was set for Nick, my one employee, to run next week.
All weekend, I’ve been plagued by memories of Hartley. Thoughts of Hartley holding my hand, her fingers wrapped tight around mine, or of her lips against mine. I’ve never held hands with someone before and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was nice. Hartley’s hand was so small in mine and it reminded me of how much bigger I am than her. Her hand was so soft and smooth against my own rough fingertips. Another difference between the two of us.
It’s more than just her hands that I keep replaying in my head. I can’t seem to stop thinking about that kiss either. No matter how hard I try.
I’ve lain awake the last two nights replaying that moment over and over again in my head. I’ve kissed a few girls before but it’s never felt like that. Like I was being wrapped in a blanket. It was like I was coming home.
I pull up in front of the airport, finding an empty spot close to the arrivals door. It doesn’t take long to spot my parents. My dad is six and a half feet tall and he towers over everyone else who is outside waiting for their ride. I wave when my mom turns and sees me, and she excitedly waves back before she nudges my dad and takes off toward my truck.
“Eli!” my mom yells as she continues to barrel toward me.
I hop out of the truck to help them with their bags as she reaches me. My mom might be thin, but she makes up for it by being energetic. She runs toward me, throwing her arms around my neck and nearly tackling me in the process.
“It’s so nice to see you, dear. You look good. Have you been eating enough? You look a little thin,” she says as she holds me at arm’s length to get a better look at me.
“Hey, son,” my dad says when he joins us, dragging both suitcases behind him. “Let’s do this at the house. It’s freezing out here,” my dad suggests, prying my mom off me and helping her up into the cab of the truck.
I help him with the bags, hefting them into the truck bed before I climb back behind the wheel and pull out into the light airport traffic. It’s about an hour back to Honey Peak and I settle in for the drive. I have a feeling that I’m about to spend the whole trip fielding questions from my mom about Hartley.
“When do we get to meet your girlfriend?” my mom asks a minute later, leaning forward in her seat in the back.
“Hi, Mom. It’s nice to see you too. How was your flight?” I say sarcastically.
That earns me a warning look from my mom in the rearview mirror and I duck my head, mumbling an apology.
“It was fine. Our layover in Chicago was a nightmare though. It’s snowing there and I thought that we were going to get snowed in or that there would be too much ice on the wings or something, but we didn’t.”
“Yeah, I heard that we’re going to get snow here over the next day or two.”
