Page 31 of The Truth of Us

Elliot walked toward me slowly, and every instinct in my body immediately became aware of him. God, this man was a problem.

“You think too much,” he murmured.

“I am waiting for the fucking I was promised!” I retorted, keeping my walls up.

He laughed softly under his breath, and something about the sound wrapped around my ribs in a way I didn’t like. Or maybe liked too much. Neither option felt safe.

Elliot stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could smell the scotch on his breath mixed with his cologne and something warm and masculine that made me want to make deeply irresponsible decisions.

Like kissing him.

But that rule existed for a reason.

Sex could stay physical.

Kissing was intimate.

Kissing was how women like me started imagining futures that didn’t exist.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Elliot whispered.

“What thing?”

“The overthinking thing.”

I exhaled softly. “Someone in this room has to.”

Elliot’s fingers traced lightly along my hip, and then he reached for my hand. “Let's move to my bedroom.”

Instead of following, I pulled my hand back and stepped away from him, giving him my back again as I bent over, pulling my thong down my long legs. Elliot groaned, and I looked at him, bent in half, completely exposed, offering a cheeky smirk. Then slowly I pulled myself up to standing, stepping out of my thong and moving back to the island before asking, “Condom?”

He chuckled and moved towards a drawer on the other side of the island. Then he pulled out a slip of condoms. I was so shocked that I said in the inside voice thing outside, “Condoms in the kitchen?”

Elliot shrugged like everyone kept an arm's length of condoms in their kitchen. “I keep them in almost every room.”

That was exactly the kind of reminder I needed, so I turned and leaned back on the island and looked at him over my shoulder, asking, “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

He slid the condoms across the island and moved toward me. Elliot stopped right in front of me, still mostly clothed, while I was only in my heels. Tapping his shoe on the inside of my heel to get me to open ‌my legs, Elliot stepped between them. The fabric of his pants brushing against my bare thighs.

He trailed one finger up my stomach, through the valley between my breasts, and then cupped my jaw with his hand, murmuring, “This is where you want it?”

I locked eyes with him and, with as much confidence as I could muster, said, “Yes.”

Elliot studied me for a moment, something moving over his features that I didn’t understand, or maybe didn’t want to. He stepped in even closer, his free hand finding my bare pussy and cupping me there.

We both groaned, ‌and he slipped one finger into my already wet center. Elliot leaned in closer, saying, “I wanted to take my time with you tonight.”

I didn’t know if I could respond in words, so I rolled my hips and bucked, pushing his finger in deeper.

Elliot grinned and moved his finger in me, “So wet for me already. Did our verbal sparring turn you on as much as it did me?”

I moaned in response, and that caused Elliot to look at my lips and move in closer. I turned my head just in time, and again his mouth brushed my jaw instead.

“You are far too committed to this rule,” he murmured against my skin.

“Yes.”

“That’s unfortunate.”