Page 52 of Trial and Error

Neither of us say anything as we stand there, our gazes locked on each other and I let my eyes drop and watch as he tucks his hands into his pockets and gently rocks on the balls of his feet.

“Can I sit?” he asks, nodding to the couch with an amused look.

I reach forward and grab his forearm and tug. “How rude of me.” The laugh that bubbles out of my mouth sounds unhinged. “Please, take a se—” I cut myself off with a squeal as my thighs hit the arm of the couch with a force that has me falling backward, and of course, pulling Elias down with me.

I clench my eyes as I fall onto the sectional and let out a small grunt when Elias lands on top of me with a gentle thud. His minty breath fans over my face as he chuckles softly and I don’t have to open my eyes to know that we’re within close proximity to each other.

My eyes open slowly and immediately lower to where his lips hover over mine. They’re parted ever so slightly, and as my eyes trail up his angular face and to his eyes, I see they’re already looking down at my mouth, darkening when I roll my bottom lip into my mouth. I feel him tense.

Hesitantly, I move my hand from his forearm and move it up and over his shoulder, my fingers curling into the muscle there. The movement has his eyes flicking up to mine, and he inhales sharply when I hook my arm loosely around his neck.

I see it then, the conflict in his eyes, in the hard set of his jaw as he clenches it so tightly I wonder if it’ll break. We shouldn’t be doing this is what his gaze tells me, but he doesn’t move—neither of us do.

Out the corner of my eye, I see that hand that rests beside my head clench and unclench as his eyes dart over my face.

“Hi,” I whisper breathlessly.

The left side of his mouth tilts up in amusement. “Hi,” he replies, his voice husky.

The hand that was in his pocket now rests on my hip, and I can’t help the way they buckle under his touch, meeting him in a soft graze. If we were farther apart, I don’t think I’d have heard the soft growl that rumbles in his chest, but I do. I hear that little slither of control he has starting to fray and I find myself wishing he would push back.

“How do you take your coffee?” I ask.

His gaze lingers on my face for a beat longer before he shakes his head softly and chuckles. He pushes himself off me and stands above me with an outstretched hand.

“Black with one sugar.”

I slip my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet.

“Make yourself at home,” I tell him as I slide out from between him and the couch.

As I enter the kitchen, I lean against the counter and let out a shaky breath. I’ve had attractive men in my apartment before, but not a single one of them has me feeling the way Elias does. Knowing he’s in my apartment has my heart pounding in my chest, and it’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to go out there and pounce on him like some feral street cat.

We’ve only kissed a handful of times and the majority of them were short and for show, but every brush of his lips against mine, sends me into a frenzy for days. Since then I’ve been hoping we’ll have to do it again, even if it is just to keep up this facade. The more I think about kissing him, the more I realize I need to feel his lips on mine.

I need to know what it really feels like to have them on me and not just because we have an audience. I want to know how he would caress my body. Would he touch me? Would he be able to keep his hands off me?

My body grows hot as I let my imagination run wild at how it would feel to have him pressing on top of me, and I should be embarrassed at how much this daydream is turning me on—but I’m not. It’s making me realize that I need Elias Cohen on a visceral level, and without an ounce of hesitation, I stride into the living room.

Elias is sitting on my couch with his legs spread as he looks around the room, body relaxed, and at ease as he leans against the cushions. His eyes move up my body, toward my face as I stop in front of him, watching as I look down at him with a small frown.

I take a deep breath and, before I give myself the opportunity to chicken out, I say, “If I were to kiss you right now, what would you do?”

I can tell my question takes him by surprise from the way his eyebrows shoot up. He looks down at my chest, watching as it rapidly rises and falls. I keep my clammy hands by my side and I can’t help but curl them into fists as I wait for his response.

Slowly, he leans forward and cups the back of my knees and pulls me into the space between his legs. “Well, I wouldn’t turn you away, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. “I guess the real question is, are you hypothesizing or are you actually going to kiss me?”

I place my hands on his shoulders and gently push him back into the couch. “I’m going to kiss you,” I confirm, mainly for myself.

Elias watches patiently as I kneel on either side of his thick thighs. His hands are itching to touch me, but he waits as I hover over his lap. I’m hesitant, and he must sense it, because as I start to push myself up, he places his hands on my hips and gives them an encouraging squeeze. My breathing is erratic as I lower myself onto him, my eyes looking down at my body on his.

“Is this okay?” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes.

He responds with a quick nod and another squeeze of my hips, and I shudder at how good it feels to be touched by him and we’ve barely begun. His thighs are firm underneath me and the feeling of his hands travelling up the expanse of my back relaxes me. Elias’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, his fingers toying with the entrance of the pockets on my pants.

“Can I touch you?” I ask, looking down at my hands on his shoulders.

He nods again. “Anywhere you want.”