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“Isn’t it obvious?” he says.
The kiss is inevitable.
I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know exactly what it’s going to feel like. What I don’t expect is how sweet he’ll be—how withholding, when all I want to do is fall into him and forget I ever had another life. I curl my fingers desperately into the white cotton of his t-shirt as he threads his hands in my hair and presses soft lips to mine, the stubble on his chin and jaw scraping against my skin.
I open to him, desperate for more, knowing at least what the steps aresupposedto be from the romance novels I’ve devoured over the years. But Elijah pulls my head back gently, his grip commanding on my scalp.
“You’re gonna kill me, Sunshine,” he says through gritted teeth.
I flatten my hands against his chest, sliding them over his shoulders, feeling the muscles I was barely able to look at without blushing just one night prior. “What do you mean?”
He hisses out a breath when I roll my hips andfeelhim there, pressing between my legs, deliciously hot and thick even through his jeans. “If the whiplash wasn’t enough, you know I can’t give you what you’re asking for…not tonight.”
“But you wanted this,” I protest. “I’m fine.”
“I still need to see to that head wound, darlin’,” he purrs, his accent a little stronger. His hands slide around the back of my head to hold me in place, and his eyes flit toward the wound. It still hurts, but not too much—not enough to change my mind. “And I’m not sure that you understand what you’re asking for.”
“I’ve read the books,” I cut in.
“But the men in those books aren’t like me,” he says, a growl of dark promise in his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He catches my wrist in one hand and pulls it down his torso, letting me feel the broad plains of his chest, his stomach, lower…
“You can touch if you want,” he says with a wicked smile.
Theaudacityof this man.
Of course, he’s not wrong.
“No strings attached?” I ask, more breathless than I wish I was, less self-assured.
“No strings,” he drawls.
I bite my lip as I pull myself out of his lap, kneeling across from him. He’s hard as a rock, his…
“I’ve never…” I start, not even knowing how to think about what I’m seeing.
“I won’t rush you,” he whispers.
“Really?” I snort. “Because it feels like we’re sprinting.”
He chuckles. “Like I said…no rush.”
He starts to get to his feet, but I pull him back down by the shoulder, yanking him to his knees.
“That doesn’t mean I won’t take you up on the offer,” I breathe. “Just—I’m nervous, okay? Don’t move.”
“I’ll do my damndest not to,” he says with a lazy smile.
“And I’m not making any promises,” I say. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I want to see. Just…look. Not touch.” I pause when he cocks his head at me. “Maybetouch.”
He raises his hands. “Understood. I’m yours to do what you want with.”
Elijah keeps his hands up when I reach tentatively for his waistband, unbuttoning his jeans and then sliding the zipper down. He inhales sharply when my knuckles brush something hard, but he doesn’t so much as twitch, maintaining careful control. That he wolfed out when I fell off the bridge must have meant something—because I rarely see him lose his composure, except when I’m in danger. My eyes flit up to his to see that he’s watching me intently, my hands at the border of his t-shirt and his jeans.
“I’m not gonna stop you,” he rasps.
