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"Did he do something to you?" I asked. It was the first I was hearing that Eli had an issue with Benji. I thought Benji was friends with everyone. He was perfect. Eli shouldn't have anything to complain about.
But maybe that was just around me. Maybe Benji was secretly a fucking asshole, but was trying to impress me—I stopped myself before I could spiral. That was ridiculous. Benji was a genuinely nice guy.
"You're seriously asking me that?" Eli growled, taking another step forward. All humor was gone, and all that was left was a heat I felt to my core. I stumbled back, but he kept prowling closer, his eyes focused solely on me. Finally, I stopped when my back hit the counter. "You don't know why I'd hate him?"
"No," I breathed, and his eyes narrowed. He was too close. I could feel the warmth of his body radiating off him. "Eli."
His eyes searched mine, his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn't shaved this morning, so his stubble was longer than usual. I loved the roughness of it. And I'd noticed a few gray hairs coming in at his temples, and they were doing something stupid to my body. It felt like those few gray hairs were making my pussy go into overdrive.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it. I couldn't start noticing more things about him to drool over.
Suddenly, he stepped back. Instead of feeling like I could breathe, it felt like I was suffocating. Without thinking, I reached for him, but he pulled away from my touch before my fingers could brush against his arm. The rejection hurt, but I understood.
"I'm fucking this up," he breathed, running his hand through his hair.
"Fucking what up?" I mumbled. I balled my hands into fists to keep from touching him.
"This." He waved his hand between us.
I paused.
He gripped his dark hair and tugged lightly on it. "What?" He let out a harsh breath.
"We need to talk," he said, and I risked a step forward.
"About?" I asked, feeling antsy.
"Everything," he laughed humorlessly. "Benji—"
"What about him?" I interrupted.
"We need to talk about Meredith, and—"
"What about her?" I took another step forward. He was saying so much, and nothing at all. I didn't know what to say or think.
"And we need to talk about us," he concluded. I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say.
"Us?" I finally breathed.
"Reagan." He said it like a plea, like he was desperate for me to drop it. But I couldn't. I needed to know what he had to say, what he was thinking and feeling. I just wanted to know everything.
"What about us? Are you—you don't want me around anymore?" I asked, my throat tightening. Had I truly fucked everything up so much that he wanted to get rid of me?
"God, angel, no," he said as he moved toward me. He slowly reached out, cupping my face. His eyes searched mine and my breath caught. "I never want you to leave. That's the problem." My brows scrunched together.
"How is that a problem?" I murmured, leaning into his touch. He smiled sadly as he stroked his thumb along my cheek.
After a moment, he moved to pull away, but I reached up and caught his hand, keeping it on my face. "Don't," I whispered, closing my eyes.
I didn't feel him move.
His lips crashed against mine, his hand sliding from my cheek, down my jaw to my neck, and wrapping around the back of it. The kiss was hard, and filled with so much passion I couldn't breathe. His tongue trailed along the seam of my lips and I eagerly opened for him.
The room spun as his fingers dove into my hair, holding me tightly to him. I slid my hands up his chest and wrapped them around the back of his neck. He groaned into my mouth and the sound was my undoing.
I panted against him, feeling every nerve in my body light on fire as I pressed my hips against his.
But before we could move any further, he pulled away, breathing heavily. I pried my eyes open, my vision blurry with desire as he stared at me.
