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“Women are known to do crazy things when threatened, Elijah. Like lifting cars off their injured children.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that story before.” He releases his hands from my arms. “Don’t buy it.”
“I can’t live with this burden, without knowing if he’s okay, if he’s alive. I have to call the cops—”
He grabs my arm and pulls me to the side of the pool, pinning me on either side with his hands. I glare up at him, well aware that he towers over me and that he thinks he can control me.
“We’re not calling the cops, Taylor. He didn’t die. He’s fine.”
“How could you know that?” I say, standing on my tiptoes to be closer to his face.
“Why do you care?” He pins me closer to the side with his chest.
“Because I’m a fucking human being!”
“That piece of shit was going to hurt you, and you want to turn yourself in? Turn me in?” He leans down close to my ear, his hot breath against my neck. “What’s done is done, Taylor. We’re not involving the police. I’ll handle it,” he whispers.
My heartbeat quickens as I press my back firmly against the wall. “And what will you do if I say that’s not good enough?”
He digs his hand behind my lower back and pulls me against him until our skin touches. I shudder beneath his size and heat. He lifts me up, wrapping his arm around me until his mouth is comfortably over my ear. My legs unabashedly wrap around his waist and his hands cup the bottom of my ass.
“I’d have to punish you,” he murmurs. His hands squeeze me tighter, and he groans. I gasp as he kisses my neck, his lips grazing over the sensitive skin below my ear. Warmth flushes through my body, and I find myself throwing my arms around his tattooed neck.
“Say you’ll let me handle it,” he whispers.
“I—I don’t know—”
He grinds me against him, using his hands to move my pelvis up and down against his hard dick beneath his shorts. He groans as he moves me and I let out another involuntary gasp, feeling my pussy clench. God, this is so fucking wrong.
“Say it,” he growls.
“You—I’ll—I’ll let you handle it.”
“Good girl,” he says, kissing my neck until I’m liquid in his arms. “I have to go.” He abruptly stops and unwraps my legs from his waist. I can’t protest; I can barely breathe.
He swims to the stairs and climbs out, grabbing my towel on the lounger by the back door. He doesn’t turn around to look at me as he goes into the house and back up to his room, leaving me a sopping mess.
14
ELIJAH HAYES
Irun into Mom in the hallway outside my bedroom. She stands with her arms crossed, her slipper-clad foot tapping at the floor.
“You told me that was over,” she hisses, trying to keep her voice down.
“What’re you talking about?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Don’t fucking play games with me, Elijah, I saw you with her. She’s your stepsister for Christ’s sake.”
I fucking hate that word. Lover. Ex-girlfriend. Stepsister. Enemy.
“That was nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
Mom looks warily down the hall, her green eyes full of that classic parental disappointment. “Please don’t mess this up for me, baby. I love Steven.”
“I won’t mess up your perfect marriage. And it’s not like you didn’t know what this was before marrying him.”
“You told me you two were done. She moved away. Sorry for assuming you moved on after all these years.”
