No. I had so many questions, but the only one that mattered right now was why didn’t he want me to know who he was? He’d told me that I didn’t know him and he’d been most emphatic. He hadn’t wanted me to tell him that he was familiar. Hadn’t wanted to tell me what he looked like.
Yeah, he really did not want me to know.
‘You’re shaking.’ His voice moved through me again but this time I heard it differently, remembering the rich, deep tones of it from years ago. They were still there, buried like gold beneath a layer of gravel and sand. But...what had happened to his voice?
‘Nervous, I guess,’ I said hoarsely.
I couldn’t tell him I knew. That was obvious. Because there was no telling what he would do. He might leave and, if I hadn’t wanted him to before, I was now desperate for him not to.
Eli Hart had always been my greatest fantasy and I’d never thought I’d have him. I’d literally saved myself for him. Yet for him I’d always been Traj’s little sister...
Until now. Now it was different.
I tried not to shake, but it was next to impossible. And not because I was scared, but because the reality of the moment was tumbling in on me and I could hardly believe it was actually happening.
My fantasy had come to life and was real. So very real.
I stared through my blindfold, fighting to control my breathing, imagining him as I’d last seen him. Six-three with wide shoulders and a broad chest. Shaggy, surfer-blond hair. Mesmerising hazel eyes, caught on the cusp between golden-brown and emerald-green. A smile that could light up a room and render every person in it his slave...
‘Tell me what you want me to do,’ I said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Elias
MY HEART WAS beating like a fucking drum, my cock pressing hard against the zipper of my pants.
Vesta Howard-Smith, the girl I’d always thought of as a kid sister, was standing naked right in front of me and it was very, very obvious that she was not a girl any longer.
And she was asking me what I wanted her to do...
Jesus Christ.
‘Just stand there,’ I managed to force out. ‘Let me look at you.’
Because I wanted to. She was so fucking beautiful. I’d had no idea. And, because I’d been so damn mesmerised, I’d almost given myself away about the necklace.
Stupid. Luckily she hadn’t seemed to make any connections due to my slip-up, which was just as well. What the hell would she think if she knew who was standing there, looking at her naked?
She’d be angry. Very, very angry. And not only because I’d cut her out of my life so very definitely over the years, but also because now keeping who I was a secret from her was a shitty thing to do. There would be questions and recriminations. Complications. I would have to explain myself, tell her why I hadn’t answered any of her emails, texts and calls. I would have to show her my scars, tell her who I was now.
I would have to tell her that the man she’d once looked up to was dead.
I suppose I really should have tried harder to get her to leave, or have been firmer with myself and walked out.
And, now I’d seen her naked, walking out was going to be...impossible.
She was my past standing before me. I’d once been fast, powerful and handsome as sin, with a bright and glittering future stretching before me. With a father who’d been proud of me and what I’d achieved and a mother who’d worshipped the ground I walked on.
Back when Vee thought I was a god.
Oh, I wanted those feelings again, just for a night. And she could give it to me.
Of course, she might turn it into a complication, making me long for the past instead of putting it behind me the way I’d always done before. But that was too bad.
How can you do this to her? How can you pretend to be someone else? You know you meant something to her. She wouldn’t have those stars and petals all over her body, or that necklace around her neck, if you didn’t.
My chest felt tight, doubt gripping me, but I ignored it.
If I walked out now without explanation, it would only hurt her. Telling her who I was would do the same thing. And, yes, staying here and taking her anyway was selfish, but I didn’t care. I’d earned the right to be a little bit fucking selfish.
So I pushed the doubt away and concentrated on her instead. Staring at her short, spiky black hair and the blue tips of it. At her pale, creamy skin and the fall of stars and petals scattered down her chest, a couple sprinkled over those perfect little round breasts and hard, pink nipples, falling down over her stomach to her left hip.
‘You’re a star, Vee,’ I’d told her, pulling the trite, crap saying out of somewhere, because I’d been full of trite sayings back then, thinking I knew everything there was to know about everything. ‘And you’re a gorgeous rose. Don’t let them crush your chance to shine and to bloom.’
And she’d taken that bullshit to heart, hadn’t she? She’d tattooed that onto her skin.
She cocked her head slightly, as if listening. ‘Are you done? Or did I kill the mood?’
Her voice sounded shaky, though, and she was still trembling. Was she afraid?
‘No.’ I wasn’t sounding so steady myself, arousal pumping hard in my veins. ‘Are you still nervous?’
‘A bit.’
‘Tell me if it’s too much, okay?’
She didn’t speak, only nodded.
Good. I needed to pull myself the fuck together and stop thinking about those stars and petals. Get my head back in the game. Treat her the way I treated all the rest. I didn’t want to do anything that might prompt her to ask any more questions about me.
‘Sit down,’ I ordered.
She stayed where she was for a second, then slowly backed up to the chair and sat down on it. Her head tipped back as she looked up at me, her pulse racing in the hollow of her throat, that star glittering in her throat. And I could picture her midnight eyes behind that blindfold, pupils dilated...
‘You sure you want this?’ I asked to be certain. ‘It won’t work if you don’t want it.’
‘I want it.’ There was no hesitation in her voice, none at all. ‘I want you.’
I felt that ripple through me, so fucking sweet. It was always sweet when they wanted me but somehow, right now with her, it was even sweeter.
She’d been too young for me back then and way too innocent. I’d been far more interested in the beautiful girls who’d flung themselves at me half-naked and pouting, with big hair and lots of make-up, than in shy, gangly teenagers with stars in their eyes.
Shit, she was too young and innocent for me now, despite her tattoos and punk rock hair. But she wanted me...
It’s not you.
Oh, I knew that. But that didn’t matter. I’d take what I could get.
I reached down and laid a finger across that sweet pouty mouth, just because I could. Because I wanted to.
Her breath caught.
‘Don’t talk,’ I said. ‘No questions, no arguments. No protests. You do what I say when I say it. Nod if you agree.’
She nodded.
I took my finger away and then, bending my head, I covered her mouth with mine.
The rush of her indrawn breath was loud and she went utterly still. Her mouth was soft and warm. I’d intended the merest brush of my lips against hers, but the heat of her swept through me like light through a dark room. And, before I knew what I was doing, I’d thrust my fingers in her hair, gripping onto the short, silky strands, easing her head back as I coaxed her to open for me with my tongue.
For a second she remained rigid in my hold, as if she hadn’t yet made up her mind whether she wanted to or not. Then a little moan escaped her, her mouth opened under mine and all her heat rushed into me.
I didn’t have a lot of feeling in my torso, not with all the scar tissue, so
I used my mouth instead, and I liked to spend a lot of time kissing. Not for the intimacy of it, but for the sensation. For the heat and the taste. For the softness.
And she was all of those things. All of those things and more. Hot. Sweet. Rich. Like a chocolate fudge sundae. She might be spiky on the outside, and challenging and tart, but inside she was all melted sugar and warm honey.
I pushed my tongue deeper into her mouth, tilting her head back so I had better access, exploring her and taking my time about it, my free hand gripping her jaw, holding her still as I ravaged her mouth, tasting her as deeply as I could, then nipping at the full curve of her bottom lip.
She tried to kiss me back, a moan vibrating in her throat, and I let her, loving how her tongue made shy forays into my mouth, tasting me as I was tasting her.
God, if I’d known she’d taste this good, I wouldn’t have let myself get distracted by cheerleaders, that was for fucking sure.
I wanted to keep going, but I needed to be careful. She already thought I was familiar to her in some way, and I couldn’t risk lingering too close when that was already an issue.
I pulled back, keeping a hold on her as she tried to follow me.
Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her mouth red and glossy. The tips of her breasts were very hard and rosy, and I could smell the scent of feminine musk beneath the sweet smell of her candy-floss body wash.
Were those big, blue eyes of hers wide behind that blindfold? Were her pupils dilated? If I were to pull it away, would she be shocked to see that it was me all along who’d been kissing her? Would she get angry? Or would she pull me down for another kiss?
No, I couldn’t let myself think that. I couldn’t let her see who I was. The thought excited me, though, which was fucked up in the extreme considering the whole wrongness of it.
I straightened, trying to get my own breathing under control. ‘Sit back in the chair.’
She eased herself back obediently.
I reached down, cupping the back of her sleek left calf, then lifted it up and out, gently hooking her leg over the arm of the chair.
She stiffened and gave a gasp, her hands pushing down on the seat beneath her as if she wanted to get up.
But I didn’t stop, reaching for her other leg and doing the same to that one so they were both hooked over the arms of the chair, spreading her thighs wide apart, leaving every part of her exposed and open to my gaze.
Her breathing was audible, a panting sound, and she was still sitting there stiffly. She didn’t move.
I straightened, the ache behind my zipper getting even worse as I looked at her.
She was so pretty with that little nest of black curls exposed, her flesh pink and slick and all for me.
Tension had gathered in her. I could see it in the way her arms were pressing down on the seat cushions and in the slight hunch of her shoulders. Her thighs trembled slightly.
‘Uncomfortable?’ I asked, allowing myself a long, leisurely survey of her beautiful body.
‘No.’ She’d relaxed back against the chair, her breasts rising and falling, fast and hard. ‘I’m just fine.’
‘You’re not fine.’ I studied how soft and vulnerable her mouth had become, and how down between her slender thighs she was all wet. ‘You’re turned on. I think you like being looked at, don’t you?’
‘Yes. I like you looking at me very much.’ Her hands lifted to her thighs, stroking down them in a caressing motion. ‘Would you like me to do...something for you?’
A thrill arrowed down my spine at how eager and responsive she was. God, I’d barely had to do anything and already she was ready to please.
Why is that, do you think? When she was so uncomfortable before?
But that was something I didn’t want to think about too hard, so I didn’t. She wasn’t uncomfortable now, that was the main thing. She was flushed everywhere, and that pretty little pussy was wet. Her nipples were hard.
She was aroused, and obviously so.
‘All right,’ I murmured. ‘Remember that example I talked about? Where you were supposed to get naked and touch yourself?’
‘Oh...yes...’
‘Then I think you know what to do.’
I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe for her to distract me again with another question, or somehow derail things. I’d told her earlier what I’d wanted. Would she remember? And, more importantly, would she do it?
But that determined chin told its own story. Of course she would.
I remembered Vesta as a kid, when I’d helped her with her homework, and recalled her determination not to let her dyslexia put her at a disadvantage. Pushing and pushing and pushing. Crying at how tiring it was for her to work out even a simple sentence, and yet not stopping. Even then she’d been such a stubborn thing.
She leaned her head against the back of the chair and her mouth curled. ‘Then prepare to have your mind blown, ace.’
CHAPTER NINE
Vesta
MY HEART WAS beating so hard I thought it might come out of my chest. Shivers chased themselves all over my skin, and I was intensely aware of the smooth leather of the chair beneath me, now warm from my body. Warm at my back too. Aware, also, of the stretch of my inner thighs, the arms of the chair holding them wide.
I ached, burned. The dragging, heavy pressure between my thighs, deep in my sex, was getting worse by the second.
But most of all I was aware of him, standing in front of my chair. Him. The man I’d been helplessly in love with for half my life.
The tangled mess of feelings in my chest hadn’t untangled themselves yet, but right now the main emotion I’d chosen to go with was joy. Utter joy in the moment. That he was here with me. And that he’d kissed me. And it was as amazing as I’d always fantasised it would be.
I could still feel his mouth on mine. Still feel the imprint of his lips, warm, firm and effortlessly masterful. Could still taste him, mint and dark chocolate, so delicious. Like I’d imagined but better, so much better.
Gorgeous Eli, whom I’d never forgotten, no matter how many times I’d tried.
And I’d figured out why he’d sounded angry earlier, why he’d wanted to send me away. He was trying to protect me because he’d always been protective like that, making sure I was okay, so seeing me here must have been a huge shock.
But he hadn’t told me who he was, not when he’d arrived in the room and not as we’d talked. And he hadn’t told me when I’d argued about leaving or when I’d taken my clothes off. He’d stayed silent. Even when he’d held my hand down on his zipper...
Which could only mean one thing: Eli Hart wanted me.
A full body shiver coursed through me, my thoughts tumbling around in my head.
Finally, after so many years, Eli Hart wanted me. Me. Not a cheerleader or a football groupie. Not someone beautiful or curvaceous. Not one of those bright, glittering women he’d always seemed to prefer. Not much of anything at all.
Just me. Shy and awkward and plain Vesta the virgin.
I could barely breathe, intense excitement filling me, my most treasured fantasy happening right here in this room. It was not some faceless man helping me put down Eli’s ghost, blindfolded so I could impose Eli’s face over his, but Eli himself. The actual man.
Eli, wanting me. Eli, desperate to have me.
Me. After so many years of me wanting him.
I focused on him standing in front of my chair, focused on him to the exclusion of everything else. He was so clear in my memory, the Eli I’d completely fallen for. Broad shoulders, wide chest and lean hips. Blond hair and the perfect, masculine beauty of his face. High cheekbones and forehead, straight nose, a beautiful mouth that curled at the corners in his flat-out beautiful, easy smile. Then his eyes, golden-brown and emerald-green, fringed with dark gold lashes. Warm and full of amusement.
He was breath
-taking and no wonder his future in the NFL had always seemed so certain. He played like a god and his face was pure endorsement material. He was on his way to being king. At least, that was how everyone else saw him.
But I saw the only person who’d ever noticed me. Who’d ever thought I was something special. Who’d told me that I wasn’t stupid, that I was a star. A rose. That I was smart and talented, and that I could be whoever I wanted to be.
My chest was tight with emotion, a thousand questions in my head. But it wasn’t the time for questions, and the demands of my body were getting to be too much to ignore. He was there, right there, and I could feel the pressure of his gaze. It was as intent as a predator watching prey, and now I was his prey. He was so hungry for me...
I’d never done this before in front of someone, much less him. There might have been a few fantasies or two back when I’d been younger—him accidentally walking into my bedroom while I was touching myself—but I’d never thought those fantasies would become reality. Never imagined it actually happening.
Now it was. And, really, I thought I’d be much more nervous, worried about disappointing him. Worried that I wouldn’t be enough in some way, not as pretty, as experienced or as sexy as those other girls.
But I wasn’t nervous. I had his full attention and I knew he was here for me. And he wanted me. I’d felt the evidence of that want and, besides, he’d told me what to do himself, hadn’t he? All I had to do was that.
I ran my hands down my thighs, quivering slightly at the touch of my own fingers on my skin. I imagined they were his hands, his fingers lightly stroking. His perfect features would be set in hard lines of hunger and his eyes would be glittering with desire. He wouldn’t be able to tear his gaze away.
I stroked down between my thighs, finding slick flesh, making pleasure curl through me. A soft sound escaped and I shuddered as I found my achingly sensitive clit, teasing it gently. The pleasure increased, becoming sharp as I circled it with the tip of one finger, my thighs trembling.
In the Dark--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Page 7