Elijah

by Kate Tilney

  “In Seattle?”

  “I grew up in South Dakota.”

  Interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed. Then again, I don’t know why I wouldn’t have thought that either. In truth, I’ve done a lot of thinking about Elijah over the past few days. And not much of that has had to do with where either of us is from.

  “Like the Badlands, Mount Rushmore, and Deadwood?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Not so fast Hollywood. I’m from the other side of the state.”

  If he was sitting next to me instead of across from me, I’d elbow him in the ribs. I settle with a light kick against his shins. He’s lucky his dog ruined the only pair of heels I packed along, or he’d be rolling around in pain.

  “So that’s the east?” I ask. When he nods, I follow up with, “What’s that like?”

  “Flatland for hundreds of miles. Fields of corn and alfalfa.” he shrugs. “Nothing too exciting.”

  I must be a sucker for his broad shoulders and green eyes because I think everything about him is exciting.

  “You know, I once worked on a nature show.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Working in nature documentaries set you up for a future in trash TV.”

  “You can get experience lots of places,” I reply, ignoring his barb about my chosen career path. Honestly, it’s not the worst one I’ve had. “I learned all kinds of interesting stuff on that show.”

  “Like?”

  Shoot. I really shouldn’t have set myself up for a question like that. Especially not when I was just struggling to remember one random fact about fireflies. Then it hits me.

  “Did you know fireflies hibernate in the winter? Just like bears.” I squint, as the rest of the fact comes to mind. “Actually, it’s the larvae that hibernate. They burrow under the ground or in trees. And they only come out again once it warms up. That’s why you only see them in the spring.”

  “What happens to the ones that are larvae?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. They probably die.”

  He nods, slowly, apparently only moderately impressed by my random fact. Frowning, I search my brain for something better. Something less gloomy.

  “Did you know why the butts light up?” I ask.

  “Not a clue, bug girl.”

  Here’s hoping that nickname doesn’t stick. “It’s a mating deal. They light up to let the other fireflies know they’re open for business.”

  A grin breaks out on his face then, and I’m momentarily stupefied. “So they light up, find each other, and live happily ever after.”

  The rest of the fact comes to mind. “Actually, I don’t know. But in some insects, the women bite the heads of the men off after they mate.”

  He winces, and I can’t blame him. Seriously. Where are these random facts coming from? Before I can save face, a drop of water splashes on the table. We both glance up, and for the first time, I see that clouds have rolled in.

  “Is it supposed to storm tonight?” I ask.

  “Looks like it.” Rising to his feet, Elijah holds out his hand. “Come on. I’ll see you home.”

  Even though it’s a joke—because we’re definitely headed the same place—my heart flutters at his words. I don’t know, Elijah is nothing like the men I’ve dated in the past. Maybe that’s what I like about him.

  As his warm hand envelops mine, and my heart does another pitter-patter, I have to admit, there’s a lot I like about this man.

  4

  ELIJAH

  A crash of thunder and lightning jerks me awake. I bolt upright, rubbing at my eyes, my heart racing. Remembering that it’s just the storm, I lean back against my pillows and reach across the bed for Peg. I hit nothing but bare sheets.

  I jerk up again and flip on the lamp next to my bed. Where the heck is Peg? In addition to flunking his first round of search and rescue training, he’s also a bit of a baby when it comes to storms. That’s why I’m usually so attuned to the sound of thunder.

  Glancing around the room I find nothing. Just a slightly open door.

  “Great. Just great.” He’s probably consoling himself in another pair of Hannah’s underwear. Or shoes. Though they’d made some kind of peace earlier today, I’m pretty sure another destroyed piece of clothing will put Peg and I both in the doghouse.

  Tugging on my jeans, I’m nearly out the door of my room when I hear soft voices in the room next to mine. Pausing just outside Hannah’s door, where a splash of light pools out, I hear her.

  “It’s just a little bit of thunder and lightning. Nothing to worry about,” she croons. “You’re a sweet boy. Aren’t you? Even if you do have expensive taste in leather and silk. Though, I suppose I should do a better job of keeping it out of reach for you.”

  I can’t help but grin at that. I’ve had a similar thought several times myself, but I kept it to myself. I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

  “You know, you remind me of someone I used to know.” Her words make my heart hitch, and my breath catches in my throat. “When I was a little girl, I used to have a dog who looked just like you. His name was Sully. And he was my very best friend.”

  Oh, I don’t like where this story is headed.

  “You probably wonder what happened to Sully,” she continues. “I wish I could tell you. My parents split up when I was nine. Before that, they fought all the time. I’d hide in my bed with Sully. He kept me feeling safe. But after the divorce, my parents gave him away.” Her breath hitches, and it’s like a dagger to my heart. “I didn’t even get to say good-bye. They just gave him away, because they didn’t know what to do with him. It broke my heart. I told myself I’d never love another dog again. But I could maybe make an exception for you.”

  I’ve eavesdropped too long. Unable to stop myself, I knock on the door. She glances up, startled, but thankfully tear-free. My heart would’ve busted in two if she’d been crying. Clearing my throat, I stare at Peg, who’s getting his ear scratched in just the way he likes.

  “Is that fur ball bothering you?” I ask.

  “We were just talking about rain and storms. We’re both better for it.” She makes a kissy face at him. “Aren’t we Peg?”

  His leg thumps in pleasure at the scratching.

  “Did the storm wake you up?” she asks.

  I nod. And because I don’t quite want this moment to end, my next words are a lie. “I was going to make some hot chocolate. Would you like a cup?”

  Her eyes warm up. “I’d like that.”

  Leaving Peg to chew a bone on Hannah’s bed, we move to the kitchen. I open three cupboards before I realize we don’t actually have hot chocolate. I turn to give Hannah the bad news but bump into her. I start to apologize, but as I catch the glint of interest in her upturned face, I come undone. A spark ignites between us.

  My fingers dive into her hair as her hands slide up and link behind my neck. Our lips meet as another crash of thunder echoes around us. I never tear my lips from hers as I move her back toward the couch in the middle of the great room. Her hands move over my arms and chest. The muscles ripple under her fingers, and I groan into her mouth.

  I want her. Here. Now. And I realize this is where we’ve been headed from the moment I met her outside wearing nothing but a towel. Every shared glance, every word, every chewed pair of panties was leading us to this moment.

  “Don’t stop,” she says into my mouth.

  “Never.”

  Tearing my mouth from hers, I slip the thin straps holding up her gown over her shoulders. I stare at her body hungrily, loving every curve, every soft piece of flesh. Most of all, I love the hunger and passion in her eyes as she reaches for the top button of my jeans. She tugs them down as I lower my head to pepper kisses over her bare shoulder. She sighs, angling her head to grant me more access as my jeans fall to the floor.

  Now that we’re both naked, I scoop her up and lower her to the couch. I kneel between her thighs. Her lips part. Her breath catches in her throat as I press my lips against
the smooth skin of her inner thigh. She gasps and I grin as my fingers and mouth find her sweet center.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about doing this?” I ask.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted you to?”

  Chuckling, I slide my tongue over her seam as I slip a finger through her folds. Her thighs tense up beside me and she makes an enticing moan as I lap her up like an ice cream sundae on the hottest day of summer. Only she tastes a million times better. I can feel myself growing harder as I lick and stroke. With every taste, and every sound she makes, the more I want to shower her with pleasure.

  Her hands dive into my hair and grip onto it hard as she makes the most arousing sound I’ve ever heard. I never let up as her orgasm takes hold. When her hands go limp in my hair, I ease back to stare up at her. I catch her watching me through partially closed eyes. Her lips are still wet and swollen from our earlier kiss. Her full breasts rising up and down rapidly.

  Damn, that’s one hell of a view.

  “That was . . .”—she sighs—“there aren’t words for what that was. But the words mind-blowing, and earth-shattering come to mind.”

  I grin against her thigh, enjoying the way her smooth skin feels against the scruff of my short beard. I kiss her center once more and lean back on my heels.

  “What now?” I ask, having a pretty good idea of where I’d like to take this next.

  “I’d say we’re getting started,” she says, gazing down at me through pleasure-hooded eyes. “I’d say your throbbing member has a date with my lady parts.”

  I choke on a laugh. Recovering as quickly as I can, I can’t help but grin at her and that sassy mouth of hers.

  “Throbbing member? Lady parts?”

  She lifts her bare shoulders, the firelight sparkling on her skin. “I work in Hollywood. You know how we are with our words.”

  “I’ll show you what to do with your words.” I grip onto her hips, and before she can blink, I flip her over. “And maybe, I’ll use a few of my own.”

  5

  HANNAH

  My body is still trembling as Elijah moves me onto my stomach. The leather of the couch strokes my skin as he moves my hands so they’re flat against the sofa. My knees are firmly planted on the hardwood floor as his hard, calloused hands move up and down my skin. My body tingles in anticipation.

  Shoving my mess of blonde hair over one shoulder, his tongue and teeth scrape against the curve of my neck. I arch my back, pressing my butt against his hard length.

  “God I need you inside of me,” I moan.

  “Patience,” he murmurs against my skin, sending a delicious tickle through me. His hands stroke up my hips, scraping against the skin to find my breasts. He cups them both, toying with the pert nipples, ready and craving his touch.

  “I never was good at being patient.”

  “I promise it’ll be worth it.” He gives a playful pinch to one of my nipples and I cry out.

  “More,” I beg.

  He does it again, and that familiar longing builds low in my belly again as his hands explore every inch of my body. In this position, I’m entirely at his mercy as he lavishes love over and over me.

  I can feel him growing harder pressed against me. It only makes me want him more. Makes me want all of him. Makes me want to feel him in my most intimate place over and over again as he takes me and makes me his. The pressure builds and grows. Still, he stokes the fire within me, touching me. Feeling me. Turning me into putty in his hands until he molds me up again.

  It’s all too much. I’m all sensation. All feeling. And now, I need to be all his.

  I push my backside against his groin again, earning a groan. I bite back a grin, thrilled to know I can have some effect on him, even on my hands and knees.

  “I say be patient,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “And I said I wanted you inside of me,” I call over my shoulder. “Now.”

  Grunting, I feel him move back slightly. He reaches for his jeans and tugs a condom out. He holds it up toward me. I bite onto the edge, as he rips the foil open. He disappears behind me again. I imagine him gliding the condom over his hard, thick length. He lines himself up against me. My skin tingles as I wait.

  He grips my hips, his fingers digging in as he pushes inside of me. I suck in a breath as he moves in deeper and deeper, every inch until I’m filled completely

  “How’s that feel?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.

  “No. Words.”

  He pulls out and thrusts back in. I gasp out, crying for him. When he pulls out again, I push against him. Meeting him thrust for thrust. I can feel his chest bead with sweat against my back. Our breaths grow faster, shorter, more urgent. Like the burning inside of me.

  He slides one of his hands forward between my legs. He finds my sweet spot again as he continues to bury himself in me. When I feel myself quiver and quake again, I call out his name. My body seems to explode in wonder and pleasure as he takes us both over the edge. I’m still pulsing with joy through every inch of my body as his thighs stiffen against mine.

  With a final grunt, he pushes inside of me, taking his own pleasure.

  We collapse back onto the floor. Elijah holds me close to his chest. His hand strokes my long hair. It’s so soothing, so precious, it would probably lull me to sleep if I wasn’t completely turned on. Again.

  “Do you think any of the contestants on that show of yours will end up like this?” he asks his low voice rumbling against my ear.

  “I sure hope so.” I snuggle in closer against it. “Our ratings would go through the roof.”

  “You can show sex on screen?”

  “We can allude to sex on screen. We’ll leave everything else to the viewers’ imaginations.”

  He chuckles, the rumble of his voice and the hair on his chest tickle my ear, sending a delightful shiver down my spine. He really is a sexy son of a gun.

  When he’s still laughing almost a minute later, I poke him in his chest. “Why’s that so funny?”

  “I’m just guessing people’s imaginations can get pretty steamy,” he says. “A hot couple making love on a bearskin rug while the fire roars in the background.”

  “Or maybe up against a tree in the middle of the wilderness,” I suggest, warming to the idea. “A campfire lighting their silhouettes.”

  “Taking shelter from a storm in a cave. Their bodies glistening with rain and sweat.”

  “Don’t forget about the fire.” I stroke his chest, feeling the fire within myself beginning to burn even brighter. “This is Camp Mountain Man. There always has to be a fire.”

  “Of course.” His hand lowers down my back, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he reaches my bare derrière. “It’s too bad.”

  “What’s too bad?”

  He shifts to pull me on top of him, his hardness pressing against me as I straddle his legs. “Nothing any of those couples do will ever be half as hot as what I have in mind.”

  Then, he proceeds to show me over and over again just what he means. And I can’t deny he’s probably right. I don’t see how anyone could fit together better than we do.

  6

  ELIJAH

  The following morning, Hannah presses her lips to my cheek while I’m reading the newspaper at the kitchen counter. “I like a man who stays on top of the news.”

  “Funny, last night I thought you liked a man to stay on top of you.”

  Under under. And behind. And around . . .

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to use those one-liners on me anymore. After last night, I’d say you already sealed the deal.”

  “And just how many times did I seal the deal?”

  “A lady never kisses and tells.”

  “Not even to the man she was kissing?”

  She shakes her head and slides behind the counter to fill a travel mug with coffee. It’s then I see she’s dressed in some of her new athletic gear. The way those leggings are sculpting that fine ass of hers, I’
d love nothing more than to peel them off of her right about now. Damn, but she’s a gorgeous woman. My gorgeous woman. And now that she’s my gorgeous woman, I have no plans of letting her go.

  And on that note . . . “Where are you headed?”

  “You’re fishing with some of the menfolk today, right?”

  “That’s the plan.” Though, I wouldn’t mind changing those plans if it meant crawling back into bed with her for an hour or four.

  “I thought I might take Peg for a walk.”

  His ears twitch at the word.

  My jaw falls open. “You want to take Peg for a walk?”

  Now his head pops up and his eyes go wild. I suppose that’s what I get for using the “W” word.

  “I know it probably seems like the blind leading the blind, but I figured it could be good for us.” She rests a hip against the counter. “What? Are you worried we might run away together?”

  “Now I am.” Though, in truth, the notion of my woman and my dog getting better acquainted warms my heart. “You won’t go too far?”

  “I promise we won’t go too far.” She makes an “X” over her heart. I find myself staring at her chest for an extra moment before meeting her gaze. “Are you satisfied now?”

  “I suppose so.” I give a long, drawn-out sigh. “But before you go, you have to pay the toll.”

  She arches her eyebrows. “A toll.”

  I tap the side of my cheek, the way my grandad used to beg for a kiss from my grandma any time either of them was leaving. Grandad always said he fell in love with her the moment their eyes met across the counter of a soda shop. I always thought that was just talk, but now I know what he means. Only instead of meeting Hannah in a Norman Rockwell painting, we met outside of this cabin. Her in a towel. My dog sniffing her crotch.

  Hook. Line. And sinker. She stole my heart. And now, I’ll do everything to keep hers.