His hand slowly crawled down my body, heading for an area he shouldn’t have been permitted to touch—at least not yet.
“No,” I stated firmly, but my voice barely carried.
His stare burned right through me, threatening me not to speak any further. “No is a very negative word that I don’t too much care for.” He slid his hand farther down, stopping short at my hip, circling the skin over my hipbone with the light touch of his fingertips.
I bit my lip to stifle a whimper. His touch, both wanted and unwanted, moved my body in involuntary ways. It was better than I imagined when I pretended my hands were his. I felt guilty for enjoying it and inviting him to touch the part of me that would’ve revealed one of my secrets. “Stop. I don’t want you to touch me there.”
Ceasing the movement of his hand, he examined me with a smirk. “Really?” he asked, the incredulity cutting into the simple word. “Are you scared I’ll find out that you’re a bullshit artist? It’s too late. I already know that you are.” His mouth slid down my jawline to kiss a sensitive area of my neck, igniting my skin with a pleasurable sizzle. “Tell me the truth.”
“I want your fingers inside of me,” I conceded, the tonality of my voice scratchy and thin.
He was painstakingly slow with the way his hand moved from my hip to my pussy. His thumb stroked my slit up and down and circled over my clit. He touched me just enough to make me burn for him, but not enough to give me any semblance of a release through pleasure.
His kissed me softly, whispering against my mouth, “You’re dripping wet.” Sinking his teeth into the swell of my lip, he pulled it apart from my teeth. He scraped his teeth against my bottom lip as he released the sore, plump flesh from his torture. “Provoking the jealous man I’m capable of becoming might turn you on, but keep pissing me off and you’ll bring out a man who will scare you senseless.” He lifted up, taking my hand with him to stand. He readjusted my dress and my hair, ensuring I looked as close to the way I appeared when I arrived as possible.
I tried to adjust to the swift motion and focus on something in particular. Searching the floor, I saw my La Dentelle panties, shredded.
Elias lifted my chin, enforcing eye contact. “Tomorrow, you will come to watch me race. I’ll text the address to you one hour before. Listen to my warnings and stop the mind games. They won’t work on me, querida. They never have.”
“La Dentelle closes early on Sunday,” I croaked, “but I have to check on my father, he gets really lonely…” I paused to take in the look on his face. No matter how much I tried to decorate the word no, it was still a word he had issues with. “I can work something out.”
“The race starts at five. No excuses. Does Jaco need to take you there tomorrow?”
“I think I can get my coworker to take me.”
He cut his eyes at me.
“It won’t be Skylar.”
“If she can’t, you have my number.” With his hands at either side of my hips, he pulled me in close. “You look incredible tonight, Hanley.” He gave me a sweet brief kiss before he tugged me back to the grand hall. The moment we hit the main area, he walked off, acting as though we didn’t have an intense interaction only minutes earlier.
Skylar approached me and fingered a stray lock of hair to fall behind my ear. “Did he screw you that fast? Wow. I guess the girls I knew were wrong about him being the energizer bunny.”
I linked arms with her, dragging her with me. “We are leaving now, and those guys we came with can find their own way home.”
SEVEN
THREE HOURS INTO MY shift at La Dentelle, I asked Claudia if I could take a coffee break. After she granted me permission to leave, I wrestled the garment bag from the backroom, intending to return it to the boutique I had purchased it from. Opening the bag, I checked it over, making sure it was in good condition and used the tagging gun on the desk to replace the tag.
At the boutique, the return sale went off without hitch. Although the sales associate was none too pleased with me—her negative attitude was palpable—I kept up my pleasant demeanor, because I couldn’t blame her. Many customers had tried to return items from La Dentelle that were previously worn. The store’s policy was to take everything, and if we suspected they were worn, they were thrown out.
I thought I had gotten away with my wear and return trick. But, just after Claudia locked up the double doors, closing La Dentelle, the same associate who helped me before raced up to Claudia and me. On her arm, she carried the all too familiar branded garment bag, but it appeared a little thicker in width than it was when I returned it.
“I’m sorry,” the associate said through pants. “I almost forgot to bring this to you. So glad I caught you.” She placed her hand on her chest and smiled at me. “I’m Anne, and anytime you want to shop at Carista, I’ll be more than happy to be your personal stylist.” With a friendly grin, she presented the garment bag to me.
Confused, I skeptically took the bag from her arms. Curious to what was inside, I unzipped it. Not only was I faced with the dress I’d returned earlier in the day, but three other dresses—that aligned with my personal style—were also provided.
With a parting nod, Anne handed me an envelope and went on her way. I fingered the note, sliding it from the Carista brand stamped envelope to read the handwritten message:
This dress was made for you.
It should be in your closet and remain there.
So you won’t have to return a dress in the near future again,
I’ve included a few more.
Elias
Claudia was standing over my shoulder, but I quickly closed the card before she could read it.
She threw her hands on her hips and proclaimed, “Okay, I really have to meet this mystery guy of yours.”
“SO WHICH ONE is yours?” Claudia asked me as we sat in the makeshift stands. I eyed the paved circular road in the middle of a clearing while I listened to the men in front of us debate about engines.
I glanced back at Claudia with a smile. “He’s not really mine.”
She playfully grabbed my knee and shoved it. “From what you’ve told me, and seeing those dresses he bought you, he is definitely yours and a little smitten. Mmm, to be in my twenties again. Love hard and fast.”
“I’m almost out of my twenties, and love? Please don’t mention that word to me. We are so far from that word.” I looked over the crowd and pointed to him. He stood next to the car at the starting line, socializing with a few guys—or rather, having a quiet argument. “He’s the one in the black button-down.”
She gasped in surprise. “You did good, Hanley. The town’s most eligible twenty-nine-year-old bachelor and he’s exclusively dating you? Aren’t you the lucky one?”
The cars pulled up to the starting line, waiting for the staging lights to change. Out of nervousness, I grabbed Claudia’s hand for support. “I’m nervous for him,” I explained over the loud roar of the engines and the crowd.
“Don’t worry,” she assured me. “I’m sure his father taught him well. He knows what he’s doing.”
“You hear about accidents even with the veterans—” The abrupt and loud sound of the engines made us cover our ears as they sped off.
I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t listen. Through my palms over my ears, the sounds brought about a reaction that was hard to ignore. My heart raced. My brain began to submit to a fuzzy cloud, preventing rational thought. My steady breaths turned into pants. My body temperature warmed against the cool early-evening air. Unable to take much more, I began to think I never should’ve agreed to come.
While grabbing me by the shoulders, Claudia constantly cheered, “He won. Your man won.”
I gave her a tepid smile as I began to feel comfortable in my own body again.
“I think I spot someone I know. See you at work on Monday.”
I casually went down to the ground level, wading through the crowd to get through to Elias and got stuck behind a group of women. The crowd separa
ted, permitting Elias to walk a narrow path toward me. A huge grin spread across his face when he saw me. With his strong hands around my waist, he lifted me in the air while keeping my body pressed against his. Smiling, I slid down his body with my hands in his sweat-tinged, silky and thick dark hair. I caught his lips against mine on the way down, stressing to him how thankful I was for the gift he gave me earlier.
ELIAS’S HOME WAS situated on a cul-de-sac surrounded by three and a half acres of woodlands. The large two-story foyer opened to the second level and contained a grand center staircase leading to the north and south wings. The walls were decorated in some variant shade of black with white crown molding accents. The marble floors were imprinted with geometric designs in black and white, broken up to prevent creating a specific pattern throughout the house. Splashes of bright jewel tones here and there were set perfectly against the stark black and white theme.
His office downstairs was accentuated with glass fixtures and dark wood furniture. From the built-in bookcases, I could tell he was well read. The plaques and framed diplomas on the walls made it clear that he excelled in his extensive education and his firm was well recognized.
I wandered around the upstairs level, counting eight large bedrooms in total. Following the sounds where the shower stream was the loudest, I happened upon Elias’s bedroom with a bathroom en suite. The walls were painted gray and the king-size canopy bed—situated against the far wall—was draped in heavy dark print fabrics.
Between the bedroom and an adjoining bedroom was a small hall containing a few glass curio cabinets with several trophies varying in size.
“My father’s,” he said from behind me. He moved with the stealth of a ninja. I hadn’t heard him come into the hall, and his sudden appearance startled me out of my skin. “He was going to throw them out when he quit racing. I decided to keep them.”
In the cabinet’s reflection, I could see Elias behind me, shirtless. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled. The defined chest and abdominal muscles proved my theories about him taking good care of his body. My gaze followed the thin sparse line of black hair that trailed down his firm and chiseled stomach and led to a place his pants hindered me from seeing. His sculpted waist curved inward, and downward; I caught a glimpse of a very prominent sartorius muscle.
I closed my mouth upon realizing I left it hanging open. “Watching you, I was kind of scared for you.”
He clutched my hand and turned me around to regard him. “Did you watch me? Because I think you watched the entire race with your eyes closed.”
It became difficult to focus on anything besides his body. A light mist of moisture draped his clean cotton-scented skin. His body was incredibly sculpted with sharp defined cuts into his very tan skin. His muscles were shapely, but not bulky. Perfection. “You…saw me?” I asked dreamily without giving him eye contact. “How?”
“I couldn’t see you, Hanley, you just told me your eyes were closed.” He ran his finger along my jawline, triggering an internal sensation that felt like I was floating, and lifted my chin to ensure my attention remained on his face. “Does it bother you?”
I couldn’t think of a proper answer to his question. Any answer I had to give would’ve given too much away. My mind fell back into its distracted state with the way he was underdressed. It was new—wanting a man strongly and sexually. I hadn’t the slightest idea of how and why it happened, but it did.
His hard body pressed against mine and he wrapped one arm around me, mashing our bodies together. With his available hand, he combed his fingers through my hair and brushed one side behind my shoulder. Leaning to my side, he kissed the lobe of my ear softly. “Why are you so distracted?” His teeth sank into my lobe and pulled, eliciting a slight shocking sensation up my spine.
I closed my eyes, relenting to the feeling I knew was wrong, but it felt too good to deny. I felt like I fit with him—as though I was supposed to be here when I never felt safe enough to find the comfort to be myself anywhere else. “You—your body.”
Pulling back from my ear, he caressed my lips with his mouth and smiled crookedly at the reaction he pulled out of me—he made me quiver. “Can you look at me instead of my cock when I’m speaking to you? You’ll know what it feels like inside of you very soon.”
“I can pay attention,” I whispered, my voice failing me.
“Good.” Taking a small step back, he allowed me room to breathe but kept his arms tightly around me. “My father gave me a production car before I could legally drive. I know what I’m doing,” he assured me, returning to our previous conversation.
“Cars are machines. Machines can fail no matter what the operator does or doesn’t do.” I glimpsed briefly at the trophies from over my shoulder, particularly the one earned twelve years ago. “Were you ever pressured to follow your father’s career path?”
“In the beginning. Believe it or not, I had my heart set on playing baseball. Things…changed. Even if I decided to pursue a professional career in racing at this point, my mother would never allow that to happen, after…” Although his eyes were locked on me, they seemed to descend into a faraway place that left him unable to continue.
“Did something happen to make your father quit?” I asked.
“My father wanted me to enter the Juniors back when I was eighteen, to work my way up to the Nationals, but…it’s too much politics. Without greasing the wheels of the sponsors, it can be very expensive. I didn’t want to depend on my father for money, and I didn’t want it to become something else other than a fun hobby back then. I do it now for the thrill. It’s only recreational.”
His avoidance of my question didn't go unnoticed. The look on my face told him I caught on, but the expression he greeted me with indicated he wouldn't expand on what I wanted to know. “Why did you give up on your dream of playing baseball to do what you do now? Did you always want to own an architectural firm?”
“By the time I was able to answer that question, it was too late. My paternal grandfather did it, and I think my father pointed the disappointment his father had for him on me. My dream of playing baseball was crushed at the insistence of my father, pushing me into racing. He pushed me even harder to open the firm. My grandfather’s connections helped me along a little, but most of it was my doing. I received my biggest break when I bid on a job I was barely equipped to complete. My team was small back then, it’s a wonder how we got the job done. It put me on this path, and now…” He looked around. “I work diligently Monday through Friday, but my weekends are mine, no matter what.”
“I know what you mean about certain things being required.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “From what you said about your father, he seems codependent.”
“He has a reason. He hasn’t been the same since my mother… She was the love of his life, and we lost her suddenly, brutally. I watched what happened to her…every second of it…as it unraveled.”
“That had to be traumatic for you.” He pulled me closer, holding me so tightly I could feel the ridges of his body against my chest. “I’m sorry, Hanley,” he said softly. “Is that why it’s difficult for you talk about it?”
“I have nightmares sometimes.” I pressed my palms against the damp skin on his chest. “We should…get going to your brother’s.” I took his arms from around me and headed down the corridor.
His arms were around me before I could go farther. “If there is anything you need”—his words were pressed in a low and empathetic tone at my ear—“I’m here for you.”
"Thank you, Elias. I really appreciate that."
He twirled me around to face him. “I think your father is holding you back. It might be a good idea for you to move out of his house. You don’t need to be faced with the constant reminder of a time you wished you could forget.”
I disengaged his arms from around me again, really ready to go. “Don’t give me advice about my relationship with my father,” I said without demand or bitterness. “You don’t understand. W
e’ve been through a lot. When I’m ready to leave him, I will. Right now, we need each other and there is nothing wrong with that.”
The emotion drained from his face as he scrutinized me. “Understood, Hanley,” he stated coldly, deepening the octave of his voice. The charming and endearing man faded away for a version that was intimidating. “Fair warning… don’t make this a habit.”
I began to walk backward. The look darkening his face alarmed me and intrigued me all at once. “You aren’t above reproach.”
He grabbed me again, this time pushing me against the wall with a force falling somewhere between gentle and harsh. “You’re very rough around the edges when it comes to relationships.” His voice was whisper quiet but held enough wickedness to terrify me a little more. “Even more so when it comes to how you should behave when you're with me.” He leaned forward, touching his forehead against mine. His hand clasped either side of my neck, holding me firm enough to feel the pressure but not tight enough to restrain my breathing. “Don’t ever disrespect me when I tell you to do something.” Every word was dramatically enunciated and brimmed with increasing anger while he kept the volume of his voice low.
Torn between turned on over his vexation and furor over his need to constantly direct my actions, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why, Elias? Are you going to hit me and keep me in line? You’re threatening me a little too early in our relationship, don’t you think?”
He searched my eyes with impassivity for too many silent moments. “Men who beat women to keep them in line have the social intelligence of a goldfish. When I want to keep you in line, Hanley, I won't need to use my fists to destroy your beautiful face.”
“Oh? What will you use?”
He slowly simpered. “That's very cute. You don’t even realize, I've been doing it since the minute we met.” He kissed my forehead and parted from me, disappearing back inside his bedroom.
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