by Lila Price
His thumb is still busy, circling, driving me wild. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you out by the pool this morning. I imagined what it’d be like to slip into you, to fuck you until you came for me again and again.”
Oh.
One of my hands is still pressed against his chest, even as he keeps stroking me slowly, softly.
“You wanted someone wholesome to ‘marry,’” I protest weakly. “This isn’t a very wholesome position, here in the hallway. You should stop.”
“Should I?”
No. God no.
Idly, I wonder if anyone has already come into the hallway and seen us, if they’ve left us to our private, erotic moment. But I can’t say that I care as Eli keeps stroking me, turning my knees to cherry jelly, threatening to make me slide down the wall until I hit the floor in a quivering mass of lust. But then…
Then, out of nowhere, Eli pulls my strap back up to cover my breast, and disappointment bolts through me. But as he slides his hand down my ribs, then over my back, I get excited again. My sex is swollen, slick with the want of him.
“You’re right about keeping this wholesome in public,” he says in my ear. “I guess I should be more discreet, even if I do want to see more than your hot, gorgeous tits. And I can just imagine what your pussy’s like—juicy, and as hot as everything else about you.”
Me. Hot…
He kisses my earlobe, and a flash of desire makes me stand on my tiptoes again. I should know by now that Eli’s easily encouraged as he slips his hand under my ass to bring me all the way against his groin. He’s also easily hard. I can feel the tip of him through his jeans.
Something like innocent panic grips me, reminding me that this can’t go anywhere. Run, run away as fast as you can. But his fingers are playing their way underneath the back of my panties, over my cheek, and the naughty-but-nice sensation urges me to wiggle against his erection.
With a harsh groan, he scoops me up, crushing his mouth to mine, cutting off my breathing. My pulse spins, making me so dizzy that I can’t think, can only grasp at his T-shirt in a desperate attempt to…
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I only want this, him, more and more and more of him.
He buries his fingers in my hair, pulling it out of its clip, our kiss sloppy and wet and wonderful. I’m pushing my hips against him, loving the feel of his dick against me, getting off on how the head of him pushes against my most private spot.
The pressure keeps gathering in my belly, and I almost feel like I could fly, freed from my old life, dazed by his kisses.
As he languidly slips his tongue past my lips, one of my hands lifts in the air, suspended. All of me is suspended as he kisses me deeply, his fingers caressing my rear end under my panties, skin to skin. Then, as he spreads his fingers to the inside of my thigh, I moan. He’s getting really close to my…
Sucking off of my lower lip, Eli laughs against my mouth. “You’ve gotten tense, Jenna.”
That’s because you’re about to go where only a couple men’s fingers have gone before. And there’s been nothing more than fingers there, either…
He nips at my lower lip. “I suppose it wouldn’t be wholesome to do what I’m thinking of doing to you right here, would it?”
He doesn’t have to say what he wants to do. But I want him to, for better or worse, even if I never see him again. I want this to finally happen to me, with him, proposal or not. Even the thought of him finger banging me makes me hotter and wetter than ever. My clit is screaming for him to do it.
He tightens his grip in my loosened hair and brings my head back slightly, looking into my eyes. He doesn’t look so playful now. No, there’s that darkness in him again, shadows that come and go.
Tick, tick…tick…
Then…then suddenly there’s nothing in his eyes. Just a cool blankness. I can see that he’s made some kind of abrupt decision that goes against his sexual needs, and I’m not sure why. Did he suddenly realize that I’m not in his league? Or is he serious about this “wholesome” thing?
He lets me slip down his hard body until my feet hit the floor, then steps back from me, removing his fingers from the bottom of my panties. My body gives one final tick…, fading into muffled pulses of aching disappointment.
He actually looks serious, and for a moment, there’s a connection between us that goes beyond lust or business proposals. It’s almost as if…
No, I have no idea, but I think he’s just as uncomfortable with what’s between us as I am.
“When will I see you again?” he asks.
He is serious about this. “Eli, I told you. I’m not interested in bargaining. This deal isn’t for me.”
At least, that’s what I thought before I came into the hallway.
“You can go ahead and turn down the deal.” There’s that persuasive superstar grin now, the look of a man who isn’t going to be denied. “But I’m definitely going to see more of you, Jenna. And when we’re finally together, engaged or not, it’s going to blow both our minds.”
And that’s how he leaves me, deserting me in the blushing hallway, the tick-tick-tick starting up in me again while I watch him go.
Chapter 6
By the time I adjust my hair and clothing then take a really long breather, Eli has already paid the check. The valet has even brought the Ferrari around to the VIP entrance so there isn’t much more to do than say goodbye to the strangest date of my life since there’s no way I’m hopping into the car after our hallway rendezvous. My libido is still revved up, and it’d probably be enough to power me home if I didn’t live three bus rides away.
After the valet waits for me to get into the car and I refuse him, Eli tips him, then jerks his chin at me from the driver’s side. “Why aren’t you getting in?”
“I’m taking the bus. Saving gas, carpooling—I’m all about working for a better world.” Honestly, I also don’t want Eli to see the small, cramped apartment I live in with Mom, Dad, and my sister. I’m twenty-two, a virgin, and a loser who still lives with her parents, even though there’re extenuating circumstances. To avoid that truth, I’m even willing to walk to the nearest bus stop in this last-gasp-of-summer heat to keep Eli from seeing how much I really could use that proposal money.
“Carpooling, huh?” he asks. “You do realize that you’d be doing that exact thing with me if you just got your adorable ass in here.” He gets inside his luxury vehicle.
It doesn’t occur to me that I can just start walking and leave him behind. Nooo, my body is still humming for him, and I really do want one last ride. Even with as pathetic as that is, I find myself climbing in. Maybe I’ll give him directions to somewhere close to my home and walk the rest of the way. Yeah, that’ll work.
I tell him to hit the 215 toward Henderson, and without even a mention of what happened between us in that hallway, off we go. The only souvenir I have of our time at the Hula Shack is the food he asked the waiter to pack up for me, and I hold on tight to the carton. There’s enough in here for Mom’s dinner tonight.
As the air conditioning keeps me cool, Eli drives us past the casino billboards that line the freeway, and I wish that he would just put on some music. The silence is killing me, so that’s why my mouth moves before my brain—and pride—can catch up.
“Just so you know, I’m not an easy girl.”
A beat passes, then he wryly says, “I’ve definitely had easier.”
“And, even if you’re going to make one last-ditch effort to talk me into ‘hearing you out’ about the fiancé thing, there’s absolutely no chance I’ll do something that makes me into an object. I’m worth much more than that.”
“You have yet to name a price.”
“Maybe I’m the one person you’ve met who doesn’t have a price.”
Before he can see the telltale flush on my face—the one that tells him all over again how much my family could use an infusion of cash—he sends me an intrigued smile. Good God, I’m only encouraging him. The great Eli Brennan i
s so used to getting what he wants that I doubt he’s ever considered the consequences of anything he’s done in his life.
I direct him to a part of the suburbs that used to be upscale-middle-class nice, but it’s gotten somewhat rundown in recent years. The rent is affordable enough for the Collins brood, but lately, graffiti has started to pop up on the neighborhood walls. I wish…
Sigh. No more wishing today.
A part of me is still sighing as I have Eli drop me off in front of a condo community that’s well kept and tidy; it’s only a few blocks from where I live, and I can pretend I’m walking into this complex until he drives off and out of my life.
“This is good,” I say as he pulls along the desert-landscaped curb outside and stops the car.
“You sure I can’t walk you to your door? Meet the parents?” That evil twinkle is in his light blue eyes again.
“Drop it, Eli.”
I start to open my door, but he’s already out of his, coming around the hood of the Ferrari that’s drawing stares from an elderly couple strolling down the sidewalk. He opens my door, and I can’t help but be flattered by his continued attentions.
As I get out and stand in front of him, I have to look up to meet his gaze. I’m a tall girl, but he’s still a good head and shoulders above me. My heartbeat flails at his sheer physical presence, and I remember what happened in that hallway.
Fingertips trailing over my skin, a blouse strap whispering down my arm, slow, deep kisses…
Phew. “Well, thanks for everything.”
As the older couple walks by, they recognize Eli. The man begins to say something until the woman nudges him with her lips pursed in disapproval. Eli pretends not to see her reaction, but I can tell he notices. That shadow is in his eyes again, even though it fades quickly away.
“There’s just one more thing before you go, Jenna,” Eli says quietly.
What’s he going to talk me into now? I clutch the food carton from the Hula Shack and count the seconds.
He holds up his phone. “Just a picture, for old times’ sake?”
“We barely even had new times.”
“Come on, sweet Cinderella.”
I don’t have any time to roll my eyes at the nickname before he reaches out, grabbing the bottom of my blouse, just as he did this morning when he toyed with me and my T-shirt. He pulls me in like the catch of the day, but we both know that this is the end—he hasn’t hooked me into anything.
I’ve beaten the pro at his own game.
That hardly makes me feel better though. As he hugs me to his side and snaps a selfie of the two of us, I blink away the surprise at how quickly he was able to put me in any position he wanted. Then, as I realize that he’s still holding onto the bottom of my blouse, his fingers so close to my stomach that it’s tumbling, I wallow in this last moment of a day I’ll never forget.
I wish…
“See you around,” he says as he lets go of me, only to lift his hand and tweak my chin.
Yup, arrogant, as if he’s so sure we’ll be in contact soon.
“Very funny, Eli.”
“I told you before—none of this is a joke.”
I squirm away before he can try to reel me in again, but as I walk into the condo complex, I realize that he’s gotten into his car and hasn’t gone anywhere. That’s because he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, typing something into his phone. After he puts it down, he sees me lingering and gives me a cocky jerk of his chin again before taking off.
It’s only after he’s gone and I walk the few blocks to my apartment building that I discover why he was able to let go of me so easily.
The first text from one of my friends, Dolly, comes through as I’m lying back in bed. I’ve just finished saying hi to Mom, who’s propped up against some pillows in her chair in front of the TV, and I need five minutes to myself before I start family time.
Dolly
Holy shit, Jenna. I was just coming back from an
exam in Psych 101 when I saw. Why didn’t you tell me?
And there’s more than that—and one message is from my sixteen-year-old sister Ivy, who’s currently waitressing at a nearby Italian joint when she’s not helping my dad with keeping the books for our business.
Ivy
How? When? Where? HOW?
She’s the one I text back immediately.
Jenna
What are you talking about?
She sends back one link to Twitter and one to Instagram, then one word.
Ivy
Duh.
And that’s exactly how I feel when I see what she’s sent me. Duh. Because I should’ve known Eli was up to something with that selfie.
I stare at the picture of him and me on my phone screen, but that’s not all there is. Nope, he’s written a cute little caption to go along with his million-dollar smile and my wide, innocent camera-flash eyes.
When love hits, it’s like a flying tackle from a Pro Bowl cornerback!
Oh. My. God.
Minutes tick by and I can see the responses and comments below the Twitter pic growing at the speed of light.
Then, to my horror, I find that the tweet is here and there and everywhere. TMZ already has it up on their site. So do sports blogs. It’s even trending. #BrennanInLove #WhoIsCrazyEnoughForEli
I want to throttle him for this viral sensation, for making me into a mystery girl who’s suddenly in a relationship with an insane bad boy. But that’s what Eli had in mind when he took that selfie then posted it even before he pulled his car away from the curb.
Asshole.
Dickbag.
I log onto my ancient but adequate computer and madly surf around. Eli’s currently tweeting and blogging and freakin’ baiting the media, and the bloggers and voyeurs of the world are eating it up.
He’s not letting go of this fake fiancé idea. In fact, he’s getting off on it.
I impulsively start to tweet back at him, but then I take a deep breath. Think this through, Jenna. Be a smart girl. Don’t give the public more than they’re already getting.
So I follow his Twitter and Instagram accounts instead. Then, while I wait to see if he notices, I tap the scratched surface of my desk, hoping I can do some damage control.
When his private message pops up, I don’t know whether to be relieved or doubly pissed at him.
Him: I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me.
Me: I want to shove a football down your throat. What the hell are you doing?
Him: What’s your number? I’ve got a plan.
A plan. I’m sure the wild, reckless side of him that’s loving this does have some sort of dumbass strategy. And since I’m dying to read him the riot act—and since I can always block him after I’m done shouting—I give him my number.
Seconds later, the phone rings.
I answer. “I told you that I’m not interested. And then you did this, without my permission.”
“Jenna.” His tone is controlled, almost as if he’s got ice in his veins while he’s about to bring his team downfield to score. “It’s already working. The last time the media gave me positive attention like this was when I was drafted.”
“Was that before your scandals got more insane? Before you became even more of a jackoff?”
“Jenna.”
I wish he wouldn’t say my name like that. It’s all cream and dark honey, dripping down my skin. It feels as if he’s spreading it all over me, over my belly, between my legs, making me sticky with wanting him.
Damn him.
“You’re not going to persuade me, Eli. I already told you that.”
“Not even after what happened in the hallway?”
“That was a mistake.”
“A mistake is when you get caught with some ganja in your pocket by your coach. A mistake is when you don’t do a good enough job of covering your tracks when you try to show your boys a good time by booking some escorts for a bachelor party. What we did this afternoon wasn’t a mistake.”
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If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Eli is using this as an excuse to pursue me, come hell or high water. But why me? Why is his mind so made up when there’re thousands of girls out there who’d jump at the chance for him?
I try to be reasonable, but my pulse is out of control, knocking at my temples and clouding my thinking. “Take down that picture now.”
“The kitty’s already out of the bag, wouldn’t you say?”
“And you’re out of your mind.”
He grows silent, and I know I’ve gone too far. With all the impulsive fights he’s been in and all the antics he’s instigated, the media calls him a head case, and that’s what I just did, too.
“I didn’t mean that,” I say.
After another heavy second, his tone takes on the same naughtiness as before. “But you’re right. I am crazy. You drive me crazy.”
I grip my phone, because if his body told me anything today, it was the truth. I truly do something for Eli Brennan. I don’t know how or why, but I can’t deny it.
Heaven help me, I also can’t deny that he does it for me, too.
Chapter 7
Fifteen minutes after I hang up on Eli, he still hasn’t deleted that picture. I actually have to turn off my phone because it’s continually dinging with all the texts coming through. And I can’t stay on the computer either because, with every news site I go to, there he is. There we are: The headline-grabbing wide receiver and his wholesome girl, so in love, just as All-American as vanilla ice cream on apple pie.
After Dad knocks on my door, I brace myself, because surely my little sister has texted him about this crap. I drag myself across my small bedroom to crack open the door; I’m not sure what I expect to see from my dad other than his prematurely graying hair and the tired wrinkles around his eyes, but even with those qualities, there’s always a spark to him, always a bit of we-can-make-it-through hope to his smiles.
What I find instead makes me open the door all the way.
His eyes are bloodshot, and his shoulders are hunched.
“Dad?” I ask.
“Ivy told me,” he says in a voice that’s thoroughly beaten down. Is it because he can’t stand the thought of his daughter getting involved with the Eli Brennan? Indeed, most fathers would probably get out their shotguns to chase someone like my misguided, so-called lover away, so I can’t blame him.