by Jenika Snow
The fact he was acting so possessive of her this quickly should have made him feel uneasy, a little worried even. But all he felt was a deep-rooted need to protect her and keep her close, to make her realize he could give her everything she needed.
She moaned again and continued to grind her pussy on him. Shit, he felt her heat right through his pants.
She started to slow her grinding on him then finally collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily. Freya had her hands on his chest, her face in the crook of his neck, and panted. He held her close, and didn’t care that he was so hard his dick could rip right through his pants. Elijah just wanted to hold her.
Freya was his. He knew that more than anything else. He thought he knew that the moment he saw her standing there and looking nervous, shy, and vulnerable. Right now, he just wanted to make her feel good in every way possible because she was it for him.
She was the one.
Chapter Eleven
They’d arrived at the business event, and God, did Freya feel out of place. She stared at the incredible house she was in, or more accurately, the mansion. It was huge, three stories high and as wide as she could see. The event, from what Elijah had told her briefly, was about fundraising for a cervical cancer center. The wealthiest of men and women were at the event, and they hoped to raise enough that they’d be able to break ground by next year.
The decorations were extravagant and lavish, with crystal chandeliers, butlers in livery, soft classical music being played, and people dressed in gowns and tuxedos. It was like money dripped from the ceiling, and that was the biggest reason Freya felt like she didn’t belong. Her father may have had money, but he’d never gone to functions like this. He was modest in most ways, and she’d liked that kind of lifestyle.
She’d been here for the last half hour, with Elijah by her side the whole time. They were currently moving up the massively wide staircase, Elijah holding her hand, and a champagne glass in her other.
A young man dressed just as impressively as everyone else here, strikingly handsome, and who had a thick European accent, walked up to them and started speaking with Elijah. Freya stared at Elijah as he spoke with the man, and she couldn’t help but feel her body heat at the remembrance of what they’d shared in the limo. She thought about how he’d touched her, whispered filthy words to her, and the promise of what he could give her between the sheets. She wanted to leave the event now, go to his cabin, and just let him claim every part of her.
God, she needed to calm down or she’d end up embarrassing herself.
The upper level of the mansion looked like it had been cleared out for the event. Table and chairs dressed in crisp white linen now covered the flooring that was covered in thick, gold-hued plush carpet. There was a balcony lining the top of the landing, beautiful scroll worked wrought-iron bars that looked like they sparkled with crystals because of the lighting from the chandeliers.
It was a gorgeous atmosphere, and she felt lucky she was able to experience it, especially with Elijah.
Elijah moved closer to her, took her arm and slipped it in the crook of his. He placed his hand over hers, continuing to speak to the man about a merger. After about five minutes the men parted ways, but before they could move as well Elijah turned her in his arms and pulled her close. He tipped her head back with a finger under her chin, smiled down and her, and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was sweet, but arousing all in the same breath.
He broke away, breathed out harshly, as if he were having trouble with the act, and then led her over to one of the tables marked “Reserved” in elegant script. It had only been a few weeks they’d shared together, but they had been incredible weeks, ones she hoped she experienced more of with him.
He pulled out the chair for her, and she felt her face heat as she blushed. “Thank you,” she said, and took the offered seat. He leaned in and kissed the top of her head, and then took a seat beside her. More people came and sat at their table, and before too long waiters in black and white livery were setting plates of exquisite looking food in front of them.
They ate for the next half hour, the people at the table striking up conversation that was mainly about the fundraiser and not so much on a personal level. But Freya didn’t say much anyway, and just listened.
“Will you dance with me?” Elijah asked after they’d finished eating and had a glass of wine. His face was close to hers again, and his cologne swirling around her was intoxicating, drugging almost.
“No one has ever asked me to dance.” She swallowed back her embarrassment, but then chuckled when he cocked a brow, as if surprised. “I might humiliate you with my inexperience, and the fact I’ll be stepping on your toes the whole time,” she teased. Of course she could dance, but lightening up the atmosphere was fun, and she liked doing it with Elijah.
He brushed his thumb along her jawline. “As long as you’re the one stepping on my toes, I’d be the luckiest man to have you in my arms.”
God, where had this man come from?
He stood, held his hand out for her, and after she got her knees to stop shaking from her affection for Elijah, she slipped her open palm in his and stood. Elijah led her to the center of the open floor that was clearly for dancing, and as the soft classical music played around them, she let herself fully embrace it all.
But as she rested her head on his chest, let herself just slip into the wondrous embrace that Elijah provided, and was about to close her eyes, everything stilled in her. There, across from her and only a few feet away, was Meghan sitting at one of the tables. She was dressed in a gorgeous red gown, diamonds in her ears, around her neck, and covering her fingers. A man sat beside her, at least in his seventies, although looking good for his age. He also screamed wealth, which was the type of man Meghan went for.
“Oh my God,” Freya whispered, not meaning to say it out loud, but knowing she had when Elijah pulled back and looked down at her with confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
For a second she couldn’t speak, especially not when Meghan started laughing. She tilted her head back, the diamonds on her neck catching the light. And then she turned her head slightly, lifted her hand to get the waiter to notice her, and for a second their eyes locked on the other. Meghan blinked a few times, straightened, and realization covered her face.
“Freya, sweetheart?” Elijah turned and looked over his shoulder, and the shock on Meghan’s face when she saw the man Freya danced with was Elijah was like a slap to Freya’s face.
It was like time stood still, like neither could move or speak. Hell, they couldn’t even breathe. Then, because this wasn’t awkward enough, Meghan said something to the older man, stood, and started walking over to them.
“God, of course this is getting worse,” Freya whispered, and when she tried to move a step back from Elijah she was surprised that he kept her close to him.
“Fuck her, Freya.”
That had Freya smiling. Yeah, fuck Meghan. But that was easier thought and said than what their reality really was.
“Oh my God, I wasn’t sure if that was you two, but here you are, in the flesh,” Meghan’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice was as loud and clear as ever, and it reminded Freya of all the times she’d been in the house with her.
“Meghan,” Elijah said in a tight voice, but still kept Freya close to him.
Meghan stared at both of them for a few seconds, and then there was realization on her face.
“What the fuck?” Meghan said in a soft, but still screechy voice. “Are you two…” She let that hang in the air, and when Freya and Elijah didn’t deny anything, Meghan snorted, shook her head, and a look of disgust covered her face. “Is this what you two were doing when I wasn’t at home?” she looked pointedly at Elijah. “Were you fucking her while married to me?” Meghan raised her voice, and Freya noticed several people looking over at them.
“Keep your damn voice down,” Elijah said, and pulled Freya behind him. “And I’d never do that while I was married,
and to a teenager. You’re sick.”
Meghan crossed her arms over her chest, glared at both of them, and then shook her head again, as if she couldn’t believe any of this. “So then how did all this come about with you two?”
“It’s not your business.” Freya was the one to speak. She moved away from Elijah, knowing that she wasn’t that teenage girl that on a deeper level felt inferior to this woman.
“Wow, not the shy, timid little thing you were back in the day, are you?” Meghan said and smiled, but it was far from friendly.
“What Elijah and I do is none of your business. In fact, us breathing hasn’t been your business for over four years, Meghan.”
Meghan pursed her lips, and looked over Freya’s shoulder at Elijah. “Robbing cradles now, Elijah? I didn’t think that was your style.”
“Robbing graves, Meghan? That is so your style.” Freya pointedly looked at the elderly man Meghan had been sitting with, the one that screamed money. She also shouldn’t have stooped to Meghan’s level, but the bitch had this coming.
“Excuse me? So because you’re grown now and have Elijah at your back you think you can speak to me this way?” Meghan scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me staying with you after your dad died, forced to take care of his kid, you would have been homeless.”
Freya just stared at Meghan, and a part of her, a part that she really didn’t want to rise, couldn’t help but feel sorry for this woman. “I feel very sorry for you, I really do.”
Meghan’s eyes widened before they narrowed.
“You’re a lonely woman, and always will be. The fact that you look for love in the wrong places, in the places that are covered in dollar bills, makes me feel so incredibly sad for you, Meghan. One day you’ll have nothing but the money you so desperately needed in your life surrounding you. You’ll have no one, Meghan, because no one will love you.” Freya turned and looked at Elijah. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready to go.”
“You uppity little girl,” Meghan ground out. “How dare you speak to me that way, and how dare you just stand by and let this … child—”
“Meghan, marrying you was the worst mistake I ever made, and staying with you all those years was like a hell all in itself,” Elijah said, this thickness in his voice clear. “And when that divorce was final, I swear this weight was lifted off of my shoulders, and this freedom filled me. I didn’t think I’d ever have that kind of pleasure fill my life again.”
Meghan made an outraged gasp, but Freya was too stunned by what Elijah said to pay attention to her.
“But then I saw Freya again.” He pulled Freya close to him and wrapped his hand possessively around her waist. “And I realized that the greatest feeling wasn’t when I got that divorce from you finalized, but when I realized I loved Freya.”
And the world turned upside down, the earth opened up, and she knew if Elijah wasn’t holding her she’d fall right in. The way he sounded told her he spoke the truth.
“But the past doesn’t matter anymore, Meghan, because I’m looking forward to my future, and that future is with Freya.” And then Elijah turned, and he and Freya walked away from a stuttering Meghan, out of the mansion, and into the waiting limo. She knew, just knew, at that moment that this was the man she’d be with, that this was the man she wanted to be with. She loved him, and she hadn’t realized how much until this very moment.
Chapter Twelve
They’d made it to the cabin in about two hours, and that entire time as the driver took them out of the city and toward isolation, all Freya did was lean against Elijah. But Elijah had loved it, loved that she curled into him, loved that he could wrap his arm around her and just hold her.
They now stood in the center of the cabin, their bags on the ground, fire already roaring, and both of them staring at each other.
“Does it scare you that I said I love you?” he asked, not sure how she would react to him mentioning it again. She hadn’t said anything about it on the ride up here, and a part of him worried about that.
She didn’t answer right away, and instead moved over to the fire. For several seconds she watched the flames move along the logs, the gown she wore seeming almost black in color because of the shadows. Finally she turned and faced him. “No, it doesn’t scare me, Elijah, because I am falling in love with you.”
His heart started beating fast and hard, and all he wanted to do was be with her in every fucking way conceivable. This entire situation was confusing, he admitted that, but Elijah wasn’t going to turn his back on how he felt, or what he wanted with Freya. He could see them together, her by his side, and he wanted that, desperately. That was what scared him the most, the intensity with which he wanted this woman.
Elijah was done being alone, done with the random women that couldn’t fill the void in his heart. Maybe a part of him had separated when he left Meghan, a part that didn’t think he could ever be happy. The truth was his ex-wife hadn’t made him feel this kind of pleasure deep in his soul, not the way Freya did. She was everything to him, he knew that with every part of him, and he was going to make sure she knew that, too.
****
“Come here, Freya.” His voice was low, hoarse, and there was a touch of dominance in it.
He might have been a kind of stepparent—sort of—to her all those years ago, but really she never saw him as that. He’d lived in the house she did, ate breakfast at the same table she did, but she didn’t see him as this parental figure, as this father figure. Maybe a part of her would have liked to, but only because she’d been missing her own dad so much. But even if at some point, at some level she kind of felt as if this was wrong, a little taboo, and most definitely tested given their background, she couldn’t lie and say that she hadn’t always felt safe around Elijah.
But after they’d left the event she’d just leaned against him, let him hold her, and it had felt so right. Being with him felt right. Freya didn’t want to let that go, didn’t want to lose that.
He was so much older than she was, so much wiser, more experienced. He didn’t look at her as this teenager anymore, as this damaged girl. He was looking at her like he wanted to see her naked, like he wanted to devour her whole. And God, did she want that, especially right now.
All she could think about was him telling Meghan he loved her. And then she’d admitted she was falling in love with him, too. Each day those feelings became stronger, harder to try to ignore.
“Come here.”
All she could focus on was the way his mouth moved as he said those two words.
She licked her lips and moved that last bit of space it took to almost have their chests brushing together.
This is crazy.
But it feels so good.
He reached out and cupped her waist with one hand, and covered one side of her face with the other. The scent of him was intense, intoxicating. He wore the tux still, and damn did he make it look good. His short dark hair was styled like he was ready to tackle the boardroom, and the scent of him, good God, the scent of him, that mixture of cologne and masculinity absolutely drove her insane with lust.
He held her cheek in a tight, almost painful grip. It was like he was afraid she would turn and leave. But she had no intentions of doing that, not when she felt this life move through her when he touched her.
“I love you,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She swallowed, her heart beating hard and almost painfully in her chest. “I love you, too,” she whispered.
He brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek.
Back and forth, back and forth.
All Elijah did was look into her eyes. God, his eyes were so green, so clear. She felt herself falling into them, getting lost in the color, in the deepness of them. Freya felt herself leaning forward, felt his warm and sweet wine smelling breath brush along her lips.
Here she was, standing in this elegant evening gown, wanting the damn thing ripped off of her. They were in this gorgeous cabin, out in the middle of nowh
ere, and alone. And right now, to her, this felt good, this felt right. She didn’t want to stop this, didn’t care that he used to be her family, technically, or that he was over a decade older than she was.
Freya didn’t care that if her father was still alive he might look down on her doing something like this. But as soon as that thought passed through her mind she knew her father would never have looked down on anything she did. He’d always been so supportive, so understanding. And he would have been of this, too, as long as she was happy.
Freya didn’t know if Elijah would kiss her, but she wanted him to, desperately. She saw the way he kept looking at her lips, felt the way he kept stroking her cheek with his thumb. When he leaned in she thought he’d kiss her, and end this torment of arousal and need she had burning inside of her, but he didn’t.
Instead he moved the hand that held her face to the back of her head. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, tightened his hold on the strands until the pain mixed with her already climbing and repressed pleasure, and then broke free into this explosive tingling sensation along her entire body.
“A part of me sees this as wrong on some level,” he murmured, staring at her lips. “But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop, Freya. I love you, so fucking much, and I won’t deny it.”
She breathed out harshly.
“I just want to get lost in you, to forget about that time we lived in the same house, and dealt with a woman that wasn’t meant to be in our lives.”
She licked her lips, knowing he was right, and not caring or wanting to stop either.
“You have no idea how much I want you right now, how I felt when I first saw you after all these years.”
She held her breath, looked into his green eyes, and felt her heart skip a beat.
“I felt like I was looking into something I’d been missing, if that even makes sense.”
She nodded. “It makes perfect sense, Elijah.” She’d felt this recognition and electricity move through her when she’d seen him, a feeling of comfort that had nothing to do with already knowing him. He’d been in a suit, looking so good, so smart and sophisticated. He’d looked so powerful and controlled, and something in her had woken up. It had been uncomfortable, but also pleasing, in a way.