by Heller, JB
“What is this called again?” I ask Elijah, who seems to be enjoying it as much as me.
Wiping a dribble of soup off his chin, he smiles. “Umm, Lost in Austen. My mum was an Austen fan, and she had quite the collection by the time she passed.” Pausing, he takes a deep breath, the mention of his mother’s death clearly still upsetting him. With a small shake of his head, he brings his focus back to me. “It’s one of the things I couldn’t get rid of. Just like her bone china teacups and the hundred or so silver spoons she collected over the years.”
My eyes light up. “I’d love to see them all someday. Jane is the original independent woman; she’s always been an idol of mine. Although I don’t have a collection or anything.”
“Of course,” he replies. “Mum used to put these movies on when we stayed home sick from school. I think it was her way of making sure we were actually sick, not just dicking around to get out of handing in math homework or something. Because what twelve-year-old boy wants to watch Sense and Sensibility followed by Emma when they could be faking sick and playing with their Star Wars figurines instead?”
His eyes cast down as he finishes speaking, but I want to hear more. I hit pause on the remote then turn to face him. “Sounds like she had some pretty solid logic behind that theory.”
He nods. “Yeah, but it backfired. We never admitted it to her, but after a while, we kind of liked those movies.” He laughs, then takes my empty bowl. “You want seconds?”
“No, thanks. It was really good—and filling, too. But I want to leave room for dessert.” My eyes land on the unopened box of sugary sweets from McKenna.
Elijah follows my line of sight. “Ah, good thinking. I’ll just go put these up. You can keep watching; I’ve seen this before. It’s about to get to the part where she tells Mr. Bennet she’s into girls.”
My eyes widen. “No!”
He nods. “Yes!” He grins, then takes our dirty dishes to the kitchen.
I’m leaning forward to grab the remote off the ottoman when I notice a piece of cardboard sticking out from under my box of goodies. My curiosity is piqued by the words written in a speech bubble in the corner: You shall not pass!
Sliding it out, a full comic-style drawing comes into view. I tilt my head, trying to decipher what exactly I’m seeing, when it’s snatched from my grasp.
Elijah is standing in front of me, holding the drawing behind his back, hiding it from me. I frown.
“Hey, I was looking at that!” I growl, trying to peer around him.
“It’s nothing.” He looks slightly alarmed, which makes me even more interested.
“Show me.”
“No,” he snaps.
I get to my feet and attempt to take it from him, but he holds it above his head. I climb onto the couch, steady myself with one hand on his super-firm shoulder, and go for it. But he outmanoeuvres me, throwing the drawing to the other side of the room, then wrapping his arms around my thighs like thick metal bands.
He steps up to the couch, bringing our bodies flush. With me standing on the edge, it brings him chin level with my boobs. My unrestrained boobs. I swallow as his eyes scan my face, lingering on my parted lips.
“Elijah,” I murmur.
“It’s okay, Charlotte. I don’t expect anything. Especially when you’re not feeling well, baby. Just let me hold you. I’ll be more than content with that.”
His words are spoken softly and with sincerity. His breath warms the column of my throat, and I desperately want him to touch me.
I used to wonder how I could go from battling demons from hell intent on making a massacre of my nether region, to wanting a man in just hours … but I stopped questioning it a long time ago.
Truth is, every woman is different. Some women can’t ever have sex without being in excruciating pain. Some are good to go sometimes, but not others. There is no method to the madness that inhabits our bodies. It affects us all differently.
I’ve always had a strong sex drive. And while the act itself isn’t painful for me, there are times afterwards when I wish I’d abstained. Times when, as soon as the glorious afterglow of an epic orgasm fades away, I curl in a ball, about ready to throw up I’m in so much pain.
But that’s not how it always goes. It’s about a seventy-thirty split in my favour. So, I take the risk.
Keeping my eyes on Elijah’s, I push up on my tippy-toes. “You might be content with that, but I won’t be.”
A storm rages in his beautiful blue eyes. “Not like this. Not when you’re hurting.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Eli.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and I moan as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth. His arms unbind from my thighs so his hands can roam over my body, stopping to squeeze my butt, then continuing their upward journey. The second he reaches the collar of my T, he tugs it down, exposing my bare breast.
I shudder as he sucks my peaked nipple into his hot, wet mouth. So good. It feels so freaking good. His free hand slides up the back of my shirt, and he runs his calloused palm over my sensitive skin.
Digging my fingers into his hair, I groan as he releases my nipple with a pop, then claims my mouth again. His tongue teases mine with little flicks and licks, driving me crazy. I can feel the press of his erection on my thigh, and I reach down to cup him through his jeans.
Jesus, he’s so hard. I give him a gentle squeeze, and he pulls away from my mouth, leaving both of us panting. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I won’t take you tonight, Charlotte.”
I swallow, disappointed, and maybe even a little hurt, by his rejection. “Wh-why not?”
“Because I want you so fucking bad I don’t think I’ll be able to take my time the way I really want to with you. And you haven’t been well, baby. I’m not an animal. Even though you say you’re good to go, I can’t do that to you. You need to rest. Let me take care of you.”
“Oh.” That’s all I’ve got, all I can say, as he runs his hand up and down my arms, comforting me. I drop my gaze, looking at the couch beneath my feet.
One of Elijah’s big hands slides up over my shoulder, glides across my collarbone, then gently clasps my chin. “Look at me,” he coaxes, his voice smooth and confident.
I bring my eyes to his.
“I said I’m not taking you. I didn’t say anything about fooling around. You weren’t wrong when you guessed it’s been a while for me. I’m more than happy to spend some quality time polishing up on some old skills that have been out of action for far too long.” His smirk is salacious, and naughty, and so freaking hot. I want to lick his face.
“Yes, please,” I practically wheeze. I’m so turned on. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grin. “You know where my bedroom is. What are you waiting for?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, tightening my hold under Charlotte’s fine arse and stalking off towards her bedroom.
Her fingers run through my hair as I walk, and it feels a-fucking-mazing. A quiver skates down my spine. Approaching her bed, I lay her down gently, following after her until she’s caged beneath me. I’ve imagined this view of her for weeks, but the reality is so much better.
“You’re crazy beautiful,” I tell her. I can’t not tell her.
She smiles shyly. “You’re not so bad yourself, Eli.”
It’s the second time she’s called me Eli, and I really fucking like it. I want to be Eli to her. Eli is the fun, easy-going guy I slip into being so easily when I’m talking to Charlotte. Elijah is always serious, always responsible, always thinking of others’ needs before his own.
But when I’m with her, it’s easy to focus on me and what I want. Because what I want is right in front of me.
I can’t keep my hands off her any longer. Gliding my fingers into her hair, I let the silky tresses slide between them as I lean down to kiss her. The soft press of her plump lips against mine is intoxicating, and I lose myself in the sweetness of her tongue caressing my own.
Kissing my way down her neck, I graze my teeth ove
r her collarbone through her loose, white T-shirt. She squirms as I go lower, making my way down between the valley of her breasts. Bunching her shirt in my fists, I tug it up and over her head so I can run my nose down her bare, smooth stomach.
She smells like the lavender from her bath earlier, and I close my eyes, pausing to inhale her fresh, clean scent. Kissing my way to the band of her pants, I lift my gaze to her, making sure she’s all right with this. Lust glazes her hazel eyes, and that perfect bottom lip is caught between her teeth.
I tug her pants and underwear down her legs until she’s free of them. A faint yellow bruise still mars her flesh, and I bend down, kissing the spot tenderly.
Charlotte’s back bows off the bed as my mouth glides down farther and my tongue parts her folds. She moans when I graze her clit but pass by it quickly.
“Eli,” she whines, digging her small hands into my hair, holding me in place then spreading her legs wider for me.
I run my hands up and down her thighs, loving the feel of her skin against my palms. I work her with my tongue, muscle memory kicking in, reminding me just what to do to make this good for her.
She squirms and pants, making my dick throb harder in my jeans. But this isn’t about me; this is all about her. I want nothing more than to make her feel good.
“Eli, I’m close, so close …”
“I know, baby, I know. But you taste so good. I’m going to be here for a while,” I murmur against her mound.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes as I insert one finger inside her opening and graze my teeth over her swollen little clit.
I plant open-mouthed kisses all over her pretty pussy. I bring her to the brink, sucking on her lips, sliding my finger in and out of her warmth in long, slow strokes. Her body trembles and quakes as she comes for me, and it’s spectacular.
Flattening my tongue, I lave at her sweet juices, drinking her up. “You taste so good, baby, so fucking good,” I hum against her sensitive flesh as tremors wrack her body.
When she finally stills, I kiss my way up her belly again, pausing to suckle on her tight pink nipples, one at a time. Her shoulders draw back, pushing her breasts higher, and I bury my face in them. I tweak her left nipple hard while sucking gently on her right.
Her head thrashes from side to side. “Eli,” she mewls.
Can I make her come like this? Just playing with her tits? My question is answered a moment later when Charlotte cries out, her body twitching and jerking in pleasure. And damn, if that doesn’t make me feel like a fucking superstar.
Pressing light kisses over her tattooed collarbone, I then nuzzle my nose into her neck. She sighs softly, her fingernails skating over my back as her body goes lax beneath me.
“Sleep now, baby,” I whisper in her ear as her eyelids flutter.
She gives the slightest nod, then her head lolls to the side, sleep taking her.
I tuck her in and go into her bathroom to take care of my raging hard-on before returning to her bed. After climbing in next to her, I roll on my side and tug her body into mine, and we spoon like we did on the couch this afternoon.
It doesn’t take long for sleep to drag me under. I’ve had a hell of a long day, a good pull, and now I’ve got a beautiful woman in my arms. Perfection.
* * *
The next morning, I make us breakfast in Charlotte’s fancy kitchen. I prefer mine; everything is right where it should be. This kitchen is a disaster. Nothing makes sense. Cups and bowls are in the same cabinet, but plates and glasses are in another. Who organised this place?
I’m rummaging around for a spatula when Charlotte’s arms wrap around me from behind.
“Morning,” she murmurs into my back.
Turning to face her, I rest my forearms on her shoulders. “It would be if I could find anything in this place,” I tell her with a teasing grin.
She drops her head to my chest and chuckles. “I don’t cook. I’m surprised you even found a frying pan in here.”
“Right, well I’ll just have to get you some of the basics then. How are you supposed to cook for me without the proper utensils?”
Slowly, she raises her head, then arches a brow at me. “You are with the wrong woman if you think I’m going to cook for you, buddy.”
I smile and shrug. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll train you up real good.” Then I wink, slap her arse, and untangle myself from her so I can find something to stir the eggs currently scrambling on the stove.
“Train me?” she yelps. “You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think—”
I cut off her rant with a kiss. When I pull back, she’s glaring at me, and I roll my eyes. “I’m just messing with you, cranky pants. Jeez, anyone would think you didn’t have two earth-shattering orgasms last night.”
Her mouth pops open in a perfect O, then slams shut again. “I never thought I’d say it, but there it is … you’re an arsehole,” she quips.
Waggling my brows, I bend down and kiss her again. “But I’m an arsehole who cooks and cleans and gives really good head.”
I smirk and she grins.
“You’ve got me there. I guess I can put up with your arsehole-ish tendencies if I get to reap all the other benefits,” she says with a dramatic sigh, then presses up on her tiptoes and offers me her lips for another kiss.
Watching Eli strut around my kitchen in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans while he cooks me breakfast is the best porn I have ever seen.
My gaze fixates on the dimples on either side of his spine just above the waistband of his pants. I want to lick them. Then, my eyes travel higher, to his muscular shoulders and his thick biceps, down to his amazing forearms. I swallow down the lust clawing at my insides.
Unfortunately, lust isn’t the only thing I’m feeling this morning. Lilith is going to make an appearance; I can feel the slight twinges deep in my pelvis, letting me know she’s awake. There will be no sexy times for me today.
Flashes of last night flicker behind my eyelids, and I sigh happily. I’m so glad Eli didn’t take me up on my offer to have sex. I’d be in a world of hurt already if we’d done the deed. That, and what he gave me instead was incredible. He was so attentive. Every little touch meant something.
I feel kind of bad that I didn’t return the favour, though. Clearing my throat to get his attention, I say, “About last night—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you still don’t want to date me. That’s not what last night was about. I just wanted to make you feel good for a little while. You don’t owe me anything in return. I don’t expect you to suddenly be all for a relationship with me. But I will be around, Charlotte. I’m not going anywhere.”
I blink at him dumbly. “Oh,” is all I manage to say in response.
“If you want me to keep my hands to myself for a while, I’ll try. Can’t make any promises, but I will try. I can wait until you’re ready for more. Your disease doesn’t scare me. Not having your smiling face and smart mouth in my life does.” He says this last part with his brilliant blue eyes locked on mine, leaving no room for misinterpretation. I can’t stop the smile that takes over my face as his words, his promise, settle in my heart.
* * *
I’m lounging on the couch, devouring the best chocolate croissant I’ve ever eaten when the paper from last night catches my eyes. I listen to make sure Eli is still in the shower then scuttle off the couch and snatch it up.
A loud snort rips from my nose as I take in exactly what it is I’m looking at.
It’s a cartoon—a cartoon of a uterus, a little stick-figure maiden inside, wielding a sword at the exit. The words in the speech bubble above leave me laughing hysterically.
“You shall not pass!” the little warrior declares.
Riotous endometrial tissue sneers at her. A text box below states “They did indeed pass, infecting and embedding themselves in the brave warrior princess’s body. But fear not, her Prince Charming is on his way to nurse her back to health.”
Tears of laughte
r streak down my cheeks, dripping off my chin.
Eli appears at my side, wearing nothing but a towel and pink-stained cheeks.
“Did you draw this?” I ask.
His eyes dart to the cartoon clutched in my hands, then back to my face. He sighs as his blush coats his whole throat. “Yes,” he mutters.
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tightly. “I love it. And I’m framing it. Don’t even try to stop me.”
THREE MONTHS LATER …
“You want me to take off my shirt and stand next to my tractor?”
Charlotte nods enthusiastically. She’s been spending more and more time out at the farm with me the last couple of weeks, and she just discovered the tractor.
“Uh, hell yes, I do. Now get that disgrace to fashion off your sexy body and strike a pose,” she says.
I shake my head, grinning. “You think my tractor’s sexy.”
She sighs. She does that a lot. “Not on its own, but you all bare-chested and manly next to it? Now that’s sexy.”
“Whatever. You think my tractor’s sexy.” Then I start singing the Kenny Chesney song as I remove my shirt. “She thinks my tractor’s sexy, it really turns her on. She’s always starin’ at me, while I’m chuggin’ along …”
Charlotte’s lips part, and her eyes eat me up. “Oh my God. He cooks, he cleans, he eats me like a champ, and he can sing.” She puts her phone down on the work bench behind her without taking her eyes off me, then struts across the space separating us.
The second she’s close enough, I tug her into me. Her hands slide down my shoulders, and she squeezes my biceps. She has a thing for my arms. “Hey, baby,” I breathe against her open mouth.
She licks her lips then presses up on her tiptoes. “Shut up and kiss me, Eli.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I take her mouth in a searing kiss. She’s so into it she’s moaning already. My hands cup her arse cheeks, and I push my hips into hers, showing her how ready I am for her.