I want to be the one to make the first move. To press my lips to Elijah’s with reckless abandon. He speeds the process up, but ultimately, I took that first step. His body envelopes mine like I was made to fit in his arms, all my curves filling into his hollows, and his lips warm and wanting as they press against mine.
I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, tracing the curve of his with my tongue, and he parts his mouth for me to explore. Kissing this man is different than kissing other guys I’ve known. I’ve kissed some that have made it feel like an eel was attempting to attack me. Not Elijah. Elijah thoroughly kisses me, savoring every moment that we’re connected before releasing my mouth with a soft pop.
He presses his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I give him a quick peck, resisting the urge to devour him again. To savor the flavor of the vodka from our drinks.
I don’t want to build a connection with someone right now—get attached and then leave. It’s my final year of school, and the logistics of a long-term relationship aren’t something I care to define. In the real world, Elijah and I might not have anything. But in this escape, we can have it all. Fleetingly.
He rises, pulling me to my feet, and I let him lead me through the door to his bedroom.
“We’re both mature adults.” I push against his chest, and he moves backward until the backs of his knees hit the foot of the California king bed.
He lies back, resting on his elbows. His eyes move over me with a hunger that matches my own. A hunger for escape.
“Consenting adults?” He quirks an eyebrow at me as I pull the sleeves of my romper off my shoulders and shimmy it to my ankles with a bravery I’ve never known before.
I prepared for this, intended for this to happen. Maybe fate could be real, and I manifested Elijah into existence.
“Consenting adults.” I straddle him on the bed, trailing my fingers across his well-defined clavicle, then up his neck to cradle his face in my hands.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and the thought that he’s changing his mind devastates me. The vulnerability of stripping before him, of climbing on his lap, hits me like a semitruck, and for a moment, the urge to flee fills me. Then he opens his eyes again, that dark, hooded hunger devouring me as his gaze travels over my simple white lace bra and panties.
“Having second thoughts?” I ask. Although, after that expression, there’s no doubt in my mind he isn’t.
“I’m praying for patience, beautiful Remy.” He nips my earlobe, and I shudder at the pleasing pain of his teeth sinking into me.
“Patience?”
He growls, teeth nipping my neck this time. “Patience to give you the pleasure I ache to without taking my own first.”
“You don’t have to handle me with care, Elijah.” I press my palms into his shoulders, pushing him into the duvet. “No one ever does.”
I bury my face in his neck, pressing kisses into his soft skin as I move down his body. His hands tangle in my hair, and I lift his shirt enough to reveal the button of his pants. In a split second, he flips me under him, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. When I reach for him, he gently pushes my hand away.
“Not yet,” he says. I pout, then scowl as he laughs at my expression. “We’re being patient today.”
“No, you’re being patient,” I counter, settling into the pillow. My hands slip under my bra. “I made no such promise.”
He watches as I caress myself in lazy circles, the cups of my bra slipping down to expose my nipples. His fingers are poised to flick one of my hardened peaks, and I push his hand away. “Oh, no, sir. We’re being patient.”
He mimics my pouty face from earlier, then flashes a smile at me before unbuttoning his pants. The zipper rips through the otherwise silent room, sending chills up my spine.
If there was any shyness left between us before, it’s all out the window now as Elijah drops the last of his clothing to the floor. He reaches for me, his strong hands gripping my waist with purpose before he pulls my panties down. “Fine. But next time we’ll be patient.”
The promise of a next time fans the flames in my belly.
Lying exposed on this man’s bed, who I’ve known for less than four hours, leaves me feeling freer than I’ve ever felt. I’m not the girl next door, or Lia’s best friend, or the dependable daughter that takes care of everything for her parents.
I’m a woman who knows what she wants and plans to get it.