Page 28 of Elijah’s Whim

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? You didn’t even give me a chance to say anything.”

“It’s this bit you have going.” I waved my hand in the air in front of her as though I were casting a magic spell.

“This…bit?” she asked with more than a little confusion.

“Like you’re about to cartwheel onto a thick blue mat for a cheerleading competition. Who do you normally have to do this for that it’s such a knee-jerk reaction?”

With rapt interest, she studied her water bottle and swallowed so hard I could see her throat bob even in the dimly lit room. But she didn’t answer me. Just stared at that damn water bottle.

With my voice in the deepest register I had, I said, “Look at me.”

Her blue eyes searched mine cautiously, and I tried to convey one simple message. You are safe.

Above all, she needed to believe that. I was a dominant man, true. But I would never hurt a woman. I was nothing like my father. I understood the difference with unerring clarity.

I held her gaze but didn’t touch her otherwise. “Now answer me.”

“I—” she started and then abruptly stopped. “It’s not—” and then stopped again.

Something about her stuttered inhale finally broke through my thick skull. She’d just had an anxiety attack, and I was right back in her face pushing her for answers she didn’t want to give me. I should back off and give the girl some space and hope she’d come to me on her own. Just because waiting was so far outside my comfort zone didn’t mean it wasn’t exactly what she needed.

But that wasn’t good enough. If she got away with running when I pressed her for more this time, she’d use the tactic again and again.

“Actually, Elijah, it’s been a long day. I’m just going to head to my room if it’s all the same. I’m really sorry about this whole…” As she stood, she waved her hand through the air, I guess to symbolize the anxiety attack.

“I’ll tell you what, beautiful. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready for bed, and I’ll be in in a few minutes?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Her bewildered expression was priceless.

“To tuck you in, of course,” I responded, unfazed. Boy, did I call this or what? Definitely wasn’t letting her off the hook now.

“Elijah, that is so unnecessary.”

“Oh no, it’s totally necessary. After this whole”—I made the same ridiculous hand gesture she just had to encompass the anxiety attack—“I don’t think I’d sleep tonight not knowing that you got to bed okay. In fact…” I stroked my stubble-roughened chin a few times. “Yeah…” I nodded soundly as though I just made the most important decision of my adult life.

Shit—maybe I have.

“I better just sleep with you tonight. I’ll get changed and be in shortly.”

I pulled her close to me, kissed her forehead, and then left her standing in the middle of the great room, beautifully bewildered as she tried to come up with something to say in rebuttal.

Turning around, I walked backward down the hall toward my own room. “Don’t take too long, and we’ll have time for a bedtime story.” Intentionally adding my sexiest grin to the mix afterward, I saw Hannah’s lips part when she needed more oxygen.

I couldn’t help myself. I knew I shouldn’t keep fucking with her, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. Maybe if I just got inside her perfect body and slaked the agonizing desire I’d battled all day long while thinking about her, this need to push her for more would stop.

After locking up the house for the night, I went down the hallway that led to Hannah’s suite. Light still came from the gap beneath the door, so I tapped lightly a few times on the solid wood frame.

My pretty guest opened the door about five inches but didn’t readily stand aside or verbally invite me in.

“We really can say good night here, Mr. Banks. You can see I’m totally fine.”

“Nonsense. What kind of host would I be?” My palm met the center of the door, I gave a little push, and she moved out of the way. “I’ll even lie on top of the covers if that makes you feel better. And I can go to my room once you’re soundly sleeping. I thought I heard you having a nightmare a couple of nights ago.” I strode to the center of the room and spun back to face her when I sensed she hadn’t followed me. “Do you have those frequently?”

I was shirtless and in a pair of white cotton drawstring pajama pants. My skin had a natural olive hue, so I looked tan year-round. The amount of time I spent outside swimming added to my skin’s golden glow. The low light in Hannah’s room wasn’t hurting the overall effect, either.

When I turned back to face her, she was gawking so hard I had to hold back at least five different comments that would’ve done nothing but embarrass her and make me sound like a conceited ass. While some might argue that to be true, I didn’t have to be the one proving it.