Page 55 of Elijah’s Whim

“Hannah—”

“No. Don’t.” I didn’t want to hear about how last night was a mistake and I was supposed to just be there so he could protect me until we figured out who was in the kitchen at Abstract that day.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“There’s nothing to say.” I thought for a second or two and then changed my mind. Maybe a little contrition would go a long way with this guy.

“I’m sorry I allowed myself to become so vulnerable last night. That wasn’t fair to you. You already have enough going on, and you don’t need to be babysitting me, too. I mean, obviously, that’s what you are doing. Babysitting me, right? I don’t want to be your burden, Elijah. It’s not a good feeling for me. I’m going to talk to Rio this afternoon and see if her future husband thinks it’s safe for me to go home.”

I could hear the way I was rambling, and based on the grin he was trying—and failing, I might add—to hide, I was pretty sure he could too.

“First of all,” Elijah said, stepping around the island so we both were on the same side of the slab of stone. His voice was so dark and seductive, I thought of a predator, luring its prey into a clever trap.

Don’t do the head tilt. Don’t do the head tilt. Don’t do the head tilt.

“Do you really not understand?” he asked calmly.

“Understand what?” My reply was burdened with impatience.

“I want you here. I want you.” He took a step toward me, and the intense look he leveled me with was more potent than anything I’d seen from him before. “Do you understand me now, beautiful? Is that clear enough?”

“You don’t have to talk to me like—”

“Do you understand me?” he growled again.

Like an insolent brat, I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh, here we go with this again.”

And apparently I’d taken it a step too far with my childish response, because he was on me like the clap of thunder that follows lightning. Except I didn’t even get those five seconds before he was leaning over me with his whole body, pressing my back down to the island.

“Do you understand?” he asked with his nose pressed to mine.

I pushed as hard as I could on the twin muscle stacks of his chest. “Yes! For fuck’s sake, Elijah, I understand you!”

We both stood up, and I glared at him sideways as I put some distance between us.

“Are you happy? I understand every word that comes out of that sinful mouth.” Tears were welling up, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to pull an Abbi here. God, it was the last thing I wanted to do. “But what do you want from me? I’m trying to be the spineless, pliant houseguest here. I really am. You’re not making it easy. If you’re ever honest with yourself, you have to see that.” I sagged onto one of the counter stools and put my folded hands between my thighs.

I finally looked up and found his eyes fixed on me. One fat tear rolled down my cheek.

“How do you not see I’m trying?”

“Is that really what you think I want you to be? Or do?”

“Isn’t that what the other women who come through your door do? Or act like?” I shrugged. “I thought I was just the next in line.”

“Beautiful girl, you are nothing—and let me say that again—nothing like the women I bring here to fuck.”

I winced at the crass description of his relationships. If that was what they could be called.

“So what am I, then?”

“Stunning. Fascinating. Intriguing. Of course, my favorite”—and he inserted that fucking grin—“beautiful.”

“We should’ve never fooled around last night. It just complicated everything. I know you and your friends have some troublesome things going on. And I know I somehow got dragged into it. Wrong place at the wrong time, as far as I can tell. Let’s just pretend last night never happened and go back to you making sure I’m safe and us avoiding each other outside of that. I think that’s probably our best plan.”

“No.”

“No?”