Page 60 of Elijah’s Whim

Please, I am begging you, God, whoever…don’t let me fuck this one up.

“Do you know what caught my mom’s attention when they were walking past her with their supposed child sleeping on the man’s shoulder?”

“What?” I asked, my voice still thick with emotion.

“It was that damn sandal. The one had fallen off, and the other was still securely on my foot. The Trasks weren’t parents and hadn’t even noticed. But my mom saw it immediately and knew, regardless of the clothes and hair, that it was me. She knew.”

“That’s incredible,” I said in awe. “See? I knew you had a really great mom.” I didn’t know what more I could add.

“My mom still has that shoe to this day,” Hannah said with so much pride. And for the first time since recounting the horrid tale, tears welled in her eyes. “Damn, almost made it without crying.”

I pulled her close again, and she climbed back into my lap with her entire body. With my face buried in her hair, I gently rocked her. Now I needed to figure out what to do with the information in the report sitting in my email inbox. While what I’d told Hannah was true, I’d seen enough of it when put together with everything she just shared with me to know a shitstorm was about to rain down on her life.

First order of business should probably be talking to my best friends and getting their take on the situation. I didn’t think this would circle back to the bullshit with the pirates, but stranger things had happened where Sebastian was involved. There was a large part of me that was shocked Hannah hadn’t insisted I tell her what was in that file the moment she shared her history. Another thought popped into mind, and how I hadn’t thought of it before, I hadn’t a clue.

Why had her parents kept this information from her? As much as it sucked, I wouldn’t do the same thing. She had a right to know.

“Beautiful, sit up for a second. I want to look at that email about the Trasks. My mind has latched on to something I saw that’s not making sense. I need to connect the dots.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I don’t know about you, but that tea only went so far, and now I’m starving. Why don’t I go make us something to eat while you do what you need to do? How does an omelet sound?”

“That sounds perfect. I can’t skip a workout again today. I gotta keep in shape for my lady.”

“Your lady?” she teased from a few feet away. At least, I thought she was teasing. “Is that right?” she pressed me for more as she came within reaching distance.

“Yes, that’s damn right.” I snaked my arm out from where I sat on the sofa and grabbed her around the backs of the thighs and pulled her to stand between my knees. I pulled up her T-shirt enough to expose a strip of bare skin that I could press my lips to.

“I told you before, once I’m with a woman, I’m only with that woman.” Then it dawned on me. What if she didn’t want a relationship? “I just assumed you wanted the same thing I did, but now I’m wondering if I’m making a jackass out of myself.”

“Elijah Banks. I have to say, you’re pretty adorable when you’re nervous.”

I pinched her ass to remind her who was still in charge. “Adorable I can live with. Behind closed doors, at least. Nervous? Never.”

Now that she’d planted the thought of food, I was starving. I could look at the email in a few minutes. I picked Hannah up effortlessly and carried her in a front piggyback to the kitchen and set her on the island.

“An omelet, huh? Anything sound better?”

“Hmmm…” She made a big show of thinking and then put her index finger straight up in the air. “You,” she said, laughing with that throaty husk that had driven me insane since the first time I heard it.

Fixing my stare to hers first, I prowled back to her, leaving the refrigerator wide open. Well, she had my attention now. Quickly, I stood before my beauty and tried to push my way between her legs, but she squeezed her thighs together.

Oh, she had no idea how I loved a good struggle in the bedroom. But considering all the information shared over the past couple of hours, I knew we needed to have a careful and detailed conversation about bedroom triggers. In the meantime, I’d have to curb my urges and play on the safe side of the line.

I leaned past her so I could speak low and directly into her ear. “My house. My woman. My pussy. Mine.” I bit her earlobe to punctuate my point.

Next, I moved down to the graceful slope where her neck met her shoulder and bit there too.

Her sensual moan was met with my declaration, “Mine.”

Finally, I trailed wet kisses outward along her collarbone to the ball of her shoulder. There, after sinking in for a third bite, I finished with the verbal claim, “Mine.”

“Elijah…” she gasped, but when I moved directly in front of her again, she didn’t finish the thought. I loved the notion that I was overwhelming her with pleasure. Just from a few nibbles and seductive promises, she couldn’t string a whole sentence together, and it fed my ego in the best way.

“Yeah, baby?”

But she didn’t respond. She just stared into my eyes with her glassy ones and with a beautiful flush high on her cheeks.

“Have you decided what you want to eat?” I asked. “How do you feel about quiche?”