Page 67 of Elijah’s Whim

“Hannah, stop.”

So I did. Then I made the motion of locking my lips and throwing the key over my shoulder, and Elijah chuckled.

“Now, let’s not get carried away. I have plans for this mouth,” he said, using the pad of his thumb to drag my lower lip down as far as it would possibly go before allowing it to slip free and snap back into place. Then he gave me that sexy, smoldering come-fuck-me look he had perfected.

“And how can I shove my cock between these pretty lips if you lock them closed?” He tilted his head, and damn it, the hair flopped in obedience. “Although…” He made a charade of thinking. “I used to break into people’s cars when I was a street urchin. I was really, reeeaally good at picking locks, as a matter of fact.” He followed that comment with the panty-melting grin.

Didn’t he know he didn’t have to pull out the tricks with me? I would strip off my panties and throw them at him if he just suggested it.

“You’re dangerously sexy, do you know that? What am I asking?” I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm and guffawed. “Of course you do. That’s why you wield your charm like a weapon.”

“Let’s go inside,” he said, taking my hand without waiting for my opinion and towing me toward the door that breached the house from the garage. “Can you hit the button?”

“I sure can,” I said, and the garage door lumbered closed as we went into the house.

“I really need a shower after flying. Care to join me?”

“I think I’ll sit this one out, or we’ll never get out. California’s in a drought, remember? Plus, you aren’t going to dazzle your way out of this. Honestly, I think I should be pissed at this point that you keep trying to. Do I come off as dumb or naïve, Elijah? Or that unbelievably horny?”

“All right. The shower can wait. If that’s what you think I was doing, let’s talk first. You can’t blame me for wanting to wash the germs from four airports off my body before I touch a single surface in my own home, though, can you?”

“You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry. Do what you need to do, and I’m going to go check in with my mom. I’ve been meaning to call her all week, and the day just gets away from me. If you feel like talking, just come to my room when you’re done.”

“Hannah…” he started, but I was already halfway down the hall.

I felt like a first-rate bitch for saying all that, but I knew when someone was trying to put me off, and that was what was going on. Police didn’t show up at our house every day, and when I thought of why I’d been staying here in the first place—because someone had locked me in the walk-in cooler at work—I knew I had every right to know what was going on. The more he tried to shield me from it, the more uneasy I became.

And yes, Hannah Rochelle, you just called this house “our” house.

What was I doing here? I was asking myself in the emotional sense because this wasn’t some complicated, grown-up version of playing house. My heart was getting deeply invested. That meant my heart was also getting dangerously close to being broken if things went badly.

If I were honest with myself, I would admit Elijah Banks had the reputation of a Don Juan. A professional playboy. What made me think I was so special that he would want to settle down with someone like me? I was an inexperienced girl with a ton of baggage.

My mom’s mobile number rang through to her voicemail, so I left a quick message and told her I would try to call her tomorrow night around the same time. I needed to log more time ballooning and I wanted to invite my parents, but I wanted to check with Elijah before I did that.

Was it too soon for him to meet my parents? Was that still a thing? Did girls have their boyfriend meet their parents?

Washe my boyfriend?

It wasn’t like that was something I could just ask him.

There were times I swore my thoughts of him could summon him out of thin air. Three quiet taps on my doorframe snapped me out of my stressful thoughts about our relationship labels, and I answered the door to my suite.

“Hey, you,” I greeted quietly. “Feel better? You smell delicious.”

“Thank you, beauty. And yes, I feel so much better. I think that’s the worst part about flying commercial. Last time I don’t check what Bas has planned for his jet before I have to go somewhere.”

“Poor you. So spoiled.” I poked his ribs as he walked past me and came deeper into the room.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

As much as I wanted him to show me with his talented mouth and sinful body, I needed to ask him who that car belonged to that was in the driveway when I get home from work.

“We need to talk,” I said, pulling his arms off me and stepping backward out of the gravitational pull of his heavenly body.

Seeing the look on his face, though, felt like I’d punched him in the stomach, and I felt like I needed to explain myself immediately.

“That sounded so cliché, didn’t it? And I’m sorry, it’s nothing bad. I mean, I don’t think it is? It seems silly now.” I waved my hand through the air dismissively and then added, knowing full well I was rambling, “Actually, you’ll probably get a chuckle out of it too once I tell you. That’s why I haven’t mentioned it before this moment.”