Page 9 of Elijah’s Whim

Chapter Three

Elijah

Forever. It had literally been forever—maybe even forever and a day—since I’d been this intrigued and excited by a female. Right now, the stunning bombshell fidgeting on the bed in front of me was doing both of those things in spades.

Her innocence had a lot to do with her appeal, there was no doubt about that fact. That in itself was unusual, since I was a dirty, twisted guy when it came to my sexual preferences. Those adjectives and innocent girls like Hannah Farsey didn’t usually play well together.

So, for starters, I was going to have to get her to trust me enough to open up to me. Even just a little, because right now, she sure as hell didn’t at all. And she didn’t even know a thing about me. Unless…

Rio.

It had to be. Where else would she be getting this bad taste in her mouth? By now, I usually had women tripping all over themselves, and they couldn’t even understand why, let alone explain it to their girlfriends. But Rio Gibson and I had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe even the wrong feet—that was how awkward and strained our relationship was.

Hannah worked for Rio and Abbigail, Sebastian’s fiancée. Although, since Abbi was still on maternity leave, she wasn’t coming into the kitchen every day. No one was there to balance all the negativity Rio was likely putting into the atmosphere with regard to me.

Well, I’d put an end to that bullshit first thing tomorrow.

“How about we get to know each other a little better while I work my magic?” I asked while twisting her hair into a tight rope and clipping that on top of her head to keep it out of the way.

She laughed. Fucking laughed. I also couldn’t tell you the last time a woman laughed at me, but this one was full of surprises, if nothing else. In the meantime, the crotch of my pants just kept getting tighter and tighter. Her alto voice was like a vise on my balls in the best way. But even when she laughed? Yeah, at this pace, I was going to split the seam of this pair by the end of night.

“And what, might I ask, is so funny about that question? Actually, hold that answer. Are you allergic to anything? I have oil here for your neck and shoulder, and I want to be sure you don’t have allergies to anything.”

“No, I don’t. Well, bees, but I don’t think that will be a problem. Thank you for asking first, though.”

She buried her face in the crook of her arm and finally settled in so I could rub her shoulder, but now I was torn. She should’ve told me about the bee allergy before we went to Bas and Abbi’s pool party but didn’t.

I wanted to address the issue immediately, but because it had taken her so long to finally relax into the idea of me massaging her shoulder, I made a mental note—and underlined it twice—to have the bee allergy conversation as soon as the massage was done.

“God, where did you learn to do this? Tell me you’re a massage therapist in your spare time, and I’m going to move in with you permanently,” Hannah mumbled.

“Feel good?” I pushed for additional kind words instead of addressing her comment. I didn’t want to sound too eager and freak her out.

“Yes. My shoulder already feels better than it was,” she purred.

“Anything else hurting? What about your feet? You’re on them all day.”

“Are you trying to earn sainthood this evening, Mr. Banks?” Hannah asked after turning her face to the side to look at me.

I quickly squatted down to be eye level with her so she wouldn’t see the massive erection I had. The grin that won me favors with women near and far slid into place as effortlessly as signing my name. I stroked her mussed hair back from her forehead and was again transfixed by her natural beauty. For a few moments, I just drank her in. She studied me as long as I studied her. And the whole time, I couldn’t stop stroking my fingers through her silky hair.

“This has to be natural,” I finally said, my eyes darting around her crown at all the shades of gold, white, yellow, and even a strand or two of red.

“It is.” Her voice was still in the lower range I was officially insane for. But when her shy smile was coupled with that throaty rasp, my brain and dick were short-circuiting at the same time. No blood supply plus excessive blood supply equaled grown man down. It was simple biology and math.

I finally unscrambled my motherboard long enough to realize that her mouth had been moving, which probably meant she had been saying something and would expect a response of some type. I had to stop thinking with my dick, or I was going to come off like every other asshole who wanted in her pants—and who I wanted to now murder—and figure out what she had been saying this whole time.

“Why did you say ‘it has to be,’ though? I’m curious what you based that on.”

Oh, thank fuck. Still about the hair. Seriously. Only women could go on this long about their hair.

“Well, for one thing, it feels so silky. Most women I’ve known who have had bottle blond?” I waited for her to respond in some way, so when she did with a nod, I continued. “I guess it felt dry or maybe damaged? Like it would go up in flames if she got too close to a heat source, you know?”

“Elijah!” She punched my arm playfully, but shit, the girl had a good hook on her.

Rubbing my arm, I whined a bit more than necessary. “Owww. Take it easy, killer. Hey, maybe when I have your collar made, I could have spikes put on it, and it can say Bruiser. Or, no, better! Killer!”

The next three things happened in quick, measured intervals, but there was no way to misunderstand her body language. I’d pushed her too far with that comment, and even though I was joking, all traces of humor were gone now.