I try to memorize every detail of Eli that I can. The way his stubble scratches at the swirling ridges of my fingerprints. The pulse of his heart as it drums against my chest. My touch follows coiled muscle and ridges of spine. I break the kiss only long enough to pull Eli’s shirt up, and then his weight settles on me once more like a blanket of warmth.

Eli doesn’t try to undress me. He doesn’t push or demand anything. I take off each piece of clothing in my own time. When I unbutton my shirt, he kisses my collarbones. His palm curves around my shoulder. When I squirm out of my jeans, Eli’s hand flows down my leg, all the way to my ankle and back up again. I’m still in the cream-colored corset, and when I take it off with the hope that the constriction in my chest will get better, it doesn’t. There’s just an ache that burns inside me, growing hotter with every kiss and touch, consuming me when there are no clothes left and it’s just skin, just Eli’s broad shoulders and corded muscle and the weight of his body on mine.

It’s me who reaches between us. Me who folds my hand around his erection as he pulls away to look at me, that pained expression returning to his eyes as they shift between mine. “Am I hurting you?” I ask, loosening my grip until his hand finds mine and squeezes. Eli shakes his head and gives me a faint smile, but his brows draw together as he centers himself to me.

“No, Bria,” he says, the crown of his cock pressing to the dampness gathered at my folds. He glides into me with a slow stroke, my flesh stretching around his girth, his eyes still fused to mine, watching my reaction as pleasure replaces the emptiness. When he’s fully seated, he stops to press his lips to mine before falling into a gentle rhythm of thrusts, and then I’m trapped in his eyes once more, his hands framing my face. “I have to tell you something. I want you to stop me if it’s too much.”

My heart folds in on itself like origami. Confusion churns in my guts with a sudden wave of nausea. My voice echoes in my head in a melody tuned to the steady pace of Eli’s strokes. What are you doing to me? 

I swallow and nod.

Eli traces my cheek and my jaw, the pace of his thrusts slowing. “I want to know everything you’re comfortable sharing with me. And I meant what I said, I won’t push you for more. I don’t expect anything in return, but I need you to know.” His eyes follow the path of his thumb across the edge of my bottom lip. “I love you, Bria Brooks.”

Air flees my lungs.

I search every memory, but I don’t find it anywhere. I already know it was never there.

No one has ever said that to me before.

I shake my head. My eyes sting and burn. “No,” is all I can manage to say.

Eli’s smile erupts with a laugh, as though this is endearing and sweet and not monumental and tectonic. “Yes.”

“You can’t.”

“I can. I do. Sorry, not sorry.”

My breath is unsteady. Eli kisses the bridge of my nose and I press my fingertips into the firm muscles of his arms, willing myself to hold on and not tap his shoulders. He doesn’t know me. He thinks he knows enough but he doesn’t. And yet he seems so sure. Is this how it works? Do people really just feel some kind of magic and they put it out into the world and it’s real? I want to ask how. I want to understand the alchemy of it. But I’m afraid. I'm afraid that if I ask, it will vanish, nothing more than a mirage on the horizon.

Eli searches my face. His knuckles graze my cheek as he glides into me with deep, rocking strokes. Pleasure floods my core as I wrap one leg around his hips. And it’s not just the steady rhythm or the way he fills and stretches me or the friction of his body against mine that drives me closer and closer to coming undone. It’s just him.

My palms slide up his arms and over his shoulders. I lace my fingers together around the back of his neck and I hold his gaze with mine.

“You’re mine,” I whisper. “And I’m yours.”

When the surprise and relief dissolve from Eli’s face, there’s only the deepest longing left behind. No more words. No more admissions. Just his kiss, like a promise of dawn after night.

Maybe he does love me. Maybe I can let him. I can try.

OceanofPDF.com

24

OceanofPDF.com

BRIA

I wake before Eli and leave a little note on the pillow. Downstairs at the pool. When I’ve meditated and had a swim, I replace that note with another one. In the shower. When I’ve dried my hair and gotten dressed, I change notes again. In the kitchen. I make omelets and keep them warm in the oven, then decide it’s probably best to wake Eli before Amy arrives and they both experience a bit of a shock.

Eli doesn’t stir as I climb onto the mattress, but as soon as I lay my weight onto his body, his arms fold across my back and he traps me in a strong embrace.

“What time is it?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleepiness.

“Seven-fifty. Amy will be here any minute.”

“Mmmm.”

“I made breakfast. Also coffee.”

“Hmmm.”

“Those aren’t really words, Professor,” I say into his chest. He tightens his grip when I try to push away, but the driveway alarm beeps before I can sink further into him.

“What the hell is that,” Eli says as I squirm away to check the tablet on the wall.

“Amy. She comes to clean once a week.”

Eli sits up, running his hand through his hair as he watches me disarm the front door for Amy. “Pretty state-of-the-art system.”

“Yeah, Samuel is big on security.”

“Have you had break-ins? Should I be concerned?”

I laugh, warmed by his earnest response. “No. But you should be worried about Amy finding you in bed. She’s already going to have a thousand questions.”

Eli stands in all his naked glory and my blood instantly heats. He gathers his clothes then wraps an arm around my back, pressing his lips to mine before letting go to head for the ensuite. “Can’t wait for the introduction, Pancake,” he says with a wink over his shoulder. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The bathroom door closes just as the front door opens. I straighten out the rumpled sheets before heading out to meet Amy at the entrance. Her expression betrays her every thought. Surprise. Excitement. Intense curiosity.

“There’s a man here,” I blurt out before she can even say hello. “He’s in the shower.”

Amy’s smile widens as she sets her supplies down by the door. “I figured there might be a guest given the unfamiliar car in the drive.”

“He spent the night.”

“Okay…that’s—”

“I like him.”

What the hell is wrong with me? It’s not like Amy is a friend, but she’s been coming here since before I was in my undergrad, when the house still belonged to Samuel. She’s never seen me here with anyone other than him.

“I figured,” Amy says, swallowing a giggle. She picks up Kane as he winds through her legs and gives me a long, assessing look. “Was he with you at the hospital yesterday? How’s Samuel?”

“Yes, he was. I haven’t heard any updates yet but I’ll head there soon.”

Kane’s purr fills the silence between us as Amy watches me. “I’m glad, Bria. You should have someone with you. You don’t deserve to go through that alone. No one does.”

I’m not so sure about that. If she knew all the things I’ve done, she’d think differently. I’m the last person who deserves someone like Eli. Most serial killers would probably believe otherwise, because to them, they’re always owed things they never earned. If they want something, they take it. But I’m not like them. At least, not completely.

I already know I’m not worthy of this.

How can I try to let Eli love me when his words from the other night still play in my head? I don’t really know anything about love, but I understand the logic of what he said, that sometimes love is having the courage to let someone go when you know you can’t be what they deserve. As natural as this feels to be with him, and as much as he seems to be happy, I haven’t earned it, and I know I never will.