I slip on my shorts and pull my tank top over my head. When I catch my reflection, I realize it leaves very little to the imagination—I don’t want to sleep in a bra, but I can’t exactly walk out there like this, although it’s tempting. I pull a bra out of my bag. It’s neon-pink. Great. It’ll show right through, but it’s better than nothing. After putting it on, I check myself in the mirror one last time before stepping out of the bathroom. I drop my bag at the end of his bed and steal another quick glance around the room, running my hand across the sturdy bed frame—his bedroom is so sexy, and I can’t believe I’m standing in it.
As I creep down the hallway, I find him sitting on the couch next to a neatly folded stack of blankets and pillows, watching ESPN on low volume.
When he notices my approach, he does a double-take, and his eyes widen. “You have got to be kidding me.”
I freeze. “What?”
“That’s what you’re wearing? It’s almost worse than the dress!”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, feeling heat spread across my face. “It’s all I brought.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh, mumbling something incoherent, and rises. “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll sleep out here.”
“I can’t take your bed,” I say, horrified. “I’ll sleep out here, it’s cool.”
“No,” he says as he sets up a makeshift bed.
“Seriously, I’ll sleep out here. You’ll be so cramped on this thing.”
He tosses a pillow at the end of the sofa and sits down on the opposite side. He pats the spot beside him, avoiding my appearance at all costs, and I drop down next to him.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asks, flinging a blanket over my legs.
“Weren’t you about to go to bed before I knocked on your door?”
“Yeah, but I’m not tired anymore.”
“Okay then,” I say, snuggling closer to him. “Let’s watch a movie.”
How differently this night has turned out. Guilt pulls at the back of my mind, reminding me of how terrible I am for abandoning Tommy, but elation mixed with booze trumps my shame for now, and I push it back.
He shuffles through the movie channels before settling on a romantic comedy that has already begun, but that I don’t think either of us cares about. He clicks off the lamp and wraps his arm around me.
I can’t believe I’m in his house, on his couch, wrapped in his arms.
Taking in his scent, I relax into his chest. I try to shuffle through my muddled thoughts and take a moment to process where I am and the events of the night. He’s right, I did take a big risk tonight . . . and it was worth it—even though I’m still unclear about where he stands with me. I’m itching to ask him about The Blonde, but the way I left Tommy tonight, I have no room to talk. This moment is all I need right now, and I’m so thankful I gave the cab driver his address. Best decision I made all night. After a while, I break free from his embrace and swing my legs up onto his lap as I lay back on the sofa, resting my head against the pillow.
“See?” I say, smiling at him. “I fit perfectly on this couch. I’m sleeping here.”
The blanket slid off me when I moved, and his gaze drifts to my legs. He traces his fingers along my calf and our eyes lock. His hand glides up my leg, and he shifts his body toward me. I pull my knees apart as he crawls in between my legs and brings his face to mine.
He kisses me so deep that fire spreads throughout my entire body. If this is infatuation, I could never handle love. I wrap a leg around him, and he runs his hand up the back of my thigh and over my backside, slipping his hand underneath the back of my tank top. I tug at his shirt, expecting him to stop me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his body off me and pulls it over his head.
He lowers himself back down, and I rush my hands up to stop him.
“Wait.”
He freezes.
I strain my eyes. “It’s hard to see in this light, but . . . is that an eight pack?!”
He bursts out a laugh, only accentuating his abs even more, and quickly returns to me. His skin is smooth underneath my hands as I eagerly explore his miraculous upper body.
“Seriously, Slate, do those actually exist?”
“Apparently,” he says, his eyes glimmering. “I don’t normally have an eight pack, though. It’s new.”
“It’s new?” I ask. “What, did you buy it off Amazon or something?”
He barks another laugh.
Even his laugh is sexy.
“No, I’ve just been working out more than usual. You know, trying to stay busy—keeping my mind off . . . things.” His features shift to something more serious and my stomach flutters.
“You’ve been working out to keep your mind off me?” All this time I thought I was going insane by keeping myself occupied, assuming he couldn’t even spare a thought about me. This new insight has me reeling. I feel myself falling fast, and it scares me.
“Pretty much,” he says. “I work out, golf, remodel bathrooms . . . you know, whatever’s necessary,” he says with a chuckle.
I can’t speak. I’m waiting for someone to wake me up and ruin the best dream I’ve ever had. My eyes wander to his chest, and I drink in his strong, wide shoulders that feel so protective around me. When I pull my gaze back up, I recognize the hunger in his eyes, and I lean up to kiss him. He slips his hand up the back my shirt and unhooks my bra with ease. I slide it off from underneath my tank top and toss it on the floor. Admiration washes over his face as he looks down at my body and leans into my neck, his lips causing me to forget the world that exists outside of these walls. His hands wrap around my rib cage as his thumbs lightly trace the sides of my breasts. I start to lift up my shirt, but he stops me.
“Kaley, I can’t.” His voice is muffled in the curve of my neck, and I let out a heavy sigh.
“Please,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you, Elijah.”
I feel the weight of his body as he buries his head in my neck, letting out a loud groan, crying, “Oh, God!” He lifts up his head, his eyes wild. “I have to stay in control. You’re not sober, and it’s not right.”
“I feel fine, I promise.” I touch my nose, alternating my right and left fingers, like they do for DUI tests, and he laughs.
“See?” I say, smiling.
“Yeah, you almost poked your eye out, but nice try.”
I pull him in for a kiss, then slide my hands down the sides of his naked torso and trace my fingers along the top of his jeans. When I reach the front, I unbutton them.
He jumps back.
“Shit,” he gasps.
I have a better view of his body as he kneels before me, and the aching pressure below me escalates. He refastens his jeans, and I catch a glimpse of a black waistband that tortures my curiosity.
“Are you going to make me beg?” I say.
“Please, don’t,” he says with his eyes closed. He stays there for a moment and steadies his breathing. When he opens his eyes, his expression is wary. “Kaley, I have a hard time controlling myself around you, I’m sorry. I’m only human . . . but I know my limits. And it’s not just your intoxicated state that’s stopping me; although, it’s really helped my conscience tonight.”
“Honestly, I’m fine,” I say, hoping to assure him.
“It’s not just that,” he says as he lowers himself over me, his face inches from mine. “You’re worth more than that, Kaley. I want to take this slow.”
My heart sputters. “So, you want to take this somewhere?”
“I don’t think I have a choice anymore,” he whispers.
I can’t suppress a grin, and he eyes my mouth. I bite my lip, trying to hold in my delight, and he presses his lips to mine. But the kiss ends before I can even begin. I want more, but don’t push it. He turns me on my side, facing me toward the TV and wedges himself between me and the couch. I have no idea what the movie’s about, but it doesn’t matter—if you’ve seen one romantic comedy, you’ve seen them all. He wraps his sturdy arm around my waist and slides his arm between my breasts, gently clasping the base of my neck. He holds me close as he nuzzles my neck and kisses me below my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Hey,” I warn. “Don’t start something that you aren’t willing to finish, Slate.”
I feel him shake with silent laughter. “Fair enough, beautiful.”
Warmth floods my chest, and I relax into him, feeling his breath against my neck. My eyes become heavy as I listen to the rhythm of this breathing, and my body eventually gives in to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A THUNDEROUS BOOM STARTLES ME awake as the walls shake around me. My eyes spring open in the darkness, but I can’t tell where I am. A flash of lightning pierces through the shutters on the window, giving me a brief view of my surroundings, and I sit up as another rumble vibrates the bed.
I’m in his bedroom!
He must’ve carried me in here after I fell asleep and took the couch for himself.
“It’s okay,” says a soft whisper.
I flinch and notice a shadowy figure lying next to me. My body trembles from the panic that tore me out of my peaceful sleep—I realize now it’s just a thunderstorm, but my body still needs to catch up with my brain. And lying in my math teacher’s bed alongside him isn’t exactly helping.