Holy . . . I draw my legs underneath me, my guard faltering as I try to let his words sink in.
“I’m sorry if this is too soon for you to handle,” he says quietly, “but I feel like I need to speak my truth. Especially after seeing how freaked out you got this morning. This is out of my control, Kaley, and I’ve stopped trying to fight it. I’m risking everything for this. For us. Do you think I’d do that for just anybody? Believe it or not, I do get offers from women”—he pauses with a quick wink—“I’ve turned everyone down . . . until you came along.”
He leans in and kisses me. Not his usual slow, teasing kiss. This is a hungry, urgent kiss. It feels like a continuance from the last kiss he gave me in the spa. A raw, burning, fervent kiss. The wall I’ve been trying to secure around my heart comes crashing down, and I wrap my arms around him.
He takes me from my waist, pulling me on top of him, and I sit astride him as his hands slide up my back. He moves his lips down to my neck, and I let out a soft moan. He hoists me up as he rises from the couch and carries me, my legs wrapped firmly around him. Our lips never break from each other as he makes his way down the hallway and into his bedroom. He lays me down on his luxurious bed, pinning himself on top of me. My hands explore his bare chest, and his hands graze my thighs, hiking up my skirt, his virile fingers brushing the sides of my panties.
A well of emotions surge through me, and he lifts my tank top over my head. His eyes run over my white lace-trimmed bra before he leans in, kissing the spot on my neck that sends tremors down my sides. His lips make their way down my collarbone, then down the center of my chest, continuing down to my stomach. Butterflies spring into action as his lips skim past my belly button. He stops when he reaches the hem of my skirt and reaches around behind me, deftly unhooking my bra. The small action has me spinning. He’s always warning me that if I take my bra off, he won’t be able to stop himself. I eagerly slip it all the way off, and he feasts his eyes upon me.
After a few beats, he leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Your beauty is unreal.” His lips are then fierce against mine, and I fumble with the button on my skirt before sliding it down.
He doesn’t stop me.
“Are you sure, baby?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I breathe. Please!
I know the smart thing to do is wait until after graduation, but I don’t want to think rationally, I only want to feel. He just revealed a piece of his soul, confessed his feelings for me, and I want him. All of him. Now.
My fingers find the top of his jeans, and I unfasten them, revealing the black boxer briefs that teased me earlier this morning. My hands tremble as I timidly slip my hand over him, and he kisses me with a new thirst, thrusting his hips forward. I pull on his boxers, inching them down. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And after months of yearning, of craving, of longing, I’m finally going to have him.
He starts to slide down the last garment separating my natural state from his covetous eyes when the doorbell rings.
He lets out a groan that sounds closer to a whine. “You can’t be serious.”
“Pretend you’re not home,” I urge.
His lips return to mine just as the doorbell rings again. He continues to kiss me until an urgent knock strikes the door.
“Damn,” he whispers. “The Tahoe’s in the driveway, they know I’m home. He stands up, and I instantly mourn the loss of his body. He peeks through the shutters.
“Shit!”
I sit up straight. “What’s wrong? Is she back?”
“No,” he says, slipping on his jeans. “It’s Stan.”
“Who’s Sta—Principal Bentley?”
“Shh! Yes,” he whispers. “Get your clothes on and hide.”
“What the hell is he doing here? Does the principal make random house calls often?”
“We golf together, and he’s probably not happy I bailed without warning. Twice. He’s going through a nasty divorce, so he’s a little needy lately.”
“He is? Oh, that’s kind of sad.” I’m not exactly a big fan of the guy, but after witnessing what my parents have gone through, it makes me pity him. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. “So you’re like his confidant?”
“Kay,” he says, throwing on a thin gray shirt. “We don’t have time to discuss this right now, hurry.”
I realize I’m still sitting on his bed, almost completely naked. “Right, sorry!” I jump up just as the doorbell rings again. “Geez, talk about eager.” My lightheadedness makes it difficult to function at a normal speed.
He draws me close and tastes my lips once more. “Please hurry and put your clothes back on, or I’m never going to be in a position to answer the door.”
I look down at his jeans and grin.
“I’m serious Kay,” he says, rushing me into the closet. Another knock pounds on the door, and he waits another moment before leaving the room.
I scramble to put my clothes on, my body still quivering. I try to process what just happened. It’s a lot of information to take in this morning, including the “big rule” of his we were just about to break.
I figure I’ll be safe coming out of the closet and waiting on his bed, but I can hear my principal’s voice through the wall, and it makes me too nervous, so I sit on the floor of his closet instead. It smells like him in here. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes. I’ve never experienced this kind of passion before. I can still feel exactly where his lips were on my body, and my skin tingles at the thought of his warm, masculine fingers.
But as my body starts to settle, my thoughts take over. . . . Hiding in his closet feels degrading, but jeopardizing his career is the last thing I want to do. Graduation is on the horizon, and I can’t wait to be free.
But will we be free? I wonder.
Let’s say after I graduate, my principal knocks on the door—which now seems highly likely—would I be able to show my face in this house? I’m free to do as I please, but is Elijah? Mr. Bentley will still be his boss. I don’t want Elijah to risk his reputation and be blacklisted from the community, yet at the same time I know I don’t want to run to his closet every time there’s a knock at the door. I’m surprised it bothers me so much—I figured I’d be content to live the rest of my life in his closet, if it meant I could feel his body on mine and be wrapped in his arms every night.
But I think I was wrong.
I was just about to have sex for the first time in my life, only to be rushed into a closet. What if we had been in the middle of it? Would that have been my first experience? That’s more demeaning than losing your virginity in the back of some guy’s van. I replay his words in my mind: I have never felt this way about anyone before in my entire life.
I should be euphorically happy. But instead, I’m hiding in his closet for the second time today. I know it’s not his fault, and I know he doesn’t want to hide me, but no matter how I look at it, it leaves me feeling inadequate. The realization of the impossibility of our relationship hits me like a block of ice. I try to remind myself that he really does care about me. Maybe even loves me. But as I listen to the voices through the wall, I feel almost worthless.
Embarrassed.
Maybe even . . . pathetic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WHEN ELIJAH RETURNS TO THE bedroom, he finds me lying on the floor of his designer closet with tears streaming down my face.
“I’m sorry, Kaley,” he says, easing himself onto the floor beside me. “I didn’t think he’d stay that long. I kept trying to get him out of here.”
“How long have I been in here?” I ask, sniffling.
He’s silent for a moment. “Over an hour.”
I look up at him. His eyes, laced with penitence, rest on mine.
“An hour and a half,” he admits. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, sitting up. “I feel like an idiot right now, crying in your damn closet. This is probably confirmation that I’m too young for you, right?” I smile through my tears and wipe my face.
“No, Kay.” He runs a reassuring hand over my bare leg. His hand feels strong, warm. “I knew this would be complicated, but I didn’t realize to what extent. I’ve expected a lot from you, and I haven’t been fair. I can’t imagine it feels good to be hidden away in a closet like this.”
“It’s not just that.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I was about to lose my virginity, Elijah . . . only to have you—”
“Kay, I—” He exhales. “Oh, God,” he whispers quietly to himself.
I open my eyes. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad; it’s just . . . a lot to take in.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his face twisting in anguish. “I’m being selfish.”
“I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your career.” I bring my knees up to my chest, making more room for him on the cramped floor.
“I know you don’t,” he says softly.
“Okay, let’s be real here,” I say, resting my chin on my knees. “I graduate in two weeks. Where does that leave us?”