Chapter 25
SAPPHIRE
Lying on my side, I grumble, like a bear awakening from a deep slumber. My eyes flutter open, then close again, trying to adjust to the morning light while my brain struggles to figure out where I am.
All I know is, I am hot. Like, hotter-than-the-devil’s-balls, scorching hot, and I’m unable to move because something, or more like someone has their arms wrapped around my waist, pinning me in place from behind.
I turn my head slightly, shifting my focus around the space I’ve woken up in, and all the memories of yesterday’s wedding, including the things Eli shared with me with his liquid courage, flood back at lightning speed.
I’m in bed with Eli. My new favorite spot.
And he’s holding me close like I’m his only source of warmth on a winter’s day.
Which means that the big warm hand currently squeezing my boob like the world’s best stress toy is… also Eli’s.
And the leg draped over my hip holding me in place is his, too, as is the face that’s snuggled into my neck. And… the… eh, erection that’s nestled between my ass cheeks? Also his.
As if a blizzard has frozen me in place, my breathing slows down, but my mind is spinning like a tornado.
I’ve been imagining touching him for weeks, imagining what he would feel like. Only my mind didn’t do him justice; the real thing is ten times better.
Trying to figure out what to do, I opt to remain still so I can stay cocooned in Eli’s arms for just a little longer. He feels so good and he’s so warm, his hold firm as if he’s protecting me from the world beyond the walls of this bedroom.
Closing my eyes again, I relax in his arms, hoping that he doesn’t freak the hell out when he wakes up.
I wiggle my ass against him again to check I wasn’t daydreaming, and nope, I wasn’t. Eli Hart is packing some serious length and width beneath his underwear.
My thoughts drift to a place I’ve been visiting more often these days, imagining what Eli would feel like inside me, rubbing the thick head of his cock against my G-spot.
That thought spreads heat between my thighs, and an involuntary whimper escapes my lungs as I wiggle my ass again, prompting a long, drawn-out groan to leave Eli’s lungs, his chest rumbling against my back.
It sounds more sexual than it should, so I move again, wanting to hear him once more, because I’m a tease and I swear my actions make his cock thicken against my panties.
Behind me, Eli nuzzles his nose into my hair and lets out another groan, along with a boob squeeze, before he rasps, “You smell good.”
“Thanks,” I squeak, fidgeting slightly and writhing in his arms, partly because I feel uneasy about waking up in Eli’s bed and partly because I’m curious to see what he does next when he realizes his hand is cupping my breast. I hope he doesn’t let go too soon because I’m enjoying it.
Waking up with Eli caressing me is also another past fantasy of mine that has come true. The reality is much better as my body molds perfectly into his. He’s so masculine. And hard. Everywhere.
“Morning, Eli,” I whisper, feeling the anticipation of him realizing he’s in bed with me growing at a pace I’m unsure my body can handle.
Eli’s brain may also go into meltdown. He’ll either snuggle into me and enjoy the morning waking up together, or he’ll jump out of the bed in shock, or perhaps he might not do anything at all.
Fight, flight or freeze. I just don’t know how this is going to go.
His fingers squeeze my breast again before going completely stiff, as if he’s finally opened his eyes, fully aware of where he is, he’s not dreaming, and I am here with him in bed.
Frozen in time, we remain perfectly still, like a glass lake.
I can almost hear his brain ticking, the gears turning in his head, considering his next move.
“That’s my boob.” I break the silence, keeping my voice low, but it rises an octave on the last word.
He remains deathly quiet, his hand still cupping my breast as if it’s glued in place. With his front pressed against my back, he’s as stiff as a steel pole. His demeanor and cock form a matching set.
Time ticks by for what feels like hours but is only seconds as we separately consider our next move, our tumultuous thoughts loud enough to break the sound barrier.
Is he still breathing?
Under the pressure, I finally crack and shamelessly rub my ass against him some more to check if he’s still alive because he hasn’t made a sound for at least a minute.
Quicker than a speeding bullet, he removes his hand from my breast and grabs my hips.
“Stop moving.” His fingertips dig into my skin, his voice sleep-filled, deep, and groggy.
He is alive and completely alert.
I don’t know what happens next, but us sleeping in the same bed last night was a huge step, or a huge breakthrough. It’s all huge… a bit like his dick.
“Something is poking my back,” I squeak, before tucking my lips into my mouth, trying my best not to wriggle but failing miserably.
“Stop. Moving.” He draws out his words lazily, digging his fingertips into my hips deep enough to bruise my skin. I don’t care; I want him to leave reminders of himself all over my body.
A pause crackles, the air thick with wonder.
“Why are we in bed together?” he asks, sounding confused.
Awkwardly, I twist my neck around to face him, arching my back, forcing my ass into his crotch some more, enjoying his cock that is as hard as a rock because I like knowing what I do to him.
He does the same to me; my panties are wet from his subtle touches alone, and I would love nothing more than for him to slip inside of me from behind.
He steals my breath from my lungs, even half asleep, I know his face is the one I could never tire of seeing day after day. It’s tragic, really, waking up to perfection when I probably look like hell. I didn’t even remove my makeup last night, and I must have panda eyes from my mascara.
“You asked me to stay the night.” I say it like a secret.
“Did we… you know… have sex?” His tone is so full of doubt that I have to work hard to hide how offended I am. If he’d slept with me, he would remember, because the obscene things I can do with my tongue… well… it would be an unforgettable experience.
“No, we didn’t even kiss,” I confirm. I’m glad we didn’t. I want him to be sober when we do. There’s no question in my mind that it will happen. Soon, I hope.
Maybe it’s a blessing that he doesn’t remember some of what he admitted last night.
He might cringe if he knew he’d confessed that he has dirty thoughts about me and his heart does some crazy shit when I walk into a room.
On the other hand, I feel sad that he won’t remember I told him the same thing happens to me.
“I’m glad we didn’t.” His eyes are filled with seriousness and honesty.
My heart lurches in my chest as bile rises in my throat. I feel stupid for believing that drunk Eli was telling the truth.
“I’m glad we didn’t,” he repeats, “because when we do, I want to remember everything.”
He said when. Not if. When. Every muscle in my body relaxes with relief, and I give him a giant smile.
“Me too.” I exhale softly.
He drops his head and mumbles into my hair, his nose brushing my cheek before he inhales a deep breath.
Is he sniffing me?
“I drank too much last night, I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself, Sapphire,” he says unexpectedly, sounding dream-like, nuzzling his nose further into my hair.
“You didn’t. You were adorable.”
As he pulls himself away from my hair, his brows dip with confusion. “Adorable?”
“Very.” I nod, once, then twice, bobbing my head slowly, wearing a giant smile.
“Oh God, what did I say?” he asks, the strain in his voice evident.
I turn in his arms, his hand sliding from my hip, his leg following as I spin around one eighty, bringing us face-to-face.
His hand stays between us, and I fight to keep my eyes up because, holy hot tamale, he is sinfully delicious.
It would be so wrong of me to reach out and squeeze one of his biceps, but I can’t stop wanting to.
“Last night you told me I was magic.” I place my hands together prayer style and slide them under my face. “You also said I was the most beautiful woman in the room last night. Even though there was a supermodel in attendance. You were also very drunk, so I’m not sure I believe you.”
“What else?” He blinks, slowly urging me to prattle on.
I clear my scratchy morning throat. “You told me that you find beauty in every part of me, but the first time you met me, you found me annoying.”
He winces, closing his eyes, letting the sting of his words settle between us. “I’m so sorry.” Unclenching his eyes, he pops them open and repeats, “I really am sorry.”
“Don’t be. I admire your honesty, Eli, and to soften the blow, you did tell me that after the night we had dinner, something shifted inside you.
” I pause as his face changes into something different: a look of quiet alarm as if he knows what’s coming next.
“And after that night, you started having dirty thoughts about me.”
He lifts his hand in the air, slaps his forehead, then drags his hand down his face, making him look like The Scream painting I once saw in Norway at the National Museum.
“Then,” I add.
“Oh my God, there’s more?”
“Mm-hm,” I confirm. “Then you proceeded to tell me that you’ve thought about me every day in the shower. I assume you meant you jerked off every morning. Is that what you meant?”
Open-mouthed, he goes to reply, then promptly presses his lips firmly back together again.
This is a lot of fun.