Chapter 17
Willow
Elijah is kissing me.
In the rain.
I've imagined this moment more times than I’d ever admit, but nothing prepared me for how it actually feels.
He kisses me, and it's so devastatingly gentle.
Like he's been holding back for far too long.
His hands settle on me with quiet confidence, thumbs brushing my waist, drawing me closer until there's no space left to doubt.
It feels like magic.
I don't even care that I’m soaked, rain plastering my hair to my face, tears mixing freely as he pulls me flush against him. I can taste the salt when our lips part and meet again, and all I feel is relief because he's finally kissing me.
I clutch his rain-soaked jacket, fingers curling tight, because I don't want this to end. Just like that, all the hurt, the confusion, the humiliation—it dissolves. Washes away.
His lips leave mine, but he doesn't step back. He stays right there, forehead nearly touching mine, breath warm against my skin, eyes searching my face like he's memorising it.
“You have no idea how much I like you, princess or how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”
“How long?”
His hand slides up my spine until he cups the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
“The moment I saw you.”
I blink at him, genuinely stunned. “You're kidding,” I say. “I was rude. And I literally ate the floor in front of you.”
It was so embarrassing, but at the time, I was more annoyed that I thought he was pretty as soon as I saw him.
He laughs, deep and warm, like he finds the whole thing charming. The grin that spreads across his face makes my stomach flip. “Seriously.”
I study him for a beat, searching for the joke, but there isn't one—just honesty.
“I’m so fucking gone for you, and now that I've kissed you, there's no turning back for me.” His thumb strokes just under my jaw, grounding, possessive. “I tried to be good. I tried to give you the space that you needed and not drag you into something that will be complicated.”
His forehead rests against mine, and his other hand settles on my ass. The evidence of how badly he wants me is impossible to miss.
“You're mine now, Willow. I want all of you.
I want my days filled with you, watching you dance, watching you win, watching you become everything you're meant to be.” he pauses.
“I want you in my bed to fuck whenever I want, to wake up next to your beautiful face, and to have your taste on my lips before I go to work for the rest of the day.”
My pulse skips.
“So no, I’m not holding back anymore, and I hope you're ready for that.”
I smirk, despite myself, heart racing. “Bold of you to assume I can't handle you.”
This man has a filthy mouth, and it does things to me I wasn't remotely prepared for. Heat spreads low in my stomach, all needy, which is honestly ridiculous considering all we've done is kiss. No one before me has ever flipped a switch like this, ever.
I've always known a part of me wanted someone who could take control without asking, who wanted me constantly, unapologetically. Someone who knew exactly what to do with me and wasn't afraid to prove it. God, I hope it's him.
I slide my hands up and grip either side of his neck, his skin soft. The only redeeming quality about these heels is that I don't have to stretch to meet his eyes.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, the words barely making it past my lips.
“Is that an order?”
My hands cup his cheeks, and the rough scrape of his stubble against my palms sends a shiver straight through me. “Just kiss me.”
He doesn't hesitate.
His lips crash into mine, all hunger and impatience. It's messy, desperate, and I feel him everywhere. I hate that our soaked clothes are in the way, hate the distance they create when all I want is to be closer.
Elijah groans, the sound vibrating against my mouth before he pulls back. I let out a soft sound of protest without thinking, my lips falling into a pout.
“Don't pout.” his eyes flick over my mouth. “Walk over to the car for me.”
He steps back, hands flexing at his sides like it's taking real effort not to pull me straight back in.
“Are we going?” I ask lightly. “Because I was really enjoying that kiss.”
“So was I, but I’d rather not get taken out by a passing car while we are both distracted.” He jerks his chin toward the vehicle. “Go to the car. Now.”
I turn and reluctantly walk toward it, trying not to limp even though these heels are actively plotting my demise. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time.
When I reach the car, I rest my fingers lightly on the bonnet and turn. Suddenly, he's there, hands sliding to my hips and lifting me with ease. The metal presses against the back of my thighs, damp and cold, and a quiet squeak slips out of me.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, breathless as his hands brace on either side of me.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
I lean in, eager to kiss him again, but he stops me with a single finger to my lips. “Not here.”
My stomach flips.
His touch slides down, big and rough, gripping my thighs and easing them apart, claiming the space between them like he has every right to it. I glance around instinctively, worried about someone turning up.
“Elijah,” I breathe. The way he's looking at me steals the breath from my lungs. “You can't do that here.”
He trails his fingers over the fabric of my thong, a warning touch that makes my body respond before my mouth can catch up. My hips tilt despite myself.
“Are you really going to deny me my pussy?”
I’d be an idiot to say no.
“Anyone could show up,” I murmur, trying to reason even as my body betrays me. The words are weak, and he knows it.
“It's the middle of the night, so it's just us.” He guides my legs wider, the fabric of my dress pulling tight as his gaze darkens. “I've been thinking about all the different positions I can bend you in.”
Heat floods me as he drops down in front of me.
I’m in real trouble. The sight of him like this, kneeling, eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world, nearly undoes me.
I expect him to tease me, or to take his time, but instead, there's a sharp tug and the delicate fabric gives way.
“Oh God,” I inhale, shock and desire tangling together as the cool night air hits me.
“Not God, Willow. He doesn’t deserve the praise for what I’m about to do to you.”
Alright then. Noted.
His tongue sweeps over his lip, satisfaction flashing across his face as his hands slide back up, parting me for him. By the way he groans with hunger, and his throat working as he swallows, I know exactly what got his attention.
“You have a piercing.”
“Uh-huh,” I plant my hands on the cool bonnet. “Got it a few years ago, helps with… You know.”
“Does it?” His eyes don't stray from the piercing, and I can't even close my legs as he holds them open.
“It helps me,” I admit. “You'd be surprised how few men can't even find the clit—” I yelp as he pinches the skin of my thigh. “Ouch! What was that for?”
He straightens, towering over me for a moment, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.
“Never mention anyone you've been with again,” he says softly, brushing his lips against the tip of my nose in a ghost of a kiss.
“Because I’m about to show you what it's like to be with an actual man who knows what he's doing.”
I love that commanding tone.
“Lean back.”
I nod quickly and let myself fall back against the car, stomach twisting in knots. He lifts my hips, pressing my shoulders against the cold metal, and the sudden motion makes my head spin—until his mouth finds me.
He pulls at my piercing, sensitive from how much I want him, tongue swirling around, and I can't hold anything back.
“Fuck,” I gasp, eyes fluttering shut, trying and failing to hold onto something.
He grips my ass hard, holding me steady, and I force myself to look at him.
The rain is still falling on us; it drips down my skin.
Tiny streams trickle from his nose, down his jaw, and I watch mesmerised as he devours me.
Every lazy swirl of his tongue teases the piercing, tugging just enough to drive me mad.
“Tell me, is this wetness from the rain… or just for me?”
“Definitely the rain,” I murmur, mischief lacing every syllable.
“You sure about that, my beautiful brat?”
Before I can answer, one of his hands slides away, and two fingers slip inside me without warning.
I arch with a pleasured gasp, my neck craning, caught between shock and pure, aching need.
He moves with a precision that makes me ache and whimper at the same time—the way he knows exactly what to do, exactly how to touch me, is maddening.
The fact that he's taking me like this on top of his car, in the middle of the deserted road, while rain pelts us, is like a drug. Every nerve in my body is alive, every heartbeat a mix of danger and desire, and I can't get enough.
“Hmm.” he lifts his fingers, letting them hover near my lips. “All wet for me. Taste yourself, princess. Taste how good you are… so I can get back to my meal.”
I take them eagerly, lips and tongue claiming every inch, the salty taste of myself hitting my tongue. He watches me excitedly, and just as I’m about to whine for more, he pulls back only to slide his tongue back exactly where I need it.
He's so damn good at that.
“So fucking delicious, I'm gonna need this morning and night. Fuck princess, you're soaking me. This pussy is so needy.”
I writhe against him, hips rolling into motion, wanting more—needing more.
His tongue plunges inside me again and again, circling, teasing, driving me higher, while his nose brushes against my clit with every thrust. That searing, building heat coils tighter with each growl he lets out, each low, guttural sound of him enjoying the way I taste under his control.
“Elijah.” I bite my lip, trembling.
“Let go for me. Now, princess.”
And I do, a loud, involuntary scream tearing from my throat as my legs quake, my body shivering with the force of it. He laps at me greedily, coaxing every last bit, and I squeeze my eyes shut, calling out to the dark sky above, lost in sensation.
Time blurs—seconds, minutes, it doesn't matter—until he eases me down, a cocky, satisfied grin spreading across his face. My release glistens on him, and heat rushes to my cheeks.
Before I can catch my breath, he pulls me up, lips soft and insistent on mine, chest pressing into me. His hardness is hard to ignore. I reach for him, desperate to feel, to give him a taste of what he's just done to me—but he stops my hand with a soft, firm grip.
“As much as I want to feel you wrapped around my cock. I need to get you home before you catch a cold.”
I pout, bottom lip jutting out, and he can't help but laugh.
“Don’t worry.” he scoops me up effortlessly. “You'll have plenty of time to have your way with me… but right now? I think you need a coconut latte.”
He winks, and I huff in mock annoyance, though heat blooms in my chest. I can't deny how much I love that he knows me—knows exactly what I want, what I need—without me having to say a word.
I know things are about to get more complicated. Messier. Harder in ways I can already feel creeping in around the edges.
But as I’m wrapped up in him and everything he makes me feel, I can't bring myself to care. Some things are worth the risk. And I’m almost certain… he’s one of them.