Chapter 19
Willow
Elijah guides me into his office and closes the door behind us. The soft click echoes in the sudden quiet. I watch him turn, my body tensing as his attention settles fully on me.
He looks unfairly good today. The black cap is turned backwards, which should honestly be illegal.
His forearms are thick and veined as he crosses them, ink spiralling over muscle, and the black T-shirt clings to his chest like it's got a personal vendetta against my concentration.
His trousers fit perfectly, tailored in a way to showcase his very muscled thighs.
Damn him for looking so good.
“Are you going to tell me why you were standing out there freezing instead of coming inside?” he asks, concern threading through his voice. “I could've picked you up if you told me.”
Because I’m an idiot who overthinks.
I want to tell him that I didn't want to ring, just in case he was with Rose.
I shift my weight, suddenly very aware of my hands, my breathing, everything.
Instead, I lift a shoulder, forcing a small, casual shrug that fools absolutely no one. “Didn't want to bother you.”
He walks toward me, gradually backing me up against his work desk. I end up slumping against the edge, which only makes me feel shorter and more exposed. He doesn’t stop, invading my personal space, and when I try to look away, his hand comes up, firm yet gentle, tilting my chin back toward him.
“Try again, or do I need to tickle it out of you?”
I don't even get a chance to tell him not to before he lightly prods my side. I flinch instantly, a laugh slipping out because I’m ticklish everywhere.
“Elijah,” I warn, already smiling. “That’s cheating.”
He does it again, quick and teasing, and I squirm, trying to scoot away. “It's stupid,” I blurt.
He stops instantly.
“Nothing you ever say is stupid,” he says, without hesitation. I open my mouth to argue, because obviously I beg to differ, but he cuts me off gently. “Now tell me what's making you sad, so I can make it better.”
My shoulders sag, tension draining out of me like he's pulled a plug somewhere deep inside me. I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. I want to forget what Rose said and forget about the doubt swirling at the back of my mind.
And because I’m me, my mouth starts moving before my brain can catch up.
“Rose basically lost it with me today. She noticed neither of us was home last night. I told her I got drunk and you picked me up like the caring, responsible adult you are.” I huff softly. “Which… wasn't exactly a lie. You did pick me up.”
I pause, then wince. “I just left out the part where you confessed your feelings and then ate me out like a champ.”
His brow creases, but he doesn't interrupt, just watches me like he's hanging on every word. I don't miss the grin he's trying to hold back, though.
“She knew you weren't at work or at your parents', so I had to say something.
Then she got into my head, saying the only reason you're being so nice is because you feel guilty about my dad.
That you're just trying to make yourself feel better.
That no one could ever really care about me, and that this guy she's trying to set me up with is basically my best shot.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Then she said you crawled into her bed last night and that she was coming here to see you today because you're finally ‘working on your marriage’.”
I suck in a breath, finally stopping, gripping the edge of the desk. He's staring at me, stunned, like he's trying to process all of it at once.
“Sorry,” I mumble quickly. “I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I know. It's cute.”
His hand comes up to the side of my neck, settling my nerves instantly.
“Now listen to me. I care about you because you're you. Not because of Leo.” His thumb brushes my jaw. “Yes, I feel guilty about the past. I always will. But what I feel for you, what I choose with you, has nothing to do with that.”
My chest tightens.
“You're an incredible woman,” he continues, softer now. “And yeah, I even like your bratty side.”
“I’m not bratty,” I cut in automatically.
He smirks and nudges forward, just enough to steal my breath. “So fucking bratty.”
Heat enveloped my face.
“And I was not in her bed last night. I’m not working on our marriage. I've got about a hundred copies of the divorce papers sitting on my desk, waiting to be signed.”
I listen to everything he says, carefully.
His hand threads through my hair, his fingers tangling effortlessly as if it’s second nature to him. He leans in, close enough for me to feel his warm breath against my skin when he speaks again, carrying the faint sweetness of chocolate.
“Do you know what I was doing last night?” he asks roughly.
I lick my lips, suddenly unable to form words, and shake my head.
“I was fucking my hand thinking about you.” he pulls me tighter against him.
“When you moaned my name, coming on top of my car as I sucked your clit. How badly I wanted you all night. I wanted to go to your room and eat your pretty little pussy. Make you scream my name as I fucked each of your holes.”
The way he says it totally made me weak in the knees because I really wanted that too. The idea of him wanting me like that, of him taking control so easily, sends heat rushing through me until my thoughts scatter completely.
He lifts me onto his desk without effort.
“I told you last night, you're mine. Every single part of you.”
His lips brush my ear, voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous.
“Here's what's going to happen.” His mouth trails my neck.
“You're going to get on your knees like the good girl you are and put that bratty mouth to use.” A soft nip at the sensitive spot on my neck makes me shiver before he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Then just when I’m about to come down your throat, you'll let me fuck your tits till I make a mess of you. How does that sound?”
I nod.
I want that more than anything. To be used by him and only him.
Elijah stills. “I need more than a nod. I need to know you're okay with this, and if not, we stop. We go home, put a film on and eat them, shitty sweets you like so much.”
I don't let him finish, even though his words melt my heart. Instead, I kiss him—hard and confidently—and his lips respond to mine. Everything he has said, everything he has promised, feels right. There’s no hesitation in me at all.
I pull back, my forehead brushing his. “You're not going to fuck me?” I whisper, voice rough with want.
He chuckles low against my mouth. “The first time I take your sweet pussy, it won't be in my office on my desk.”
I tilt my head, a slow, cheeky smile playing on my lips. “It could be hot.”
“Oh, it would be. But when I fuck you, I want you comfortable. I want to take my time and make it last.”
His hands skim my sides. “My bed. No rushing. No interruptions,” I feel him brush under my chin before he presses a kiss to my nose. “This body deserves to be worshipped.”
The promise in his voice lingers long after his lips leave my skin.
My eyes go wide as it hits me—I actually just asked him to fuck me, even with how reckless I’ve been since my dad died.
I chew my lip, and he immediately smooths it over with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammer, voice catching. “I asked you to fuck me, and I haven't even been tested for… You know, STDs. Oh my god, I’m such an idiot, and you've obviously been with my… Rose.”
No. Just no. I cannot think about that.
“Okay. Calm down before you stop breathing or your head explodes. It's okay.”
“It's not okay! I've been such a slut.”
“Hey,” he snaps lightly, gripping my hands, stopping me from picking at the skin again. “You are not a slut. You did what helped you get through a difficult time. Stop punishing yourself.”
I shudder at his words, the tension easing just a little. He continues. “I haven't been with Rose in a year, and even though the thought of any other man touching you kills me, it happened. The only one touching you from now on… is me. And if you're worried, all you need to do is get tested.”
“Okay… okay, you're right. But…” I release a shuddering breath. “You haven't been with her?”
His mouth twists, a sour edge creeping in. “Bit of a turn-off when you see her whoring herself out to anyone with a cock.”
That woman must be blind and stupid to look at him and want anyone else.
Lucky for me, though. I get the benefits of her stupidity.
“Are we good now?” he searches my face. “Is everything clear?”
I let out a shaky laugh, the last of the panic bleeding out of me. “Yes, sir.”
The reaction is instant and unexpected.
His eyes flare, pupils blown wide; his hand comes up, fingers closing around my throat. Not tight. Not rough. Just enough to make me embarrassingly wet.
“Say that again.”
My lips part. “Yes, sir.”
He kisses me like it's inevitable. His mouth is hot and demanding, teeth catching my lower lip, and suddenly I’m dizzy.
It feels so right to be claimed by him.
“Remember that I like you a whole lot.” he pulls back to grab the hoodie from his chair and lays it on the floor, his heated look never leaving me.
“Kneel for me, princess.”
I don't hesitate for a second
I slip off his desk and kneel before looking up at him. “I still hate the nickname.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you insist on calling me it?”
He lifts his cap to run his fingers through his dark hair before putting it back into place. “Because it gets a rise out of you, and you look insanely cute when you're annoyed.”
I swat at him, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck, and then—without warning—his hand grips a fistful of my hair and tugs it back just enough to send a delicious sting through my scalp.
“You look so damn good on your knees.”
“So did you last night.” I tease him because he really did look good on his knees for me.
“I’ll get on my knees any day for you. Now, jacket off and arms up.”