Chapter 30
Willow
Watching him sleep is probably weird. Borderline serial-killer vibes, but it helps the thoughts inside my head.
Nights are usually the worst. That's when everything I've managed to outrun all day finally catches up. Grief doesn't knock—it just slides in beside me and makes itself comfortable. It tries to convince me that I’m all alone and that it's not worth living anymore, which did work.
Until Elijah.
Elijah has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known, even if he pretends he doesn't. He loves his family with a loyalty that borders on reckless. He makes me laugh when I don't want to. He knows exactly how to pull me out of my own head.
So yeah, maybe watching him like this is a little pathetic. Maybe it's too personal.
But it eases the ache.
As long as he wants me in his life—as long as he keeps reaching for me the way he does—I’ll stay. I’ll keep choosing him. Even on the hard days.
Especially on the hard days.
I’m also extremely sore; I can barely move without wincing. Every tiny movement reminds me of last night.
Or more accurately, when he finally stopped fucking me two hours ago.
Not that I’m complaining. Not even a little bit.
That man does not do anything halfway. His stamina is off the charts. The only break I got was to pee, and that was a struggle. And the way he uses his tongue? I should probably be sending it a thank-you card.
Elijah doesn't need a neon sign to find anything.
I try to roll onto my other side and immediately regret it, thighs protesting, hips aching in the most satisfying way possible. Honestly, I look like I've just completed an Olympic event I didn't train for.
So worth it.
If this is the price of being with a man like Elijah, then fine. I’ll pay it. I’ll just… maybe walk like a newborn deer for the rest of the day.
The sheets are tangled low around his hips, only just covering him, leaving the smooth lines of his stomach exposed. The faint definition of muscle, the steady rise and fall of his breathing as he sleeps.
I take in the small scar along his side, the one from when he had his appendix removed years ago. It's subtle, easy to miss, but I don't. I brush my fingers over it gently, almost reverently.
My touch drifts up his arm slowly, lazily, over the tattoos I spent a very enthusiastic amount of time kissing and licking last night. I can't help the small, private smile that tugs at my mouth at the memory.
His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, inked muscle shifting slightly in his sleep. I trace the lines of the designs absentmindedly, softer now than I was hours ago, when I was clinging to him, riding him, losing myself.
He still hasn't told me what the tattoos mean.
I have a vague idea; little pieces I've stitched together from comments he's made and the argument he and Rose had the other day. But I will never push him.
Elijah doesn't open doors unless he wants to. And for once in my life, I’m patient enough to wait until he's ready to hand me the key himself.
“You're being creepy.”
His voice is rough with sleep, low and husky, sending a warm ripple through me. I glance up at him. His eyes are still closed, but there's a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
I prop myself up on one elbow. “Correction. I’m not being creepy. I’m just… ogling.”
His tired gaze flicks toward me, which drags me back to the time I teased him for saying the same thing to me before it softens. Then, in a fluid, effortless motion, he pulls me on top of him.
My breasts press against his lightly-haired chest, and I nuzzle into him, inhaling the warmth and faint scent of him.
“And do you like what you see?” Fingers thread through my hair, tugging lightly.
“I really like it,” I reply, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “Really good for an old man.”
A sharp sting across my ass from his hand makes me moan, hips digging into him. Of course, I love the mix of pain and pleasure.
He grins, dark and wicked, leaning closer so I can feel the heat radiating off him. “It’s a good thing we have somewhere to be today. Otherwise, I’d have you on your knees, mouth full of my cock, and both your pretty holes stuffed until you forgot your own name.”
I swallow hard at the image, heart racing, because this man—and the way he talks—is absolutely lethal. Dangerous, and entirely irresistible.
His hands land on my ass again, lingering over the spots still tingling from last night's spankings. I can't stop the little shiver that runs through me, half anticipation, half memory, when one of his fingers drifts lower, teasing over my slick, still throbbing pussy.
“You're wet.”
I writhe against him. “And… very sore,” I admit, heat pooling deeper with every stroke of his finger.
His eyes narrow just a fraction, worry flickering across his features. “Did I hurt you?”
I give him a small smile, caught off guard by how gentle and caring he can be compared to… well, the absolute monster in the bedroom.
“No,” I murmur. “You could never hurt me. I loved everything about last night… honestly, that thing of yours is a bloody weapon.”
Leaning up on his elbows, eyes glinting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Slowly, he shifts, scooting up the bed until he's propped against the headboard—the same one I swear he nearly shattered last night, taking me from behind.
I can't even begin to count the positions he had me in last night.
“This wasn't a one-time thing, you know.”
Relief floods through me at his words. Elijah isn't the kind of man you can have just once and forget.
“I really hoped it wouldn't be,” I admit, voice soft, almost shy.
We've never really talked about this before—about us, about how much we pull toward each other—but it feels right.
Eyes lock with mine. “If it were up to me, I’d tell the whole world you're mine, and I’m yours. But… we've got others to think about too.”
My mind goes to River. God, River.
Nothing else about us would make me keep this quiet; only my brother stops us.
“I’m a terrible person,” I mumble, stomach twisting.
He cups both sides of my face, thumbs swiping over my cheekbones. “Far from it. Neither of us knew this would happen. But it did… and there's no way I’m giving you up. Not in this lifetime or any others.”
“I just want to give River some time to adjust to what's happened between Rose and me. And no matter what happens,” he continues, placing his rough hand over my chest, directly over my racing heart. “I’m always by your side, through the good days and the bad.”
I feel my chest tighten under his palm, every beat echoing through me. “I’m always by your side too,” I whisper, leaning in to brush my lips lightly against his.
A sly smile curls on my lips. “Maybe sneaking around will be fun for a little longer. Quinn is always going on about forbidden romances she likes to read.”
“So, she reads porn?” his brow lifts.
“I think she calls them smutty books,” I reply with a laugh. “And they can be quite eye-opening… definitely not worth almost going to jail over, though.”
He grins wickedly. “Oh yeah? Maybe you can borrow one sometime and read it to me while I fuck you?”
I squeeze my thighs around his, heat spilling between us. “Mmm, that sounds like fun.”
“Fucking you,” he rasps, hands gripping my sides, lips kissing my shoulder. “Is more than fun.”
I can't stop touching him, tracing his skin. He's right—being with him is more than pleasure.
“There's something I want you to know… about what I said the other day when Rose handed me the divorce papers.”
I pull back slightly. His blue eyes are clouded, the spark dimmed.
“I remember.”
He pushes a strand of hair back from his face. “Years ago, River was about ten. Rose told me she’d had a miscarriage, and I couldn't be there; I was out of town. But it wasn't a miscarriage. She had an abortion. Because the baby was a girl.”
That bitch. I can't fathom that kind of cruelty. That kind of calculated, selfish lie. “God… Elijah.”
“That's why it pissed me off so much when she insulted you that day- well, any day she does. She played on mental health to get what she wanted, and she lied to me over and over.”
I reach for him instinctively. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured, my heart aching for him.
He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just wanted you to know. That's all.”
I know telling me this couldn't have been easy, but he acts like it was. Child loss is a wound I've never had to carry, and yet… even though his loss was brief, it still took something from him. A piece of his heart he never got back.
“Thank you for telling me. But I—”
“What?” he asks, brows knitting.
I shrug, unable to meet his eyes fully. “It doesn't matter.”
He exhales. “You're wondering why I stayed after that?” His voice has a twinge of frustration, like he's annoyed with himself.
“Part of it was for River. And I did love her, at least for some time.
I just don't know when I stopped. I was an idiot. Plain and simple. My family hated her, Ezra despises her, and I think I was just lost for a long fucking time until—”
He stops, eyes locking on mine, dark and intense, as if searching me for understanding.
“Until?” I ask.
A beat passes. The room is quiet, only the rapid thrum of my own heartbeat and the weight of his.
“Until you,” he admits, and there's nothing forced about it. No hesitation, no artifice. Just the truth.
“In such a short time, you've turned my whole world upside down. Even though I knew you through River, I don't see you as his sister. I see you as a woman I've come to adore. One I can't imagine letting go of.”
The words settle over me like heat, like sunlight breaking through the clouds on a dull day.
I clear my throat. “You're not too bad yourself.” My words are light, though my chest twists with a hint of guilt I can't quite shake. Everything inside me feels messy.