Chapter 9
Aria
I’m in trouble.
Huge ass trouble.
The trouble isn’t because Santos left me with a complete stranger without so much as asking for a background check and now Elliot, said stranger, is kidnapping me or something.
I kind of wish that was the trouble I was in, because that would have been easier to navigate. Unfortunately, that isn’t what’s happening.
Instead of getting kidnapped and my body being chopped up into little pieces and discarded somewhere in the Nevada desert, I’m having the best time.
This weekend has been exciting and fun beyond measure, one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. But right now, right here, sitting with Elliot at a bar, a cup of ginger ale in my hand as I look to his blue eyes, is the absolute highlight of it all.
Which is why I’m in trouble. This guy is charming beyond belief, with a smile so damn gorgeous, I want to take a picture. Add all the butterflies he makes me feel every time his attention is on me, and I don’t want our time to end.
I’ve only full known the man for about an hour, and I want to keep him at my side always.
Pretty sure that is my sign to call for a head scan when I get home, because it’s not normal to fall for a guy this quickly. I’m all for a one-night stand, even a quickie in the bathroom, but this feels different. Very different. Natural, almost. Like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
In the fifty or so minutes we’ve been in this bar, we’ve talked about nothing and yet everything at the same time. It doesn’t feel like two people sizing each other up for sex or even a first date. It’s just natural.
“So what are you doing in Vegas?” I find myself asking after telling him about how Serena and I found ourselves on this girls’ trip. He also thought that douchebag of a donkey’s ass was a clever name for someone like Jeremy.
Before responding, Elliot handles his own glass of ginger ale– he said if I wasn’t drinking, neither was he– with two fingers before bringing it to his lips. Someone drinking from a glass shouldn’t be found sexy, yet here we are.
“My reasoning isn’t too exciting. I just came to meet with a seller about buying some property.”
“Are you looking to build a house here?” I ask, and I don’t miss the small tinge of disappointment at the fact that he might not live anywhere near Austin.
Not even two hours, Aria. You haven’t known this guy for two hours. You can’t be feeling disappointment.
Elliot shakes his head. “No house, though buying that kind of real estate here would be a good idea. It was actually property for a potential sports team.”
That makes me spit out my drink a bit and apparently clouds my judgment.
“A sports team? Are you rich?”
My eyes widen when the question reaches my ears. No fucking way did I just ask that. I cover my mouth, as if that is supposed to put the words back in.
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to ask that. Please do not answer that ridiculous question.”
Elliot looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. I just don’t know if it’s because I don’t seem to have a filter with what comes out of my mouth or because of the question itself.
Maybe the idea of being rich is funny to him. I know it is to me.
Kind of.
I can be someone’s sugar baby. He told me he’s twenty-seven; is that even old enough to be a sugar daddy? I’m twenty-eight; would I even qualify as a sugar baby? Since I’m older, would that make me a sugar cougar?
“What is your definition of rich?” The smirk on his face is so damn sexy.
“Do you have a trust fund with seven digits or more?” I really need to figure out a filtering system for my questions.
I wonder if all the alcohol I’ve consumed this weekend has finally gone to my head.
He looks like he is about to answer, but I shake my head.
“Sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. ”
He answers anyway, the smirk still very much present. “I indeed have a trust fund with seven or more digits.”
My mouth gapes, and my words come out almost on a whisper. “Then you’re rich.”
“Yes.” He takes a drink from his ginger ale, his eyes never leaving mine.
I get so lost in his gaze, I have to take a second to collect myself. “Do you already have a sports team, or is that something you are looking at buying too?”
His eyes brighten at my question just a bit. “No sports team yet.”
“So why buy the land?”
“Because I have hope my brother will one day want to buy one or build his own. If and when that happens, he’ll have a place to potentially make it happen.”
He’s buying land for his brother. I don’t know why, but knowing that makes me melt.
“I think that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Does he know?”
Elliot shakes his head, his smile falling a bit.
As much as my brain wants to ask why his smile fell, that is the one question I keep in. Thankfully. Reaching over, I place a hand on his forearm. “I’m sure when he finds out he will be extremely grateful. I know I would be.”
Elliot looks down at where my hand touches his skin, and within seconds, the smile comes back in full force, but with something else behind it.
“I suddenly have the need to buy you a piece of land so you keep looking at me like that.”
My face doesn’t waste any time going hot and without a doubt red as a freaking tomato, but I try to push away the shyness and embarrassment and meet his gaze straight on.
“Oh yeah? And how am I looking at you? You know, so I can file it away. One piece of land won’t be enough.”
He lets out a laugh, and I don’t miss how his hand comes to cover mine, his fingers drawing patterns on my skin. I like it way too much—so much that I kind of want him to drag me to bed so he can draw patterns all over my body.
“You are looking at me like,” he diverts my sex-filled thoughts just a bit, “I hung the moon or something.”
I look up at him from under my eyelashes. “Because not a lot of people would do that. Buy land for their brother. It shows me that not only you are a good guy, but…” I stop short, not knowing if I should continue.
Elliot urges me on. “But what?”
The words leave my mouth quietly. “That you care about others and you put their needs before yours if it means making them happy.”
“That is one mighty conclusion.” The distance between us closes, and it takes a whole lot of will to not close it completely and press my lips against his.
I can’t help but give him a smirk. “Given what I’ve seen tonight, it might be a true one.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just continues to stare at me, at my mouth, the slope of my neck, the angle of my shoulders, down to the valley between my breasts. I don’t know how long he looks at me, but with every passing second, I fight the urge to undress.
“What if I am those things?” His other hand travels to where mine lays against his arm, and he intertwines our fingers. “But what if I said there are times I’m selfish and want to take and keep everything to myself? What would you think of me then?”
The way he’s looking at me tells me it’s more than just a personality trait—he’s telling me he wants to be selfish with me, that he wants me all to himself.
“I would think it wouldn’t pull away from who you are. Everyone is selfish at times.”
His eyes move to look with my mouth. “And what if I say I wanted to be selfish with you tonight and make you mine, even if it was only for a few hours? What would you think then?”
What would I think.
Not what would I think of him.
This time, I let my mind speak freely.
“I would think, or I would say, that maybe you should carry me back to either one of our rooms and be as selfish with me as you want.”
If eyes could speak, I swear Elliot’s would let out a roar. They are full of hunger and lust, and it goes straight to my core.
The need to have his hands on me grows by the second, and I don’t know how much longer I can take sitting here while his eyes look at me like that. I feel like I’m about to break.
His hand tightens around mine. “As much as I want to carry you back to my room, how about something a little quicker?”
I lean forward, my lips nearly touching his ear. “The quicker the better.”
Elliot lets out a sound I think is supposed to be a growl, pulls me up from my seat, and within seconds, we’re leaving the bar.
* * *
I don’t know how it happened.
I don’t know how two people so damn horny for each other were able to not only make it out of a casino, but climb into a car miraculously waiting for them, sit next to each other while their thighs touched, drive to a different hotel, get out of the car, walk through a lobby, and make it into an elevator without ripping their clothes off.
I have no fucking clue how it was done, but it was, and I’m surprised.
As soon as we step foot into the elevator, I’m hyper aware of the small space and the fact that Elliot is standing way to close.
Our hands are still intertwined, and just the small connection, with all the possibilities that are to come, have me breathing heavy, so much so that the woman who gets off on the sixteenth floor gives me a look of worry, as if she’s afraid I’m going to drop to the floor or something.
Nope. Sorry, lady. I’m just trying not to jump the man standing next to me.
Once the elevator continues to climb, even though Elliot and I are the only ones in the steel cart, I don’t do what my body screams at me to do. Instead, I watch as we climb up and up until we reach the top floor.
The second the elevators doors open, I’m in his arms.
When I look up at him in confusion, he gives me a sly smile. “I told you I would carry you. I’m a man of my word.”
As we make our way down the hallway, I get a sense of déjà vu, like I’ve been here before. It’s not until we reach the door to his room that I let out a small laugh, one Elliot clocks as he shifts me to open the door.
“What’s so funny?” He smirks down at me, dropping me to the floor and dragging me into the room.
He really is rich-rich.