Chapter 61
CHAPTER
SIXTY-ONE
I roll over onto my other side, fighting to get comfortable on Elijah’s extra-firm, concrete slab of a mattress. It takes longer than I’d like, but eventually, my mind wanders enough that my lids grow heavy, and I drift into a dreamless nothing.
I’m dragged back into reality like a playground bully tugging my hair, except it’s just the sweet, devastatingly beautiful blond man tossing and turning on the air mattress below me.
“Elijah.”
“Hmm?” he asks, groggy.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
He pauses, shifting again, and the scraping sound of his body and sheets sliding against the plastic beneath him grates on my nerves. “Not particularly,” he says with a light chuckle that eases the annoyance bubbling inside me.
“Is there any particular reason you can’t sleep beside me, in your bed?” I ask, scooting closer to the window.
I watch with a grin as he scrambles from the air mattress, tossing his hulking frame onto the bed beside me.
“No cuddling, Elijah,” I warn, but my tone holds none of the sternness it once would have. Instead, it sounds more like a playful invitation.
The more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’ve grown to like—more than like—him, and my desire to be touched by him has been a shocking development.
He snickers beside me, scooting closer, throwing an arm around my waist, and nuzzling his face into my neck. “I think you like my snuggles more than you let on.” His voice is a husky whisper.
I half-heartedly shove at his arm, but he only tightens his grip. “Are you a puppy, Elijah?”
“A puppy?”
“Mm-hm, cuddly and in need of back rubs and scratches behind the ear.” I reach back, scraping my nails along his skin.
“Puppies bite,” he says, nipping at my neck.
My skin tingles. Goose bumps erupt on my flesh, and I arch against him.
“Y-you like that?” he rasps out, grazing my neck with his teeth once more.
A moan escapes me, and my nipples pebble.
What is happening to me?
He groans, the sound landing right between my thighs. His fingertips dig into me, and I wriggle against him.
“P-please, s-stop moving,” he begs.
I do, my back going rigid.
He shifts me to face him, cradling me against his chest. I feel so safe in his arms, his warmth and scent creating a cocoon just for me.
“I'm sorry,” I murmur. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just surprised. It—it felt so good.”
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
“And I want to make you feel good, Adhira. But not tonight. We're not alone, and you’ve had such a full-on day. It's not the time for what I want.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Let's just rest.”
I want to argue. A rebuttal sits on the tip of my tongue, but a recap of the day's events flashes behind my closed lids, and the words turn to ash in my mouth.
He's right.
Today has been so overwhelming, and as much as I want to drown in the pleasure I'm convinced only he can give me, we both need rest.
“You're right,” I whisper, sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck. My fingers tangle in the short strands at his nape. “Let's go to sleep, princess.”
His lips tilt up in a lopsided smirk, and I can't help but press my lips to his, a jolt of electricity radiating from the point of contact.
He gasps into my mouth, wide eyes meeting mine. My heart hammers against my ribs.
Holy hell. Did I just do that?
I try to pull away, but his gaze flashes with something new. An expression I've never seen before, and suddenly, his fingers are in my hair, tugging my mouth back to his.
He groans against my lips, eyes falling closed, and I let mine do the same, getting lost in the sensations swelling inside me.
It starts as quick, tentative kisses and becomes something all-consuming. His lips mould to mine, tongue lashing out, pleading for entrance.
I oblige, tangling my tongue with his. Our teeth clash as we stumble through it, and he guides me onto my back, bracketing my face with his forearms. My legs wind around his waist, and I allow myself to get lost in this. In him.
We take our time, exploring each other's mouths, becoming acquainted with the brushing of our noses, and learning what just the right pressure is.
All the while, fireworks dance beneath my skin, and I come alive beneath him, somehow both winding down into a blissful calm and climbing high on the edge of ecstasy.
When we've had our fill, we break away with panted breaths and foreheads pressed together.
“That was—”
“Everything,” I finish for him.
He cups my cheek tenderly, lowering himself down beside me.
“You are everything, Adhira.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, whether from his soft-spoken words or his gentle caress, I can't be certain.
“Elijah,” I whisper.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Thank you for not leaving me.”
My emotions have shifted so fiercely that I'm barely hanging on from the whiplash, but I need him to know. To know how much I appreciate him. His friendship. His massive heart and that radiant smile that fixes my worst days. The quiet comfort he provides, and the patience he’s taught me to grant myself too.
“Never, Adhira. I'll never leave you. Not as long as you want me around.”
The cruelty of that promise settles in, mingling with the understanding that I want his words to ring true.
I don't ever want him to leave me—to stop wanting me.
But what if my next scans don't yield the results I so desperately need?
What if we both want each other, but I'm not around to make sure he knows it?
“Breathe, baby. Please, take a breath.” Warm palms press against my cheeks, my lids falling shut as I draw in a breath. “What's going on, sweetheart?”
Tears stain my cheeks, and he runs his thumbs beneath my eyes to wipe them away, but they won't stop.
“I–I think I'll always want you around, Elijah.” A sob tears free. “But what if I'm not here to give you that future?”
I blink my eyes open, lashes heavy with tears as I gaze into his water-logged eyes. His lip quivers, and he clenches his eyes shut, choking on a sob.
Few things have ever hurt the way watching this man fall apart does. I latch onto him, clutching him to my chest as tightly as I can, giving him the kind of comfort he so clearly needs.
He presses his face to my shoulder and cries with me—for a future I’m only just allowing myself to want, and realising I may never be able to give him.
“I'm so sorry,” I murmur, running my fingers through his waves. “I'm so, so sorry.”
His only answer is his hold tightening around me and the breath that heaves from his lungs.
When his breaths start to even out and the tears on my cheeks have dried, I sit up, grasping his hand and tugging him with me. He follows me to the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid when I instruct him to.
I turn on the shower, making sure the water is warm enough before I approach him. Standing between his legs, I grip his chin and tilt his head back so he has to look up at me.
“I can't promise you a future, Elijah. Not yet.” He blinks back new tears. “But I can promise not to hold back anymore. To make sure you know just how much I want you around. And to take care of you like you care for everyone else.”
He winds his arms around my waist and presses his cheek to my belly. “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me, Adhira. I think I've been yours since the first moment we met.”
“It was the bunny slippers, wasn't it?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Definitely your cute little scowl.” His chuckle is low and watery, and it tears a fissure through my heart.
This man deserves every ounce of happiness the world has to offer, and if I’m the one he wants to provide that for him, I'm determined to do so with whatever time I have left. Whether that be one year or a hundred.
Because even if I don’t yet have the right words for this light, warm, and soft feeling in my chest, I do know that even when I'm dying, Elijah has always made me feel alive. I'd love nothing more than to give him a taste of that too.
“Lift your arms.”
He complies, and I tug on the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and exposing all of his taut, suntanned muscles.
“Now stand.”
Again, he makes no argument, towering over me.
My hands tremble as I raise them to his waistband, his hands falling over mine and halting my movements.
“Adhira.” The word is barely a breath.
“We're both a mess, and the hot water will help us sleep.” I meet his gaze as his hands fall away, providing silent consent. “Let me take care of you.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
I make quick work of tugging his shorts over his hips and down his muscular thighs, leaving him in nothing but his black briefs before stripping down to my knickers.
He reaches for my hand, clasping it in his, and we step into the tiled shower together, standing beneath the warm stream.
Wet fabric clings to my hips, a sensation that repulses me, but this moment isn't about me. It's about Elijah and his need to feel cared for, to feel loved. I won't ruin that in an attempt to ease my own discomfort.
My thinning hair falls over my shoulders, covering my breasts. I reach for his shampoo, squirting a dollop into my palm.
“You'll have to bend down if—”
He lowers himself to his knees, wrapping his arms around my thighs and pressing the softest kiss below my navel.
He's beautiful like this.
Elijah is always beautiful. But on his knees, in quiet surrender as he allows someone else to care for him just this once, his mossy-green eyes are so much more vibrant with the contrast of the whites shot through with red. It's almost too much. Too raw, too broken, and painfully gorgeous.
I take my time running my fingers through his roots, massaging his scalp.
I feel the tension in his muscles ease with every press of my fingers, and it loosens something coiled deep inside me to know that I'm helping him.
Even if I'm ultimately the cause of his pain.
This soothes some of his hurt, and that's more than I feel I've done in a long time for anyone. Including myself.
When I've rinsed his hair with the shower head and conditioned the ends, I have him stand and face away from me. He jolts at the first press of my soapy hands to his shoulders, but they quickly sag as I run my hands over the broad expanse of muscles, digging my thumbs into each knot.
We take turns exploring each other. Running sud-covered hands over one another, gasping when something feels perfectly right.
I revel in his contented sighs and murmurs of appreciation. And when we're both as clean as we can be, I rise onto my toes and wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tight as he falls apart one more time.
He tries to apologise for his emotions, but I shush him, begging him to take what he needs. Asking him to let me be here to pick up some of his broken pieces when he's done.
It's not until our fingers have turned to prunes that we exit the shower, wrap ourselves in towels, and slip back into his room.
He pulls a shirt from his dresser and stands before me, tugging it over my head before grabbing a fresh pair of briefs for himself.
He slips into the bathroom to change, and I slide my knickers off, depositing them with the towel into his laundry hamper before climbing back beneath the thick, dark-blue duvet.
He returns a moment later, sliding in behind me and locking my back to his chest with a heavy arm thrown over me. He presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
“Goodnight, princess,” I tell him.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies, pressing another kiss to my bare shoulder this time, where his shirt has slipped off me.
Our legs tangle together, his warmth settling into my chilled skin like a giant heated weighted blanket. Exhaustion tugs at me, pulling me into Elijah’s comforting embrace.
He snuggles further into me, his arm tightening around my waist, and heat blooms in my chest and low in my belly. I’m more comfortable than I’ve been in ages, and while I stand by my belief that couples should have their own rooms, I won’t deny this is rather nice too.
His breathing changes, evening out and growing shallow, his muscles melting into bonelessness.
My lids grow heavy, and I feel the pull of sleep, but not before Elijah’s drowsy voice caresses my ear, leaving me with a thought sure to result in sweet, gentle dreams.
“Don’t we make the cutest couple?” he teases drowsily.
And if I were to provide an answer, it would be an enthusiastic yes.