Chapter 32 #2
I swear I could kiss him and hours could pass by unnoticed, still, it would never be long enough.
I would never tire of the way he feels when his lips are on mine.
He pulls back just enough so that his forehead leans briefly against mine, and blood rushing in my ears is all I hear.
My body is on fire when he steps back, reaching for the bouquet under his arm.
“I brought these,” he says as he hands them to me.
“And your favourite questionable sweets are over there.” he nods toward the bag.
I grin. “They are not questionable.”
“They’re dyed plastic disguised as food,” he replies easily.
Twizzlers. He hates them. Claims they taste like plastic, which isn't true because I remember chewing on my dolls when I was little, and it is nothing like that. And yet he still buys them for me every single time he sees them.
Because he knows I love them.
This man is dangerous. It's not in the physical sense that he's dangerous; it's the way he has slowly attached himself to me, and what was once a hatred so deep I couldn't see a way out of it has become something akin to obsession; he's slowly becoming someone I can't see myself without. I’m falling for him in a way that feels irreversible, and I can't even stop it.
Truthfully, I don’t think I want to.
“Can I keep you?” I ask lightly, tilting my head.
“You might need to have a word with my other girlfriends.”
I gasp dramatically and shove him in the chest, laughing as I take the flowers “You're insufferable.”
The roses are pale pink, and I can't help but be a little speechless. Nobody has ever bought flowers for me, let alone such beautiful ones.
“You're amazing, you know that?” he says suddenly.
I pull the flowers to my chest. “Huh?”
“Your dancing,” he continues. “You're incredible. I can't believe I haven't been coming down here sooner to watch you. The way you flow with the music, lose yourself in the choreography- it's like watching a swan float across the lake, graceful and effortless.”
I know he means it.
“Well, you're here now,” I reply lightly, “Maybe next time, if you're lucky enough, I’ll dance for you, but I’ll leave the clothes behind.”
It's a joke. Mostly. Probably not.
I move toward the bag, leaving him standing and staring, looking lost for words. Setting the pink roses down as gently as possible to not crease their petals, next to my bag, I take a moment to breathe and gather my thoughts.
They are my favourites.
I’m not surprised that he remembers. One thing Elijah has consistently shown me is that he listens to every little detail I tell him.
Turning around to watch him, I tear open the packet of Twizzlers and bite into one.
“So good.”
He makes a disbelieving sound. “Like I said, terrible taste.”
“You can't be too opposed; you buy them for me all the damn time,” I shoot back.
“Yeah, because I like watching you eat something you enjoy.”
My insides flutter.
Damn him for saying things that rearrange my insides.
His gaze darkens slightly as I chew, sliding over me with that familiar hunger I've started recognising far too well.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
I pause. “What isn't?”
“You, dancing for me.”
“I literally just did.”
I head back toward the barre to stretch again, lifting my leg and leaning in to stretch, muscles pulling pleasantly under my skin. The mirrors reflect every movement of me and him watching.
Always watching.
“But you weren't naked,” he adds, voice rougher now, amusement and heat tangled together.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not getting naked in here.”
“Princess.” he bites his knuckles. “If you keep stretching like that in front of me, you might actually kill me.”
I smirk.
I know exactly what I’m doing to him, and I absolutely love it.
His pants are doing nothing to hide how much he's enjoying the view.
“Don’t look then.”
“Impossible not to.”
He's a man obsessed.
“Well, do you want to help instead?” I ask sweetly, glancing over my shoulder with innocent eyes.
He doesn't answer with words.
He's behind me in seconds, his large hands gripping my waist, and his body presses close behind me. His lips travel up my neck, warm breath brushing my skin before he presses a kiss just below my ear.
“Elijah,” I breathe, half warning, half already giving in.
He hums against my skin. “Yeah, princess? You want me to stop?”
I never, ever want him to stop touching me, so I shake my head briefly, and I feel him grinning.
“I think you wearing leotards is my second favourite thing,” he murmurs.
I drag in a shaky breath. “What’s your favourite?”
He nips lightly at the sensitive skin beneath my ear before speaking. “You wearing absolutely—” He drags his tongue along my neck. “Nothing.”
The burn in my leg from the stretch fades into nothing compared to the burning need I feel for him.
“Wait there.”
His warmth disappears from behind me, leaving my stomach tightening in protest, while my leg stays hooked high on the barre, muscles still stretched and trembling slightly from the position. I hear him move behind me, the sound of the plastic bag rustling.
I glance at him. “Are you going to feed me another?”
He steps back into place, his height and presence towering over me. I love the fact that he's so much taller than me; it makes me feel safe and protected.
His blue eyes lock onto mine in the mirror—bright and mischievous.
“No.”
He trails the Twizzler down my arm, watching my reaction.
“I’m going to see if I can make these taste better.”
I try to shift, instinctively chasing his touch, but he reacts instantly. His hand lands on my ass in a sharp, playful slap that makes me gasp and laugh at the same time. His other hand grips the back of my neck.
“I want you to stay right there. Can you do that for me?”
I nod immediately. Too quickly, probably. But I can't help it. I love when he's in control.
“Good girl.”
His voice goes deeper when he says it against my ear, rougher around the edges, and something inside me absolutely melts at the praise. I have the urge to turn in his arms and climb him like a tree, but I don't. I stay put, exactly where he wants me, even though it takes effort not to move.
I feel his hand travel down my spine, making goosebumps run across my skin. He traces the curve of my ass, then dips lower, teasing where I want him the most, even though the leotard keeps me covered.
He knows exactly what he's doing to me.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
I know I said I wouldn't get naked in here, but all of that flies out of the window. I want him. All of him. Every single, delicious inch. Even if I have to spend future classes completely distracted, imagining what he did to me.
“Yes,” I shift my hips. “Please, Elijah. Fuck me.”
He rubs his finger harder against my covered heat, sending shivers wracking through me.
“Hmm,” he hums. “I don't know if I should make you wait… tie you up at home, and have my way with you all night.”
Honestly, either option would be perfect. But he continues. “Unfortunately… River’s home tonight, so I can’t have you all to myself.”
Disappointment runs through me as I feel the wet fabric shift under his touch, and the Twizzler vanishes, sliding along me in a way that makes me moan, eyes closing at the foreign feeling. The teasing pressure has me wiggling as I feel it slip inside.
“I think you should fuck me now,” I whisper desperately, arching into him, letting my hips guide him as he pumps it in and out.
He makes a low, rumbling sound, then pinches my clit hard enough to make my breath snag in my chest. His fingers tug gently at my piercing, and my leg almost buckles.