Chapter 16
Vaughn
Back at home, Eli suggests we cook dinner together.
We haven’t eaten Wu Chows since we made ourselves sick on it when we were trying to get rid of the barrels of leftovers he saddled us with.
Normally, Eli just goes into the kitchen and makes something out of nothing.
I offer to help, but he likes to serve me, and who am I to say no?
But I think it’s time to flex on this God among men.
Eli’s opening cabinet doors, looking perplexed, and then closing the cabinet doors.
When his perusal is complete, he claps his hands together and says, “Grocery delivery, shall we?” We both have vehicles other than the bikes, but Eli’s truck isn’t here, and my car, although it is a very normal sized car despite what Eli says, doesn’t accommodate the girth of Eli. So, delivery it is.
Eli meets the delivery girl at the door with a tip and grabs the bags from her hands.
I watch as cartoon hearts float from her eyes, and her literal heart thuds against her chest in true Bugs Bunny fashion with just a single glimpse of those dimples.
He really should be more careful with those things.
He flashes them with no regard for the effect they have on the unsuspecting public.
Meanwhile, this poor girl is about to get behind the wheel while full-on dimple drunk.
“Okay, gorgeous. Time to cook. We’re going to make Dorito Chicken. You ever had it?”
“Ah no. Can’t say that I have. What’s in Dorito Chicken apart from the obvious Dorito’s and chicken?”
“Hmmm let’s see there’s cream of mushroom, cream of chicken, Rotel, and shredded cheese. Put all that in the oven at 350 until the cheese is melted. Then, VOILà. Crunchy, savory goodness.”
“Hmpf. Sounds simple. I can do that.” Granted, my cooking attempts in the past have not turned out exactly as planned, but none of those instances were my fault.
I swear the universe has conspired against me in the kitchen.
If it’s not the doorbell ringing and pulling my focus, it’s a spice that I could swear was something different only moments before.
Anyway, I’m going to rock this chicken chip dinner.
“Hmm, is that Indian food?”
Eli sounds confused. That makes two of us. “Is what Indian food?”
His glare becomes accusatory. “That smell, Vaughn. Why do I smell Indian food?”
The audacity of that accusation. We’re in the living room sitting on the sofa, and.
..well, technically I’m sitting on Eli’s lap, and he is sitting on the sofa.
He seems to think that, since I’ve made the first move in physical contact, we need to remain physically connected at all times.
Particularly, he thinks I need to be in his lap.
The only time I can sit on a surface that is not him is when we’re on the bikes.
Any other time, he picks me up like I’m an emotional support animal and places me in his lap.
I huff every time, but you haven’t known comfort until you’ve been in this man’s lap wrapped up in these tattooed arms. It’s like he worked these leg muscles to the exact specifications needed to cradle my ass.
“How is your faulty sniffer my fault?”
Eli moves me swiftly to the empty seat beside him, and my butt cheeks feel the loss. The sofa doesn’t welcome me in the same way Eli does.
He jogs to the kitchen and quickly slings the oven door open.
Dark clouds and a pungent odor permeate the room.
Ah, yes. I get it now. Indian food. Little bit of char aaaaand.
...ah that’s the chili powder. Damn it! I thought that it would improve the overall aesthetic of the dish.
So I guess that dark cloud was something more like smoke? Perfect.
“You improvised?’ Eli’s hands are on his hips, and he’s staring down at what used to be a cheese topping.
“Just a little.” I mean if it’s fifteen minutes at 350, aren’t eight minutes at 500 basically the same thing?
His lips smack, and he slowly nods his head, still not looking away from the chip-chicken brick.
“Welp, how does takeout from Cooper’s sound?”
“You’re not mad?” My voice is meek and unsure.
Eli turns toward me and quirks a grin.
“Somehow, this just makes you even more endearing.”
“Come on. You can tell me when I’ve annoyed you. My skin isn’t thin.”
He walks up to me and, before I can react, he grips the back of my thighs, lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. A high-pitched squeal escapes me as he captures my lips in a sweet and soulful kiss.
“I won’t pretend to know how this thing works, Little Devil.
All I know is, everything you do makes me want more of you.
Even the crazy stuff. The more time I spend with you, the more time I need with you.
When I’m not with you, I’m planning what we’ll do when we’re together again.
I want to know everything about you, Vaughn, and I want to share parts of myself with you that I can’t even fully face myself. ”
My dumbfounded stare makes him smile, and the dimples are on full-out panty-melting display.
“First of all, crazy stuff?”
His chin tips down in a ‘you know what I’m talking about here’ gesture. He positions one hand across my opposite ass cheek so that he can hold me up while ticking off points with the other hand.
He holds up his thumb for point number one, “You drugged me on our first date-”
My race to cut him off is the maddest dash I’ve ever made. “First date?!? I was at work, and you drugged yourself-”
“Semantics.” Eli’s quick with this one and immediately resumes ticking off points with his index finger, representing number two.
“Your best friends are the result of either a staged process where twins were prearranged in a failed attempt to cure seriousness or a cloning experiment that did NOT go off without a hitch.”
“That’s fair.”
One corner of Eli’s lips curves upward, and he looses his middle finger to join the count as point three. “You carried a high stranger into your apartment immediately after meeting him.”
My chin drops, and my eyes narrow on this man who is the sole reason for the majority of my ‘crazy stuff’.
The ring finger joins in. “You manipulated me into breaking and entering.”
Can’t argue that one. Desperate times.
Finally, the thumb-sized pinky finger. Point five. “You almost put Wu Chow’s in the freaking microwave.”
A laugh bubbles up out of my traitorous lips.
“Okay, moving past the ‘crazy stuff’ comment.” I put the words crazy stuff in finger quotes since that was an obvious stretch on his part.
“So, what you’re saying is,” I use my fingers to start counting off points in the same fashion he did earlier.
“You want to spend all your time with me”.
I pause, giving him time to object before continuing with point two.
“You love everything I do.” Another pause.
No objections. “You’re willing to commit crimes if it makes me happy.
” Pause. Nothing. “You want to teach me skills and share every part of yourself with me.” Does he see where I’m going with this?
“You want to know everything about me.” This last pause is heavy and dramatic on my end, but he remains rock steady and attentive.
He doesn’t see the obvious thing here? I search his eyes for the clue that he clearly hasn’t caught.
“Okay then. Sounds good. Now, what about this position we’re in?
I thought I was taking the lead with all physical interaction. ”
“You are and you did. We’ve already been in this position before. In the pool. A position initiated by you. Now it’s fair game on this position and all related contact.”
My eyebrows go up in a ‘well you’ve got me there and you’re obviously keeping score’ expression.
“Hmmm. So, I start it...and then you keep it going?”
His head bobs side to side. “Essentially...yes. I told you...you’re setting the pace. You’re the boss...for now.”
“For now?”
His warm rumble of laughter would melt my resolve if I had any left for this man. I’m pretty much just sarcasm and putty at this point.
“Yes. Little Devil. For now.”
The tenor of his voice, the feverish look in his eyes, and the tightening of his grip on my ass have my skin tingling and every nerve ending in my body coming to life.
“Hmm. And we’re in a relationship, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Uh huh. And how long have we been in this relationship?”
“Our first date was June 16th. Our first tiff was June 17th. Our first makeup was also on June 17th. We’ve been together for almost two months now, with July 16th being our one-month anniversary. I brought you coffee, breakfast, and that new release from Emily McIntire. Still waiting on my gift.”
I want to not smile. My mouth just has other ideas. How is anyone not smiling right now? I mean, am I the only one who heard that? This man is completely...he hasn’t even realized it himself, so I’m not going to be the one who tells him.
“Two months, you say.”
“Almost.” He looks wary. He’s obviously wondering what I’m getting at.
I’m looking directly into his eyes, and I give him a slight, sly smile before bringing both hands to his chest. His heart picks up speed beneath my palms as my heart joins the race.
We’re both looking down at my hands flat on his chest. He’s wondering where they’ll go next, while my mind has already been made up.
My hands slowly trail down and around to his back and the hem of his shirt.
Eli’s eyes dart back up to mine, and I’m ready to catch his gaze.
There’s a question there. An ‘are you sure’.
My answer to the question he didn’t voice comes when I tug up on the hem of his shirt, freeing even the front hem that was trapped between my thighs and his body.
He’s still holding me. Supporting me so that I can make whatever move I may. Here goes the next move...