CHAPTER NINE #2
“Elliot, stop!”
Heat explodes across my cheeks so fast it feels like spontaneous combustion.
“Oh, but it’s just getting good.” His eyes gleam molten gold in the sunlight, sparkling with pure trouble. Wind ruffles the dark curls at the top of his head while the ocean breeze carries the scent of salt and sunscreen around us.
“You are absolutely insufferable.”
“And yet you keep talking to me.”
“I’m talking at you.”
“Mhm.” He flips the page theatrically. “She willed him to know… willed him to see her own desire… willed him to hold her, kiss her—”
I lunge for the book.
Elliot laughs and steps backward easily out of reach, barefoot in the sand like the universe personally designed beaches for him.
“Give it!”
“Come and get it, lass.”
“Oh my goddess, you are not Scottish.”
“Ye wound me.”
I take another determined step toward him and immediately regret every life decision that brought me to this exact moment.
My foot lands squarely on a thick strip of seaweed hidden beneath the sand.
The world tilts.
A very undignified squeak escapes me as my arms pinwheel wildly.
“Oh shi—”
I careen forward.
Elliot’s grin vanishes instantly. He tosses the book aside and catches me before I can fully face plant into the sand, one arm wrapping securely around my waist while the other grasps my wrist.
For one dizzy second, everything stills.
The crash of the waves fades beneath the rush of blood in my ears.
Warmth radiates through every place he touches me.
His chest is solid under my palms, sun-warmed skin and seawater and something distinctly him surrounding me until I can barely think straight.
A breeze stirs the umbrella behind us, fabric fluttering softly overhead.
Somewhere nearby, Mango chirps indignantly from the sand, probably offended the chaos isn’t about him for once.
Elliot clears his throat.
Our faces are only inches apart.
Too close. Way too close.
I can’t stop staring at him.
At the sharp line of his jaw dusted with dark stubble. At the tiny scar near his chin I hadn’t noticed before. At the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
But it’s his expression that traps me.
Not teasing. Not smug.
Intense.
Like he’s forgotten how to breathe too.
“Elliot…” His name leaves me softer than I intended, almost carried away by the wind.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
And suddenly I’m painfully aware of everything.
The way his hand spans my waist. The heat pooling low in my stomach. The fact that if he leaned down even slightly…
He does.
Slowly. Tentatively. Giving me every chance to pull away.
My heart stutters so hard it hurts.
“Tell me now… if ye wish me tae stop, lass.”
The terrible fake Scottish accent completely shatters the moment.
I stare at him in disbelief. Of all the ways to ruin a moment. Not that I wanted a moment like this with his infuriating sea lion self. Even if his abs did look lickable.
“You’re such an ass.”
The insult comes out breathless instead of sharp.
Elliot’s mouth curves into a crooked grin, entirely too pleased with himself.
“A devastatingly handsome ass.”
“Debatable.”
“You were literally seconds away from swooning into my arms.”
“I was falling.”
“Into my arms.”
“I slipped on seaweed and loose beach sand!”
“And who heroically saved you?”
“You are never going to let this go, are you?”
“Absolutely not.”
Groaning, I shove his chest and step backward before my brain can fully process how good he felt holding me.
My entire body burns beneath the summer sun, and not entirely because of the heat.
Elliot watches me carefully, amusement still lingering in his expression, but softer now.
Like he noticed it too.
Which is somehow infinitely worse.
Behind us, Mango finally reaches the discarded romance novel, climbing triumphantly onto it like he personally conquered the Highlands.
“Well,” Elliot drawls lightly, glancing toward the lizard, “looks like the dragon has claimed your smut.”
“His name is Mango. And it’s not smut.”
“Mhm. Right. Very literary.”
“It has plot.”
“So did that scene, apparently.”
I snatch the book before Mango can chew the corner and clutch it protectively to my chest. Not that he’d ever eaten a book before, but the poor thing had already been through enough, corners bent from being tossed around in the sand like a discarded sock.
“You are banned from reading over my shoulder forever.”
“That sounds suspiciously like flirting.”
I roll my eyes as I smooth out the bent corners and stomp over to my towel. Even though it took the hit instead of me, every crease feels like a personal insult.
“If you thought that was flirting, you sound suspiciously like heat stroke.”
Elliot laughs, low and warm, and annoyingly enough, the sound settles somewhere deep inside me like it belongs there.
“Come on, Wren. Live a little. I was just teasing you.”
“What are you doing out here, Elliot? Really?” I toss my book into the bag and begin packing up my stuff.
“I was being honest when I said I was out enjoying the surf. Then I saw your bright pink umbrella over here and figured I’d come see if you’d made any progress on the books I brought you.”
Just as the last words leave his mouth, the wind picks up, carrying sea spray that soaks us both even though we’re yards away from the ocean’s edge.
“I’m going to take that as a no.”
“It’s none of your business.” I turn and begin marching up the path back toward the house when he catches me by the wrist, spinning me around to face him.
“If you don’t want my help, then at least don’t ignore my advice.
” Elliot’s voice softens, losing the teasing edge it usually carries.
“Read the books. Seek someone else’s help if that’s easier.
There are plenty of magical beings here who’d help you in a heartbeat.
” His gaze searches mine, vulnerable now. “If you don’t trust me.”
If you don’t trust me.
The words settle heavily between us, deeper than they should for someone I’ve only known a handful of days.
A low crack of thunder rumbles overhead.