Chapter 19
Elara woke up and did what she always did.
Turned over in bed. Hard. The way she’d been doing for five years in her tiny apartment where rolling too far meant hitting the floor.
She braced for impact.
Nothing.
She was still on the bed. Soft. Too soft. Her mattress at home felt like sleeping on cardboard. This felt like clouds.
Her eyes opened slowly.
White ceiling. Too high. Expensive–looking light fixture hanging down.
This wasn’t her apartment.
Elara shot up in bed. Looked around. The room was huge. Minimal furniture but everything looked like it cost more than her rent. Floor–to–ceiling windows showing the city below.
No. No no no.
Where the hell was she?
Her dress. The emerald one from last night. It was hung carefully on a hanger hooked to the closet door.
She looked down at herself.
White t–shirt. Way too big. Barely covering her thighs.
No bra.
No underwear.
Oh God.
Did Marcus change her clothes? Had he seen her naked? Touched her? She tried to remember last night. Dinner. The platform. Coming back down. Walking to the car. Then nothing.
Blank.
Shit shit shit.
Her heart was racing. She needed to get up. Find her phone. Figure out what happened.
She swung her legs out of bed and stood. Her hair was everywhere. A complete mess. She gathered it into her hands and
twisted it into a bun, Messy. Didn’t care.
Bathroom. She needed the bathroom.
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Chapter 19
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She found it attached to the bedroom. All marble and glass. A shower big enough for four people. On the counter sat a new toothbrush still in its packaging.
For her, probably.
Elara ripped it open and brushed her teeth. Splashed water on her face. Looked at herself in the mirror.
You’re in the Devil’s house wearing his t–shirt with no underwear on.
Great. Just great.
She used the toilet and washed her hands. Took a breath.
Okay. Go downstairs. Find out what happened. Act normal.
She opened the bedroom door and walked into a hallway that was bigger than her entire apartment. Followed it to a
staircase that curved down to the main floor.
And that’s when she saw him.
Marcus. Standing in the kitchen. White t–shirt stretched tight across his chest. She could see everything. His muscles. The
shape of his chest. Even his nipples pressing against the fabric.
Grey sweatpants. Sitting low on his hips.
And his dick.
Oh my God, his dick.
The sweatpants weren’t tight but they weren’t loose enough to hide anything. She could see the print. The length. The
thickness. The ridge of the head. Even the veins running along the side.
Heat flooded between her legs.
Her nipples went hard instantly. Pressed against the t–shirt she was wearing. And she felt it. Wetness. Actual wetness starting to drip down her inner thigh.
No. Not now. Stop.
Elara squeezed her legs together. Crossed them. Tried to walk down the stairs like everything was normal.
She made herself move slowly. One step. Two steps. Hips swaying slightly because that’s what happened when you walked down stairs with your thighs clenched together.
Like a runway model. Except she was doing it to keep from leaving a wet spot on his floor.
Marcus looked up.
His eyes went straight to her chest. Lingered there for half a second too long. Then dragged down to her legs. Back up to
her face.
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His dick moved. She watched it happen. Saw it twitch and start to grow against the grey fabric.
He turned away quickly. Faced the counter.
Good. Don’t make him more embarrassed.
Elara forced herself to keep walking. Into the kitchen. Onto one of the stools.
He made coffee. Set it in front of her. Leaned against the opposite counter like he needed the distance.
She wrapped both hands around the mug. Took a sip. The heat helped. Grounded her.
But all she could think about was him. That body. That dick print burned into her brain.
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What would it feel like to reach across this counter and pull him toward her? To kiss him right here in this kitchen with the morning light coming through the windows?
To have him lift her onto the marble and spread her legs. No foreplay. Just him pushing inside her while she grabbed his
shoulders and tried not to scream.
Morning sex on this counter wouldn’t be bad. It would be insane. Amazing. The kind of thing she’d think about for weeks.
They’d done it once already. In the fire exit. Fast and desperate and so good she’d barely been able to walk after.
This could be better. Slower. He could take his time. Make her come twice before he even thought about himself.
“Elara?”
She blinked. Marcus was staring at her.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you wanted food.”
“Oh. No.”
He nodded. Stayed where he was. Too far away. Like he didn’t trust himself to get closer.
Smart man.
Because if he came any closer, Elara wasn’t sure she could stop herself from doing something incredibly stupid.
Like closing the distance between them. Pressing herself against his chest. Feeling that body she’d been staring at. Letting him pin her to the counter and finish what they’d started in the fire exit.
Her thighs clenched again. More wetness. She could feel it now. Warm and slick.
She needed to get out of this kitchen. Take another cold shower. Something.
“So,” she said, trying to sound normal. “What happened last night?”
“Sleeping vitamins. You passed out in the car.”
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And you brought me here?
our neighborhood looked rough at midnight. Didn’t want to leave you there.”
“Did you.” She hesitated. “Did you change my clothes?”
“No” Marcus stayed where he was. “You started complaining around midnight that the dress was too tight. My female housekeeper changed you. I didn’t see anything.”
His housekeeper. Right. That made sense.
don’t remember that at all
You were pretty out of it.”
“Yeah. Those vitamins hit hard.” She wrapped both hands around the coffee mug “That’s… good. That you didn’t. See anything, I mean.”
“Right”
Her eyes went straight back to his chest. His arms. The way the t–shirt clung to him.
Stop L. Stop staring.
But she couldn’t
Marcus cleared his throat. “We’re trending. The photo from last night.”
“I saw.”
“Nobody knows who you are yet
“Mystery woman. Yeah.”
The kitchen felt too warm. Too small. Like the air itself was pressing them together.
Elara finished her coffee and set the mug down.
She needed to leave. Go back upstairs. Get dressed. Put some distance between herself and this man before she did something she couldn’t take back.
Because right now, sitting here in his kitchen wearing his shirt with no underwear while he stood there looking like that?
She wanted him.
Rad
And judging by the way his sweatpants were still tenting slightly, he wanted her too.
This was dangerous.
Laura bine was going to be dangerous.
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Chapter 19
Every morning like this. Him in the kitchen. Her walking downstairs. Both of them pretending they weren’t thinking about the fire exit. About what it felt like when he was inside her.
Elara stood up. “I should probably get dressed.”
“Yeah, Your clothes are in the guest room,”
“Thanks”
She walked past him. Close enough to smell his cologne. Close enough to feel the heat coming off his body.
Close enough to stop. Turn around. Kiss him.
But she didn’t.
She kept walking. Back up the stairs. Into the guest room. Closed the door and leaned against it.
Two years.
She had to survive two years of this.
And she was only on day one. Or half a day. No, only 2 hours.
Shit.
B
