The movie ends, and we both watch the credits as if we'd noticed them.
"I'll help you clean up," Eli says, his voice tense.
I shake my head. "You paid for dinner. I'll take care of the rest."
I get up and start gathering the dinner containers. Despite having told him I didn't need him to help, he takes the ones I couldn't carry on the first trip to the kitchen. I throw things in the trash, he puts the glasses and silverware we used in the dishwasher, I take a new trash bag out of the drawer and remove the one that needs to be thrown away. It all seems so domestic, as if we've done this a thousand times. And maybe we have, but... not this... in sync.
As soon as we're done cleaning everything, Eli grabs his phone from the coffee table, comes over to me, kisses me on the forehead, and heads for the door with the trash bag.
"Uh, Eli?" I get his attention.
"Yes, babe." He turns to me curiously.
"Where are you going with the trash bag?" I ask, frowning.
"To throw it away, where else?" Eli tells me as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
"You don't have to do this. I'll take it down tomorrow when I get out." I don't need him to do these things for me. He's not my boyfriend, it's not his obligation.
"Don't worry, beautiful. It's no bother at all. See you tomorrow. Get some rest. Good night, Ava." He says as he opens the door and leaves. Before closing it behind him, he turns and says,
"Lock the door properly. See you tomorrow." He watches me, waiting for a response.
“Yes, sir,” I reply teasingly, rolling my eyes.
His gaze darkens instantly, and in that split second, I see a storm of emotions flicker across his face. Too many, too fast to name. But what I do catch is the low, primal growl that rumbles from his chest.
I blink, and suddenly Elijah is in front of me. The trash bag he was holding now lies forgotten by the door. One of his hands wraps around my throat, firm but not suffocating, just enough to make his dominance unmistakable, while the other one grabs my hip.
And holy hell… I want to die, because I think….no, I know, my panties have never been this soaked, this fast. I've never been so turned on in my entire life.
“The next time I see you roll those eyes at me,” he murmurs, voice low and menacing, our noses touching, our breaths mingling , “I’m going to put you over my knee and spank that perfect ass of yours until it turns a beautiful shade of red. Understood, Princess?” His voice is so thick and full of arousal that it clouds my vision.
His voice fogs everything, thoughts, vision, reason.
I can’t speak. My brain has officially checked out. My eyes are wide enough to pop out of my skull, because Elijah Blacksmith, my four years best friend, the most dangerously sexy man I’ve ever known, just threatened to spank me.
And God help me, I’ve never wanted anything more.
His hand tightens slightly around my throat, a silent command to answer, while the one on my hip grips me so hard, I know I’ll find a bruise there tomorrow.
God, IhopeI do.
I want the mark, the proof that this isn’t one of my late-night fantasies. That this is real, not just another wet dream where we get lost between the sheets, where he finally touches me like I’ve imagined a thousand times.
I nod. That’s all I can do.
Elijah nods and steps back, his gaze still devouring me like a wolf sizing up its next meal. He grabs the trash bag, walks out, and closes the door behind him without another word.
As soon as I hear the lock click, I go and throw the bolt. My forehead rests against the wood, and I exhale shakily.
This man is going to be the death of me.
And if I listen to my inner little slut, the one who hasn’t had sex in over six years, we’re going to die happily.
***
To say I didn’t sleep well last night would be the biggest understatement of the year.
