“Ellis, wait.” I hold him firmly by the arms.
He stills. Ellis’s dark gaze meets mine, and when his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, I swear my heart rattles.
God. I’ve dreamed about kissing him many times, but I don’t. He made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t do that.
“What!?” Ellis snaps. “Why did you want me to stop?”
“Are you drunk?” I murmur.
“No, just a bit buzzed.” His eyebrows furrow. “Areyoudrunk?”
“No. But…”
Ellis takes in a deep inhale, then says, “I’m very aware of what’s going on right now.”
“Ellis…”
I keep my hands on his arms as he sits up and says, “I’m very okay with hooking up right now if you’re cool with it.”
“It’s not going to change anything between us.”
“No. It’s not. We’re going to wake up tomorrow and you can go back to hating me, and we can pretend it never happened.”
My chest clenches. Jesus. “Is that what you think I want to hear?”
“Maybe? I’m just incredibly horny right now and I want your dick in me again. We can stop and have feelings time if you want, or you can show me you’ve still got it and the rest can come after.”
I…
Shit.
Yeah, okay.Yeah.
“Perfect answer,” I say, scrambling to undo the knots of his sweatpants. Ellis gives me a wicked grin, pawing at my shirt and pulling it up. He’s so fucking impatient, my shirt gets caught on my head when he tries to yank it off.
“Get this off,” he demands.
I grasp him tightly by the wrists. “What makes you think you’re in charge…?”
“Wha…?”
“Get off me. Now.”
Ellis gives me a look of indignation, and nobody is more shocked than I am when he actually obeys. Ellis’s mouth parts and rage flashes through his eyes, but he listens. He gives in. His shoulders go slack and he gets off my lap. I watch, almost in slow motion, as he sits back and puts his hands to his sides—one after another.
His gaze bores into me. Ellis pants slowly, his breaths loud in the silence of the room.
And I get on my knees, grab his ankles, and pull him toward me. He lets out a surprised choke as his back thuds against the mattress, his shoulder knocking an empty container and sending it onto the carpet.
I blink. Slowly, I extract the things around him—the half-eaten take-away containers, his shirt, the banana bread—and put them off to the side. Ellis watches me the entire time, his mouth parted.
I want to kiss him. I want to.
“Damon,” he grits out.
I grip his jaw. “Be patient.”
He narrows his eyes at me but gives a jerky nod. I let go of his jaw, squeeze his throat so lightly I know he can barely feel it, then drift my hand down to his chest. My thumb brushes over his nipple, making him shudder, and then I hook a finger on his waistband.
