I turned to face the direction that Elijah’s voice had come from and was stunned to see him in casual clothes.Why hadn’t I given much thought last night to what he might be wearing today?I didn’t know why, but I had expected to see him in dress pants and a button-down long-sleeved dress shirt—preferably one that clung to his biceps. However, his attire for our date today was much more exciting.
Thomas had friends over to the house who all seemed to know how to find jeans to fit them, so I felt that I was somewhat of an expert on men in jeans and began assessing Elijah’s. His jeans were a perfect medium shade and fit him well. They weren’t a loose mess. Actually, now that I’d thought about it, I really hadn’t seen too many men around here wearing jeans that didn’t fit them. There was a hint of his thigh muscles with each step he took toward me, showing me that this man definitely had a hot body. His dick bulge was heavenly to watch as he walked. I could have sat in the lobby for five hours and simply watched this man walk. I was so curious about his underwear because over his clothes it always looked like he had his dick perched on a shelf. Since the jeans accentuated that bulge, I was willing to bet that they’d make his ass look shapely too.
Brushing against the denim with a swishing noise was a black messenger bag. Judging by the thick shoulder pad and the sturdy strap that attached to the bag with large silver clasps, my guess was this wasn’t some cheap nylon bag.
He had made it to me before my brain could even fully comprehend the shirt. Now that he was standing right in front of me, it was almost impossible for me to take my eyes off his upper body.
“Hi, Miss Peace,” he greeted.
I dragged my eyes off his incredibly sculpted chest muscles to his eyes.
“Hi,” I managed to reply.
“Shall we?” Elijah gestured toward a set of open doors that took us into a room with rows and rows of shelves and displays. “Let’s find a spot for us to sit and put our things.”
Usandour. They were words he’d used to describe both of us as an entity. After all, it was our date. I could easily get used to this. I wondered if maybe we could meet at the library again for another date.
With each step I took beside him, I felt the dampness between my legs and had a wild visual of him fingering me between the rows of books. It was a very arousing mental picture of us. One that I had to push out of my mind because it was making my clit throb.
Elijah pointed to an oak table that had two chairs side by side. We both selected a spot and then began to open our bags to get our notebooks and pens out. As he talked about how nice this table would be because of the natural lighting flooding from the large windows, I had a reason to focus on his mouth. I thought I’d accomplished the task of looking interested in the table location while letting my eyes drop from watching his lips move to his chest and arms.
What looked like the softest heathered gray Henley was lucky enough to be draped over his fine body. When he moved, it moved with him. It was the most incredible looking shirt. It pulled against his chest and arms depending upon how he moved. This was the first time I had been able to see so much of his skin. Even when he rolled up the sleeves of his other shirts, I was never able to see this much. The short sleeves on this shirt clung to his muscles and made me want to curl up on his lap and take a nap while these big arms held me close. I also noticed that his skin was golden, which led me to the fantasy of him outside shirtless by our pool.Mmm, what kind of swim trunks do you have, Elijah?
“Okay,” Elijah said as he opened up his notebook. He tossed his pen down on top of his page and looked at me. “Where do we start?” he asked.
With my purple fuzzy pom-pom pen, I pointed to the large map display that I saw in the center of the room. It acted as a divider separating sections of bookshelves.
“We can start there because it’ll show us where certain books with records are for the regions,” I suggested.
Each time I moved my hand while I spoke, the pom-pom on the end of my pen bounced around. By the third or fourth bounce, Elijah playfully nodded along with my pen. I laughed and felt my face getting really warm. When he realized that I knew what he was doing, he smiled and nearly melted me on the spot.
“Let’s go take a look and find out where we need to head,” he agreed with my suggestion.
Elijah and I walked to the huge map display, and my eyes were drawn toward South America. While my eyes scanned the map that was protected by glass, I brushed the pom-pom on my pen against my lips. I eagerly pointed to the sections for South America and then looked at Elijah.
“Can we go check this section out first?” I asked while grinning. I’d hoped there would be some answers to the missing pieces that I had been searching for.
“Absolutely. Lead the way, Miss Peace.”
I led us to the section and he followed me down the aisle. I quietly recited the range of the years that I was looking for, and both of us scanned the spines of the large books on the shelves. When it was clear that we had gone down too far in the aisle, I came to an abrupt stop, causing Elijah to step on the heel of my sneaker. His reaction was to reach out and wrap his hands around my upper arms, as if him bumping me was going to knock me off balance and cause me to fall to the floor.
“Oops! Sorry, dear. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”
Mmm, please bump into me with that body anytime you wish.
“You’re forgiven,” I teased.
Elijah smiled at me before he returned his attention to the bookshelf. Being much taller than I was, he was able to read the spines on the very top shelf. He reached up to pull a book down, and in the process, I saw ink from a tattoo peeking out from that lucky shirt. His hands held the book that might contain missing pieces to my father’s side of the family. That alone should have been exciting and enough to cause me to jump up and down. Instead, my eyes were glued to the inside of Elijah’s arm. Like a kid in a toy store, I’d lost all self-control and immediately began asking him about it.
“What is your tattoo of?”
Elijah held the oversized book in his hand and pulled up the sleeve to expose the tattoo of two crossed oars. I was about to combust and didn’t know where to focus my eyes: on the sexy tattoo, or on the big, sexy, bulging muscle.
“They’re oars. I used to row competitively in college.” His tone was just above a whisper as to not disturb others around us. He kept his sleeve pulled up so I could get a closer look at it.
“That’s cool.” When we got back to our table, I got a little nosier. “Do you still row?”
“I have a rowing machine that I use at home. It’s mainly for cardiovascular and to keep my thighs conditioned.”
