“What did you think I’d say?” I grin.
“I don’t know—but definitely not that.” And then he watches me carefully, his own hazel eyes heating just slightly in the middle of this crowded bar. “Not that I’m complaining. You can eat me.”
Something hot shoots straight through me at his words. My entire body is balancing on a tightrope; I’m touching a live wire.
“Again,” I add, leaning into his space.
Elijah swallows harshly, eyes falling to stare at my lips openly. “Right. Again.”
About thirty minutes later, I’m at the bar ordering both of us a water. I don’t intend on drinking more than a single beer and then getting behind the wheel with precious cargo—I’m not an idiot—and Elijah set his limit at two for some reason.
Or maybe I’m not acompleteidiot—but still kind of one—because I left Elijah alone at our table and as I turn to head back to him, I see that in doing so I gave that annoying DJ the perfect moment to swoop in.
As I approach, I watch the guy lean his side against the high-top, inching closer and closer into Elijah’s personal space.
He’s handsome with his black hair and defined features. Tall and lean. But I could most definitely knock his ass out if it came down to it.
Once I’m close enough, I begin to hear their semi-shouted conversation. The music is quite loud.
“What’s your number, sugar?”
“I’m not interested,” Elijah replies smoothly, and something warm blossoms in my chest.
“Aw, come on. What if you get all the way home and regret it? Maybe you’ll be interested tomorrow, or in a week from now.” This guy hasnogame.
“I am very positive that won’t be happening, Mr. DJ.” Elijah takes another drink from his cup, which is now just murky water from where the ice has completely melted.
“You’re not being very nice. For someone who looks so sweet, you’re kind of a—”
“Excuse me,” I interrupt, resting a hand on Elijah’s shoulder right as he begins to shift toward the man standing far too close to him.
“What?” the DJ snaps, clearly annoyed that I’m interrupting his verbal assault.
“He’s not interested. Why don’t you go find someone else to harass and stop trying to touch things that don’t belong to you?”
The words slip out naturally, as if I have every right to throw them around. I absolutely donot, and the way Elijah stiffens beneath me informs me that he agrees with that notion.
“Or what?” The man tries to look bigger than he is for a moment, but even then, I am significantly larger. But even if I wasn’t, I would still kick his dumbass.
“Or I’ll teach you how to keep your hands to yourself.”
He bristles, taking a step back.“I didn’t even touch him.”
“But you wanted to,” I counter, and the guy rolls his eyes.
“Whatever,” he mutters, and then he tucks his tail and walks away.
My hand slips from Elijah’s shoulder, and I take my seat next to him. He’s taken to grabbing one of the waters I sat on the table when I first approached, drinking it slowly.
I say nothing—I’m unsurewhatto say.
“Something that doesn’t belong to him, huh?” Elijah finally asks, and I sigh heavily, dropping my head into my hands.
“Can we forget that just happened? Please?” I damn near beg.
His sweet laugh fills the space around us, and I lift my head slowly to find him blushing, grinning down at his drink.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “It was far too hot to forget.”
