Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Not that I want him upset or misled for any reason—but it is nice knowing he cares that much about what we have and who I see.
Plus, he remembered my favorite soup.
“You’re welcome,” she adds, and I give her the finger as I slam the door.
The drive takes fucking forever. Thirty minutes turns into an hour in my mind, and I try to reach his cellphone a few more times. Elijah does not answer—the call doesn’t even go through.
No way he blocked me, right? He’s sensible enough to at least wait for an explanation.
Fuck—I’m so torn between being terrified over the misunderstanding and giddy over what his caring means.
Am I really getting to him? Is he already falling in love with me?
I thought for sure it’d take a bit longer, considering he’s said he isn’t a very emotional guy, but as fated lovers, I guess it’s possible that he’d fall much quicker than average.
I swear to god, if Marissa just fucked up my chance at happiness with myliteralsoulmate, I’ll wring her neck.
When I pull up to Elijah’s apartment, I spot his car parked by the stairs that lead to his unit. He’s home—that’s a good sign.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I find myself panting in front of his door in a matter of seconds. I don’t think I even locked my truck, and I most definitely didn’t put on underwear or socks before I left. I’m a mess.
I deliver three steady knocks to the wood, right under the silver 241 plated at eye level. I hear no movement, so after a moment or two, I knock three more times.
Rustling and the sound of a lock sliding sounds through the door, and my heart rate skyrockets.
When Elijah finally opens up, he’s rubbing at his wet hair, wearing the world’s smallest pair of sleep shorts and absolutely nothing else.
Well, this is unfair. How the fuck am I supposed to have a civil conversation now?
“What?” he asks, and his tone tells me he is already completely fed up, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet.
“Hey, you weren’t answering your phone, and Marissa said—”
“Marissa?” he interrupts, those hazel eyes sharpening in a way I’ve never seen before. His hand falls to his side. “Is that who I met today?”
I swallow.“Yes. And I’m more than happy to explain. Can I come in? And maybe you could put some more clothes on.”
Elijah’s eyes narrow further right before his arms cross, hip popping out with an unbelievable amount of attitude.
He glares at me.“No, thanks. You can stand right there in the cold, and I’ll stay right here in my comfortable pajamas.”
I rub at the back of my neck, sighing gently. “Okay, I’ll stay in the cold. But it’s pretty distracting looking at you right now. I mean, I can see the whole outline of your dick and your nipples are all hard, and I can’t really think—”
“You’re grown, Rowan. Just don’t look. Plus, you’re not the only one who’s had to suffer through the sight ofhard nipplestoday.”
My eyes widen.Fucking Marissa.
“Haa. Okay.” My hands tuck themselves into the pockets of my sweats, and like a kicked puppy, I explain myself. “You met Marissa. She’s been my only friend for years, and she flew in yesterday morning as a surprise, so she’s been staying at myhouse. She was—well—likethatbecause we’d gone on a walk and needed to shower.”
Elijah is staring at me impassively, arms still securely crossed over his chest, unfortunately also still low enough to leave his perfectly colored nipples exposed to me.
“Uh-huh. And is her visit why I’ve barely heard from you?” he asks, and I shake my head rapidly.
“No! Well, not just her. I’ve also been working.”And stalking you, but I can’t very well say that.
“Working,” Elijah repeats slowly, and I nod, though I can acknowledge that even I can see that it sounds like an excuse.
“Yes, I’m being completely honest with you.”
