I take some satisfaction in Elliot’s jaw hanging open, one of the first unguarded expressions I’ve seen on him. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, probably searching for words. But then the momentary smugness leaves my body, replaced with worry.
“Likeever?” he asks.
“I’ve done a lot of research,” I say quickly as if that makes sense.
He nods, his face scrunched up. “That’s good. Butnever?”
Okay, now it’s just insulting. “Dude, I have it on good authority from tons of blogs that late bi-awakening is not only a thing but pretty normal.”
He nods with understanding. “Oh,thattype of research,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “Alltypes of research. And I can show you right now. Let’s take this inside,” I say, my confidence coming back. I’m fucking amazing in the bedroom. That’s one thing that won’t change, whatever the gender of my partner.
He angles his body towards me. “Uh, let’s hold that off for a bit. Listen, I don’t think it’s a very good idea for me to be your first. Not that I doubt your research skills or anything,” he says quickly when I open my mouth to defend myself. “It’sjust… first times can lead to a lot of feelings because it’s significant and shit,” he says, looking so uncomfortable it’s funny.
I grin at him. “Are you worried I’ll fall in love with you, Dr. Elliot? You’ll sweep me off my inexperienced, young, naive feet?”
His lips betray him and stretch into a smile. “You know what I mean,” he says.
“No, I don’t. I don’t remember the last time I was in a long-term relationship. I don’t have the space for something that big in my lifeandmy mind, so you really don’t have to worry about my feelings here,” I insist.
He narrows his eyes, contemplating. But I’m done thinking and letting him be a condescending jerk. Well, more of a condescending jerk than he normally is.
I close the gap between us, pulling him into a bruising kiss. I take some satisfaction in his surprised gasp before his arms come around my shoulders, hands clutching my T-shirt. He pulls me in, all the reservations apparently gone.
I plunge my tongue into his mouth. Soft, pliant, sweet. I pull him closer. My hand rests on his ass, and the other threads through his soft hair.
He sucks on my tongue, massaging it with his. His hand rests at the back of my neck, pulling me into him. I let him, pushing him against the back of the couch. I move my hand to his lap, checking my theory. When my hand meets his half-hard cock, he lets out a soft groan.
I pull back and smile down at him. “Any more objections?”
“Shut up,” he pulls me back in. But this time, I bypass his red, swollen mouth and move down to his neck. I nuzzle around under his stupid shirt collar. It needs to go. In fact, the pants need to—
Something butts my legs, and I startle away from him. Mickey looks at me adoringly. Elliot snorts. I throw a glare at him, but I’m sure my expression is closer to Mickey’s than anything else I was attempting.
He looks flushed, a slight blush covering his face, travelingdown to his neck. His breath is coming in short pants. Not that I’m doing any better. “Wanna take this insidenow?”
“Are you sure?” he asks seriously. I want to snap at him for bringing that up again. But his tone is lacking the usual snide. He’s genuinely concerned about this.
If only he knew how little he should be worried about me getting any feelings, he’d probably laugh. A mean little snort at the very least. Then again, if he knew the truth, he might smack me in the head with one of the snow globes Bree started gifting me as a joke every time she traveled somewhere. It would serve me right for taking the joke a step further by displaying them in my living room.
I nod. Yes, I’m sure I won't develop feelings for him. And he definitely doesn’t need to worry about taking advantage of me.
He walks toward my bedroom, and I follow him after giving Mickey some pats, so he stays put. He’s had enough food and attention for the day.
Elliot is circling the room, looking at the random bright abstract art on the walls, all of them an impulse buy. Sloan and I had an interior design phase a few years ago, so now everyone has weird shit that doesn’t make any sense in their houses. But with a collective consensus, we don’t talk about it anymore. I’m almost sure everyone thinks they’ll bring the phase back to life if they move anything we forced them to buy.
It’s hilarious. But I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t want to talk about anything, really. The only noise I want to hear is Elliot moaning, then praising me for being the best sex he’s ever had. No, I’m not setting myself up for failure here, I’m just that good at everything… except interior designing.
I pull my T-shirt off. The sound makes Elliot turn. His gaze slowly travels up my body, studying every ridge, every curve. I barely stop myself from flexing, putting on a real show. “A bit unfair, don’t you think?” I say instead. I unzip my jeans and pull them off too, leaving me in my black boxer briefs.
Elliot swallows, the sound loud, probably only to me. He slowly unbuttons his shirt, my eyes following the movement of his clever hands. He lets it fall on the floor, then pulls off his undershirt too.
I knew he worked out, but seeing the lean muscles of his chest and his pecs still makes me salivate.Fuck, he’s hot. I’ve seen him go to the gym a few times. But this isn’t ‘working out a few times a week’ body. It’s a ‘spends hours strengthening every muscle’ body. All tightly wound strength.
So different from me. So sexy.
“Tell me you’re not guessing my workout routine right now,” he pleads.
