“No, not that,” he said, softly kissing my temple.
“I know,” I responded, feeling things way beyond physical as well. I hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Maybe ever. And that scared me. It was too soon. Too much. Too complicated. Our hands explored each other as our lips softly met again and again. It was so tender that I felt tears stinging behind my eyes.
I cleared my throat. “I was promised a pounding, not a sweet session with feelings involved,” I teased.
He laughed, then moved to his knees, grabbed hold of my thighs, and twisted me onto my back. Then he yanked me toward him, my ass sliding along his thighs. His hands gatheredmine and pushed them up over my head, where he directed them each onto one of the metal bars that made up the headboard. I held on. Then his hands slid down my arms, over my breasts and to my hips, where he pulled me even tighter against him. His thumb traveled to the bundle of nerves between my legs and worked me until I was gasping for breath. I planted my feet on the bed and pressed even harder against his touch.
And then, while staring intensely into my eyes, he rolled on a condom and slowly pushed himself inside me. He went still, filling me up, savoring the moment. I rocked forward, pushing myself onto him even more. He moaned and that made me tighten around him. He grabbed onto my hips and slowly pulled out, holding me in place so I couldn’t resist the movement. I closed my eyes and whimpered, and then he thrust back inside me. He repeated this several times, this slow, torturous movement, and then he picked up speed, slamming into a spot inside me that sent waves of pleasure through my body.
I cried out as the waves reached a crescendo. And when I did, he doubled his speed until he reached a peak as well, moaning my name. He collapsed on top of me, his face burrowing into my neck. I released the metal bars of the headboard and wrapped my arms around him.
“Can I keep you?” he asked, his voice muffled by my skin.
I kissed the side of his head, hugging him tighter against me.
CHAPTER 37
I woke up and it seemed too bright outside. “Shit.”
I was in the middle of the bed, Elijah onmyside. That little thief. There was no frustration behind my thoughts though, only fondness. It helped that my leg was draped over his and my arm across his stomach. I grabbed my phone, which said six forty. Not too late, but I meant to wake up at six fifteen. I’d told Raya when she’d dropped me off the night before that I’d take care of the delivery this morning. My hair, which I’d put in a French braid last night after our activities, was still slightly damp. I pulled it out of the braid as I walked toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Elijah mumbled from his half-asleep state. “Come back to bed.”
“I’m going in to work.”
“So early?”
“Delivery. I shouldn’t be long, and then I’ll come back home for a couple hours.”
“Home?” he asked.
“I mean here. My home.”
“Okay,” he said, rolling over and closing his eyes.
“Well, well, well,” Mac said, walking up with a box of produce. Mac was a large man—tall and wide with a friendly face. “If it isn’t the prodigal daughter returned home from her life of debauchery in the real world.” He shoved the box he held into my arms and walked back to the open back of his box truck.
“No debauchery,” I said. “Just an ill mother.” I set the box just inside the door I’d propped open.
“I should’ve known it was you when the door was actually open when I pulled up.”
It was five to seven. I’d gotten ready in record time—no makeup, just throwing on clothes and brushing my teeth.
“What’s going on with your hair?” he asked.
I’d taken it out of the braid, and it was very wavy. Probably bordering on too wavy. I normally wore my hair in a tight ponytail or bun at work. Occasionally loose beachy waves after work. But never this. “Was that meant to be a compliment?” I asked.
“It wasn’t meant to be an insult,” he returned.
I laughed. “What’s going on with your jeans?” I asked, pointing at the several stains on his knees.
“I’m at work,” he said.
“So am I,” I said.
He passed me another box. “You look nice, Sutton. Happy.”
“Thanks, I am.” I placed the box on top of the last one. “Thanks for keeping an eye on things here.”
