“Oh God, I promise,” she moans and writhes with need. “Now fuck me, Elijah. Please.”
I’m deep inside her before she finishes saying my name. Her back arches and she sighs with pleasure, or relief. Probably both. But I don’t give her time to relax. I’m too riled up, too needy, for that. So I start to move, fast, long strokes, keeping my whole body low, against her body. I want to touch all of her at once. I’m desperate to feel her skin against mine.
She doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping her legs around my thighs and her arms around my neck. Her hands dig into my hair roughly, and the delicious sensation her nails on my scalp send down my spine has me pushing deep, harder into her.
“Eli…Oh God, Eli…” That breathy voice sends me into overdrive. I wrap my fingers around the back of her knee and pull her leg forward. Her ankle lands on my shoulder and I twist my hips just a little bit as I push into her. It makes her gasp and arch her back. I kiss her recklessly, tongues, teeth and lips battling.
She gets tight—so damn tight—around my cock. And warm. So unbelievably warm, and then, as I push and twist for the third time, slower and harder this time, her hands grip my hair and she does something unexpected. She opens her eyes and locks them with mine as she comes. It’s intimate and hotter than hell, and it sends me catapulting over the edge with her.
My body melts into hers and I bury my face in her shoulder and close my eyes and just absorb the fading sensations of both our orgasms. Her grip on my hair lessens, and after a minute she’s gently running her fingers through, her nails grazing soothingly across my scalp.
“Why is it so good?” she ponders aloud, and I smile against the soft skin of her elbow. “I thought I’d had good sex before, but clearly I was mistaken.”
“We’re just getting started, sweet Dixie,” I promise.
10
Dixie
So why do your parents hate hockey so much?” I ask as the bartender slides fresh strawberry Margaritas at us and plops two umbrellas in each drink, as per Eli’s request for extra umbrellas.
The question is blunt but he doesn’t flinch. Our already easy chemistry has gotten even easier as the night has progressed. Eli was starving and the canned soup and sourdough bread I keep in my apartment wasn’t going to cut it. So we threw on some clothes and I took him to Bert’s, an old-fashioned diner renowned for its killer milkshakes. He was stunned and fascinated by the amount of food I consumed. A large roast beef sandwich with extra mayo and extra sharp cheddar, curly fries and a chocolate cake shake that they make by dumping a slab of chocolate cake in the blender with chocolate ice cream and chocolate syrup. He ate the exact same meal plus a piece of apple pie for dessert, which he said was to get his fruits in for the day. It made me laugh.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him his eating habits would have to change as soon as he got on the team. They have a dietician and strict rules, plus the food they serve on road trips is steamed everything—chicken, fish, broccoli, you name it, they steam it. Jude and the guys cheat every now and then but not a lot. Probably because they’re older than Eli and they need all the help they can get to keep in shape.
After we ate we decided to walk off the food and spent hours roaming the streets of San Fran. He’s excited about moving here, I can see it in his eyes. We ended up sneaking into a tiny dive of a bar near Haight and Ashbury, which is where we are now, drinking some strawberry Margaritas, extra umbrellas.
He ponders my question for a minute, twirling an umbrella between his fingers, and then he levels his green eyes on me. “My uncle, my mom’s only brother, is paralyzed because of a sports injury.”
I almost gasp. “Oh gosh. That’s horrible.”
“It was.” He nods and drops the umbrella on the bar in front of us and then stares into his frozen drink. “It happened in a high school football game. He was this all-star quarterback with a scholarship to Penn State and everything. My mom’s whole family was devastated emotionally and financially from it.”
“I can imagine,” I whisper and sip my drink to take the edge off my feelings. I know all too well about being blindsided by a loved one’s health, or lack thereof.
“He’s great now,” Eli tells me, his mossy green eyes finding mine with an earnest look. “He’s an architect. He’s married and has two kids. He lets them play sports, and he’s really proud of Levi and me. But my mom still holds a grudge against sports.”
“I get it,” I reply, and he looks a little taken aback by that. I place my hand over his on the bar, curling my fingers around his palm. “I’m not saying she shouldn’t work through it. She should. I mean alienating your children because of your fears isn’t the answer. But I get how devastating it can be to watch someone you love lose everything and then watch your children do something you think could leave them the same way. And it almost did with you.”
His eyes cloud over and he swallows hard. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple makes my eyes fall to the scar, the result of what I’m talking about. He seems like he’s pulling away from me emotionally, and I worry I’ve overstepped, so I try to explain further, tightening my grip on his hand. “Eli, I didn’t even know you. But to hear about your accident from Levi and see the video was gut-wrenching. She’s your mom. That must have been flashback central for her.”
He smiles at that, but it’s pained, like it’s more of a grimace. I worry again that I’m overstepping, but he finally turns his hand over to hold mine. “It was scary. It didn’t just look like I was dying, I thought I was dying. But it didn’t make me think playing was a mistake. It made me think wasting time playing at the college level was the mistake. I almost lost my chance to play professionally because I was trying to please my parents.”
“That’s why you went to college?” I ask, stunned. I had no idea.
“Yeah. I’ve always been the kid who, despite pushing their buttons like it’s my job, tries to give them what they want,” he explains, his eyes on our joined hands. “They wanted all three of us to get a college education. Todd, my oldest brother, did, but he became an entertainment lawyer simply so he could party in L.A. Not what they had in mind. Levi ditched school for the draft, which, as you know, had them disown him for a couple of years. I thought if I went to college before playing professionally it wouldn’t give them a reason to disown me.”
“But you changed your mind?”
He nods. “That accident changed my mind. Yeah. And they didn’t disown me, but they are still pushing me to go back to school. They think I’m not playing well enough to justify my decision, and they’re right.” He looks frustrated.
I’m about to ask him if he thinks the accident is the reason he’s not playing so well, but I stop myself. This is getting way too deep—for both of us, I think. We’re supposed to be having fun, and there’s no room in the plan for deep revelations and sharing. I sip my drink. “I guess big moments like that can cause you to rethink things.”
His face hardens for just the slightest second, and I instantly regret saying it. But then he smiles jovially. “Yeah, but like I told you when I met you, it’s a hell of a conversation starter.”
I force myself to smile back, but honestly, I think he’s full of shit. I don’t want to call him on it right now, but knowing me I’ll do it at some point, if he doesn’t figure it out on his own.
He leans in further and kisses my cheek softly. It’s more of a brush really. It’s a habit of his, and I definitely could get used to it. “So tell me about your childhood with the notorious Jude Braddock,” he urges.
