“So?”
“So…” He leans across the empty space, hooking a finger in the waistband of my skirt and dragging me forward to stand between his legs. “I’ve never claimed anyone before. Which means…” His fingers pull at the scarf around my neck, but he doesn’t untie it. “The only woman that’s been in my bed is you.”
I blink, suddenly conscious of the way he’s looking at me.
The grin is gone, but his eyes are bright, and his head is cocked.
He’s studying me, like Dame does. Waiting to see what I’ll do. Only Elliot’s gaze is not so innocent.
His eyes move over my lips and throat, down to my chest, where they linger before sliding back up to my mouth. Leaning forward, he takes a deep breath, scenting me.
“I think it’s working,” he whispers.
“Shut up,” I whisper back, but his hands are already on me.
He lifts my feet from the floor, turning to set me on top of the desk, drawing my legs around his waist as he lays me down on the hard wood. The air in my lungs feels shallow as he hovers over me, and I focus on his face in an effort to remind myself that this is Elliot.
Elliot Cross, the boy who never lets them get away with staring. Who hides my bodies, and always makes sure I’m full.
Elliot, I repeat.Elliot Cross.
“Princess, are you okay?”
“What?”
My eyes must have slid shut in my meditations, and when I open them, he is leaning over me, soft, green eyes glistening with worry.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I nod, but no words come out, and Elliot frowns.
“Did you just lie to me?”
“What? No, I?—”
“Yes, you did.” He presses his nose to the base of my throat. “You still are.”
“I swear, I’m?—”
He straightens without warning, dragging me into an upright position as he stands.
“What are your safety cues?” he interjects.
“Cross, I’m fine. I don’t need a safety lesson.”
“Well, that’s twice now you haven’t used them, so, sorry, it’s not up for discussion. You have three seconds to tell me your cues, or I’ll let you starve.”
“Cross, you’re being?—”
“One.”
“Cross.”
“Two.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
His brow lifts.
