Page 104 of Love Me After


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“Until?” I ask.

A beat passes. The room is quiet, only the rapid thrum of my own heartbeat and the weight of his.

“Until you,” he admits, and there's nothing forced about it. No hesitation, no artifice. Just the truth.

“In such a short time, you've turned my whole world upside down. Even though I knew you through River, I don't see you as his sister. I see you as a woman I've come to adore. One I can't imagine letting go of.”

The words settle over me like heat, like sunlight breaking through the clouds on a dull day.

I clear my throat. “You're not too bad yourself.” My words are light, though my chest twists with a hint of guilt I can't quite shake. Everything inside me feels messy.

It all feels too real now. Overwhelming in a way, a storm is beautiful and terrifying at once. Never in a million years did I think I'd even tolerate Elijah… let alone ache for the sound of his laugh, the brush of his fingers on my skin, the way his lips find mine and make everything feel okay.

The thought that he's become someone important to me—someone who hurt my dad and split my family up—should make me step back. But it doesn't. Not even a little.

So I kiss him. Recklessly. Every ounce of me sinks into him, claiming him even as I straddle him, letting myself trace over the planes of his chest, memorise the strength in his arms, the tension in his shoulders. I ride him slowly at first, feeling every pulse of him inside me. I push the ache away from my own body, the weight of last night and this morning, the confession he just made… all of it melts into the what between us. In this moment, there's nothing but him, the rough gentleness of his hands, and the dizzying, perfect chaos of us.

I let myself surrender fully because with Elijah, even the messy, complicated parts of me feel right.

“Hello, you two.”

Ezra drops into the chair beside me, flashing that boyish grin that usually means trouble.

We’re at their parents' house for dinner. Elliot, Aria and Millie were supposed to come, but they've all come down with a stomach bug, so it's just us tonight.

He turns fully in his seat, deliberately ignoring the dark glare Elijah is sending him from across the table.

“I couldn't help but notice something,” he drawls, tapping his fingers lazily against the wood, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“And what's that?”

Elijah exhales sharply beside me. “You really shouldn't have asked that. Now he won’t shut up for the rest of the afternoon.”

He lets out an easy laugh, stretching his arm along the back of my chair. “Please, I’d talk either way. Though I have to say, you're awfully grumpy for a man who clearly had a very productive night.”

The wink he throws my way nearly makes me choke.

I still, but only for half a second, as he studies me, trying to look for a crack in my reaction.

“Relax, Willow,” he adds smoothly. “It’s our little secret.”

Elijah takes a sip of his drink, maddeningly calm, unlike myself. “There is no secret.”

“Oh yeah? Then you won't mind explaining that.”

He gestures toward Elijah's neck. Just below his ear, dark against his skin, is a very obvious purple bruise. And I know—because I put it there, which probably matches the other ones I left on his perfect body.

Oh no, we are done for, finished. If Ezra spotted it there's no way their parents didn't.

But Elijah doesn't rush to cover it. Doesn't even tense. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitches like he finds this amusing—his knee presses against mine under the table.

“You're also walking around like you've just had an orgy,” he adds casually. “Trust me, I know.”

I press my lips together, fighting the urge to laugh—or choke. I honestly hadn't thought anyone would notice. But walking has proven to be difficult because it still feels like Elijah is between my legs.

The man responsible, though, doesn't rise to it, but he doesn't deny it either. He simply leans back in his chair, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. There's a quiet arrogance in the set of his jaw, in the way his fingers curl loosely around his glass. A man who knows exactly what he did, and how well he did it.

And it only makes my cheeks burn hotter.