I bite at my lip. I’m unaware that I’ve placed one foot on the wrought iron patio chair, exposing myself to him until his gaze flicks to my hand frantically trying to ease the throbbingneed.
“So pretty. So greedy,” hewhispers.
The porch light across from us illuminates. The suction of someone opening the sliding door seems loud, and I drop my leg to theground.
“Don’t you dare,” he says, nodding to the chair as he jerks himselffaster.
My gaze darts to the apartment. A couple steps out onto their balcony. The man has on a green shirt and khakis. The woman’s striped dress billows in the wind. If I can see that much detail onthem…
“Show them what a tight, little pussy you have, tiger lily,” Elijah provokes me. “Show them how perfect youare.”
As though in a trance, I place my foot on the chair again, turning so the couple has an exquisite view of what I’mdoing.
My eyes fall back on Elijah, to how he pleases himself while watching me. It shouldn’t turn me on, but I don’t think anything has ever done more for me. Everything builds under my touch, and while it feels good, I just want it to be his fingers insideme.
“I’ve imagined laying you on the bed,” he says. “Spreading your thighs and burying myself deep inside you. I think about taking you from behind while another man watches, wishing he were solucky.”
Heat courses from my core to my fingers andtoes.
“Are you there? Are you ready?” he pants, his hand slapping against his lowerabdomen.
“Yes!” I’m so close to the edge that my voice echoes from the walls and out over the EastRiver.
With that, Elijah’s head falls back. His brows knit together, his jaw clenches before his lips part on a deep groan—one that I feel in my stomach. One that is the catalyst for driving me over the edge. His face tightens, and his nostrils flare. This man, usually in complete control, has come unraveled, and my what a beautiful sight itis.
I fight the noises threatening to spill from my lips, only allowing a soft whimper through as my body jerks and tenses. Over and over. Until my legs feel weak and I’mbreathless.
Elijah hunches forward as he comes, spilling onto the tiled porch. He steps toward me, cupping the back of my head before pulling me in for a kiss. “You have no idea what you’ve just done to me,” he whispers against my lips. “None.”
I don’t even know who I am with this man, but I rather enjoyit.
Without a word, he pulls up his pants, moves past me, then glances over his shoulder with one of his signature, smug grins, and those dimples—damn, those dimples—before disappearinginside.
I watch through the window as he climbs the steps to his bedroom. His back is to me as he undresses, then crawls into the bed and lies back on thepillow.
A blue haze fills the room when the TV turnson.
Now this,thisis awkward. I’m still on the patio, and he’s in his bed—after we just masturbated in front of each other while his neighbors watched. I need to get out ofhere.
I slip inside, closing the glass door behind me. I grab my phone from my purse, tapping the little Uberapp.
“What are you doing?” he calls from the bed, a playful lilt to histone.
“CallingUber.”
“It’s already past midnight, Cinderella. Besides, you do realize those things aredangerous?”
“Uber is not dangerous. They do background checks.” I look up and frown.Shit. Maybe they are.My gaze drifts back to the cell in myhand.
“Most skilled serial killers are serial killers for a reason, which is how they know to avoid getting caught. What better way than carting unsuspecting womenaround.”
My stomach knots, then sinks and bubbles. Jesus, either he’s playing to my paranoia, or he’sright.
“Stay.”
I look up again, and his attention is still focused on the large plasma screen hung in front of his bed. “Stay?” I repeat,slowly.
“Don’t make mebeg.”
