I desperately wanted to do this right—to dousright. But at the same time, it felt like I’d just gone ahead and done everything wrong from the get-go. Beginning with a casual multi-night stand and agreeing to the now-defunct Rules, keeping in contact even though I’d agreed not to, dropping everything to drive over a thousand miles to a tiny town in northern Wisconsin, our terrible first actual date, and nowthis.
It sure as shit wasn’t going to be the stuff of a romance novel, that was for damn sure.
More like a how-not-to-go-about-romance manual.
“You don’t have to.” Elliot’s voice broke into my had-gone-on-far-too-long reverie.
I blinked rapidly. “No! I mean. I was thinking.” My face and neck were both on fire.
“I didn’t mean you had to think about itimmediately,” he said, and I wasn’t sure which one of us felt more awkward. Like I said—how-not-to-go-about-romance.
I scrubbed both hands over my face. “I’m just—tired and overwhelmed,” I said, finally. “It’s not you. Everything is just… a lot.”
“I’m not part of ‘everything’?” he asked, and I could tell he was trying to tease me.
“Everythingelse,” I clarified. “Although you’re a lot in a different way.”
“Am I?”
I glanced down toward thea lotin question, then back up, and by the time I met his eyes, they were sparking with laughter again. And something else. “You are,” I told him, and this time I was the one to step forward and put my hands on the exposedskin of his waist. His arms reached up and wrapped around my neck.
“Too much for you?” he asked, amused.
“Not a chance,” I told him, pushing my hips against his.
Elliot let out a tiny growl, then pulled me down and kissed me.
I felt his body mold into mine, hard muscle and bone turning into putty in my hands. And I loved it. Not that I didn’t love it when Elliot was throwing me around—because I very definitely did. But this was new—andveryexciting.
He broke off the kiss to run his tongue over my throat, sending a shudder through my whole body as electricity shivered through my nerve endings. I heard myself growl low in my chest, the sound surprising, as was Elliot’s reaction.
He ripped my shirt off me, then shoved at the waistband of my sweatpants, pushing them down over my hips, freeing the erection that had been straining against the knit fabric. Then he shed his own, leaving them on the kitchen floor as he grabbed my shoulders with both hands and threw himself into my arms.
I staggered—he wasn’t that much smaller than me—but managed to stay on my feet, although I hit my thigh against one corner of the kitchen table. I sucked in a breath at the pain, but was immediately distracted by Elliot’s lips and the feel of his hips and cock grinding against the skin of my belly.
I shifted his weight, putting my hands under his thighs.
He bit me, gently, his teeth grazing the side of my neck where it met my shoulder. “Fuck,” I gasped.
He squirmed a little, pushing the heat of his erection harder against my stomach.
“Keep doing that, and I’m going to drop you,” I hissed at him.
“Then take me to bed,” he rumbled back. “Unless you keep lube in your kitchen.”
I groaned. “Remind me to do that later,” I gasped out, but I hefted him as he tightened his legs around me and carefully navigated my tiny apartment until I could half-drop him onto the mattress. I expected him to let go—but he didn’t, instead pulling me with him.
I caught myself with both hands so that I didn’t crush him, and both of us gasped as his heels pulled my hips hard against his—although mine was as much to do with pain shooting through my knee as the delicious feeling of Elliot’s cock pushing against mine.
His fingers on the back of my head pulled my mouth down to his, kissing me deeply before tugging at my lower lip with his teeth.
I chased him down to the mattress, kissing behind his ear, around his jaw, across the scarring on his neck.
“Seth,” he rasped, fingers fisting in my hair.
I hummed against his skin, kissing back up toward his jaw.
“Would you—” He broke off, and I raised my head to look at him. Elliot had never been hesitant in the bedroom.
