Delusive (31 page)

“Goddamn you, Elias,” I spat at him in a whisper quiet.

“You damned me, Hanley. Not God.” With his hand still tangled in my hair, his free hand slipped up my skirt. His mouth found mine, toying with the dip in my lips, forcing my mouth to come apart. His tongue probed forcefully, thrusting me into a place I fought hard against descending into. His fingers found my slit and began to penetrate me.
 

My body trembled, wanting to be filled with his poison again. I spread my legs, and he shoved his fingers deeper inside my sex.
 

His teeth nipped at my lip as he drew a sharp, ragged breath. “Fuck my cock,” he rasped against my lips.

I took off my seatbelt and straddled him. Holding his head, I kissed him hard and rough, meaning to hurt him the way he hurt me. Instead, he smirked and grasped my neck with one hand, making me gasp with the pressure he applied to my throat. With the other hand, he deftly unbuckled and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out of his boxer briefs. It throbbed underneath me and rubbed against my sex. With my hands wrapped around his wrist tightly, intending to hurt the hand controlling my breath, I rolled my hips and slowly slipped down on his cock.
 

The seat reclined back, giving me room to move. I wrapped my arms around him and slid up his body, landing hard, taking every inch of him inside me.

Tightening the grip he held, he increased the pressure of his hand around my neck. He fought against making a sound as he stared at me, taunting me. Straining for breaths, I panted and rode him harder. My hips undulated faster as my thighs tensed, supporting my fervent up and down movements. My nails dug into the back of his head. His hand dug into the skin on my ass.

Torture brimmed in his eyes as he held me firmer, hurting me, making it difficult to swallow let alone breathe. I repeatedly came down hard and bumped my head against the roof of the car every time I slid upward.

“Elias,” I moaned, my breath strangled. He clutched the back of my head, pulling me forward to meet his painful, biting kisses. My face fell against his neck, my breaths heating his soft skin, making the scent of his aftershave permeate my senses. I opened my mouth, sinking my teeth into his flesh.
 

His hold on me firmed. His grip on my skirt, pulling it up at my ass, tugged until the material cut into my waist. Bucking his hips up, he crashed into me from beneath me with sprightly and increasingly hurried thrusts. Whimpering, I bit his neck harder, intending to draw blood.
 

His strokes were vicious and deep, fucking me into submission until my body began to sing with pleasure. Weakened, I sank against him, gasping a curse. My body convulsed as he grew rigid beneath me. Yanking a fistful of my hair back, he pulled my mouth away from his neck and forced my lips to meet his mouth. He bit into my bottom lip, roughly. His eyes smoldered and bore into me as he pumped into me from with a punishing momentum.

Shock hit my system when he cut off my air and continued to fuck me brutally. His eyes were trained on mine, steadily watching every move I made. My mouth fell open, attempting to suck in air that never reached my lungs. Panicked, I clawed at the skin on his wrists, desperate to breathe. My body began to tremble and my vision began to blur.
 

In a sudden act of mercy, he released his hold on my neck. The rush of oxygen filled me, my senses became hyperaware. The verge I pended on before he stole my breath decided to devour me whole. Squealing, I came intensely against his harsh thrusts. He barely flinched, appearing to not want to miss a single second of my reaction as he came with me.
 

A hot sticky mess flooded between us.
 

I collapsed against him, my forehead touching his. My body was sated, but my mind was riddled with a guilt that began to quiet the longer he stared at me.
 

I’d never been able to purge his poison from my veins, and it was clear in how easily I gave into him. I wouldn’t tell him I forgave him, instead I told him what he already knew. “You suck the life out of the woman I’m supposed be and you fill what’s empty with you. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you.”

With a self-satisfied grin, he brushed the stray hairs that fell from my bun away from my face. “You know who you’ve become,” he stated through panting breaths, “you just don’t recognize her. You’ve become mine.”

SHOWERED AND DRESSED in one of the outfits Elias picked out for me from my side of his closet, I waited for Elias to finish his shower while roaming around the house. Halfway disbelieving I was back so soon, I wandered the halls, searching for the one thing I’d probably never find again. It wasn’t anything held inside the rooms, but the thing inside me that Elias succeeded in silencing the more he hurt me, and the more I forgave him.
 

Skylar had sent me over a dozen texts, warning me against making a mistake. She didn’t realize, the second Elias Cari looked into my eyes and asked me if I was all right, I reached the point of no return. Nothing could’ve prevented that moment, and nothing anyone could’ve done would’ve diminished the pull he had over me. A pull that proved too strong to break. There were many reasons why I shouldn’t have been with him and better reasons to leave. If my heart worked on logic, it would’ve protected itself from being broken and never would’ve craved the toxic, but gratifying, connection I experienced with Elias.

I pressed the speed dial digit for my father’s number, calling him for the dozenth time in the evening. He finally picked up, allowing me to breathe again.

“Dad,” I sighed. "I was so worried. Why didn't you pick up?"

“I didn’t recognize the number. Everything is fine, Hanley. I've just been packing. I put your things together as well. I'm just not sure if I should put them in the moving van or begrudgingly have them delivered to Elias Cari's residence."

"You can't just leave me here." I took a peek at the open door of the bathroom, noting Elias had turned off the showerhead. I slipped out of the bedroom and descended the stairs, heading toward the living room for privacy. "Nothing has changed, Dad.”

"Everything has,” he halfway snapped, halfway stated with melancholy. “The father in me wants to take you away from him right now. The friend just wants you to be happy, and the angry man wants to believe you haven’t forgotten what you promised." I heard him inhale, slowly, and deeply. "I wish you weren't so involved with the son of the son-of-a-bitch who wrecked our lives. Place the blame where it lies, I suppose. Who can touch the untouchable?"

“Don't do this,” I pleaded.
 

“Say it so I know what all of this for, that you are still on my side and believe in me.”

"The woman who hooks the favored son of the man who wronged her family; Natanael is touchable if his favorite son falls in love with me,” I said, repeating what he drilled into my head verbatim.

"Exactly.”
 

I smiled sullenly. “I think he told me he loved me. We're moving along. Just stay. This will be over soon."

The clearing of Elias’s throat made me freeze.
 

"I have to go," I whispered, hanging up. I turned around to greet Elias, dressed in his usual all black. He was a little more casual with a V-neck sweater and slacks. I searched his face for an indication of how long he’d been standing there. His impassivity made it hard to decipher if he had heard too much, or not enough.
 

"Whom were you speaking to?" he asked, his tone devoid of inflection.

I relaxed, noting he hadn’t been there for long. “My father. He’s…thinking about moving without me."

His eyes perked up, holding to lightness and maybe a tinge of hope. "Might be the best decision he’s ever made." Stalking up to me, he took my hands, kissing the back of each one. Twirling me so he could get a better look at the dress I wore, he nodded in appreciation at what he saw. “Much better.” Taking a deep breath, he gave me a tame smile presented along with his empty eyes. “I’m so glad you're back in my life. This time I won't let you go, and I promise"—he reached up, fingering one of the barrel curls I had put in my hair—"I won't do anything to make you leave again.”

"Don't promise me anything. Just don't do those things to me anymore."

He grasped my chin, tilting my head down and kissed my forehead. "I can't continue to put off the reservations." He guided me by the hand, but paused. He turned to me, visibly bothered by something. "I asked you for something earlier. I'm going to need that now."

Blinking, I clutched my phone to my chest, protecting my last stitch of privacy. “Why?"

His smile became just as lukewarm as his eyes. “To keep you safe, Hanley. As I promised."

“What would you keep me safe from? Rival drug dealers who want your turf or to kill your trade?"

Time had appeared to stop when he stared at me. For an inarguable amount of time, things grew uncomfortable. He suddenly burst out into a fit of laughter that startled me, but also pulled me into smiling. "That's very cute, but I'm not a drug dealer. You know very well what I do, and I do nothing more beyond that."

"Is this going to be a conversation on semantics?” I curved a brow, slightly disappointed in the fact nothing would change. He still lied to me. “Would you prefer the term street pharmacist? Or maybe, you don't exactly sell on the street, because you have people who do it for you, so you aren't technically a dealer, but a logistics specialist? The person who makes sure the shipments from drug infested foreign country A get to state B in the United States?”

"It's not going to be a conversation at all. Your phone?" He held out his hand, waiting.

I glared at him.

"You might overtake me in a sense of humor, but you won't overcome me in strength. Don't make me ask again."

Grumbling, I handed it to him. He slid a brand new phone from his pocket and handed it to me. "This is now yours." Walking toward the foyer, he opened the front door. "Ready?"

THE BEAUTIFUL ATMOSPHERE and the privacy of the high and tall booths rendered the restaurant romantic. As wine was poured in my glass alone, I fingered my place settings, wondering if it would’ve been best to leave with my father despite what my heart wanted. Elias had been quiet…too quiet. Something weighed heavily on his mind, and I hadn’t the slightest idea of what it could’ve been.

“May I ask you something?”

Alerted, I shot a furtive glance in his direction. “You're not the kind of man who asks permission. Why change now?”

“Because the question is delicate.”

My spine became rigidly straight. I tried to appear casual by folding my arms across my lap. “Okay. Ask.”

“Are you bisexual?”

Reaching up, I touched my neck, feeling the familiar irritating burn. “Where…did that come from?”

“Mateus had eyes on you at the party, ensuring no one touched you. While one of the individuals that did paid for it, I’m not sure what to do with the other.” He leaned back, rubbing his lip and studied me carefully. “And…I have other reasons for asking.”

“The first person I ever slept with and had a relationship with was a woman,” I stated just as nonchalantly as I could. In my view, it wasn't a big deal. I’d never been a fan of labels and believed the gender of the person you loved was unimportant. The only thing that mattered was the reason why.

His eyebrows lifted in unison, and he shifted to find comfort in his chair. “You
were
…a virgin.” His realization read as a startling accusation.

I wrung my hands underneath the table, finding it difficult to keep up the eye contact he demanded we have at all times. “Some would think because I’d never experienced penetration, I was still a virgin. That's a really weird definition. Sex is sex. Just because there wasn't penetration from a penis, it didn’t mean I was still a virgin. I’ve slept with women. A few of them. When it came to men—you are the first man I’ve had intercourse with, but that didn’t make me a virgin.”

He folded his arms, his lips twitching into a smirk. “In my opinion, if a man hadn’t been inside of you, you were still a virgin." There was an edge to his tone, indicating if I tried to argue, it would become a short-lived debate in which he would’ve eventually won by default—even if I felt he was wrong.

I let his misogynistic statement remain untested, and I shrugged it off. I knew what I believed and always would. I wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Okay, Elias, if that's what you believe."

“Am I the first man you’ve been in a relationship with?”

I shook my head. “The second.” I told the truth in the moment, because I didn’t count what I had with Roth as a relationship. The first man was more or less a test subject. I never developed a sexual attraction to him, despite the fact our intimate moments included everything but intercourse. The day before I decided to break up with him—because the relationship was going nowhere—he broke up with me because he said I was distant and emotionally inept.

"Do you still have the desire to be with a woman when you’re with a man?”

“When I’m with someone,” I explained, “I’m with them.”

“I don’t think that’s completely true. I wondered what drew you to Skylar. You know how virulent she is, but you’re loyal to her. What I’m getting at is I know you’re sexually attracted to her.

“I want to give you what you want, Hanley. While being with another man is out of the question, I can make an exception for another woman with certain rules.” He reached across the table and gestured for my hand. I slid it across the table, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with mine. “I want you to be completely comfortable and fulfilled with me. I won’t ever try to stifle who you are.”