Loveless (16 page)

I rear back, but he doesn’t let me get far.

Damn it, I told that to Sophie in confidence!
Note to self: watch what I tell her.
Just as I suspected, Sophie has no qualms about passing information over to her best friend.

He must read my facial expression, because he leans down to speak near my ear. “Don’t be mad at her. She knew I was fucking dying to see you.”

Must. Not. Melt.
Too late. “No doubt the two of you planned this whole thing out.”

I feel him smile against my cheek. Insufferable man.

Just then, a remix of Tove Lo’s “Talking Body” comes on.

Our eyes meet the moment we both recognize the song. Eli’s lips stretch into his wide, mischievous smile as Tove sings about fucking for life.

I try to rein in my reaction. Useless. He has to be the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and he’s wrapped all around me, hands on my ass—an ass he clearly thinks he owns
.
His hips move in sinful circles that I can’t help but follow.

“Is this how you’re going to move when you ride me baby?” He laps wetly at my ear.

“
Yes
,” I whimper into his. “Tonight. Right now, Eli. I want you under me. Inside me.”

His fingers tighten in a fist around the material of my tank top. “Fuck. Me.” The hand still on my ass kneads me. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“No. I’m trying to fuck you. You’re the one being stubborn about it.”

“When was the last time you came?”

The question catches me off guard.

Damn it, how the hell can he read me so well?

“Paige, tell me.”

No way.

“I can’t even jerk off anymore. My cock knows it’s not you. Won’t let me come. It’s driving me insane.” Hearing him groan so close to my ear keeps messing with my brain. “I have so much fucking come for you.”

Game over. Common sense gone. I writhe on his thigh, losing the rhythm of the music entirely. “Then give it to me. I’m dying for it.”

“Yeah? Deep inside your soft, wet little pussy?”

God.
“Yes, yes!
Please
.”

He yanks my head back and devours my mouth. He kisses me like he kissed my pussy the day he ate it—out of control, ravenous.

I cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck. So much for hiding how much I want him.

Eli grabs my hand and practically flies through the crowd, using his size to muscle everyone out of the way.

I have no idea where he’s taking me. Can’t stop him to ask. The man seems hell-bent on getting wherever he’s going.

We rush off the dance floor, up a short flight of steps on the other side of the bar. More of that luscious, red, Victorian wallpaper. A long seating area with brown, leather-backed booths on either side.

He leads me past all of that, to what seems to be the back of the restaurant area. A left turn, then another one a few steps down the hall.

Suddenly, he spins around, pushing me up against the wall.

Banks’ “Begging for Thread” comes on through the speakers.

We both freeze for a second, eyes meeting. An acknowledgement of the lyrics. Of the crazy, out of control thing between us. Pure, chaotic lust.

Eli steps close, palming my exposed thigh and lifting my leg up on his hip. The music is lower where we are, so I have no problem hearing him when he says, “It’s not just about the sex, Paige.”

I clamp my lips shut, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his statement. Because . . . because somewhere vulnerable inside me, I’m starting to believe he’s right.

That scares the ever living crap out of me.

He trails his fingers across the back of my thigh, making me shiver. “What? No denial? We must be making progress.”

Damn him to hell. Fisting the hair at the back of his head, I kiss him.

The way he chuckles into our kiss tells me that my reaction is answer enough for him. His hand slides between my thighs and makes quick work of popping the button of my shorts. The zipper is lowered and then his hand slides inside.
Contact.
He slips two fingers underneath my thong, tracing my wet clit. I almost fly off the wall, my body vibrating with need.

My head falls back into the wall, my body straining against his. “Eli! Oh yes . . .”

“So fucking hot,” he groans out, sliding his middle finger inside me. “Your pussy’s weeping for it.” He leans down, licking a trail up my neck. “Do you need me inside you baby?” When he thrusts his finger into me shallowly, I lock up around him, my eyes rolling back in my head. “Do you need my cock pumping deep in here?”

“Yes!” I cry, biting his jaw. His neck. “Oh God, Eli. I want to eat you. I want you inside me so bad.” Hazily, I realize that I’m rambling, confessing things I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. “I want to lick you.” I lick his earlobe and pull it into my mouth, sucking softly. “Want to suck you.”

“
Paige
,” he moans, dragging out the syllables. Grabbing my right hand with his free one, he puts it on his cock, making me feel how hard he is. “I can’t take it anymore. You’re all I want. All I can think about. I’m going crazy for you. Won’t last much longer.”

“Then don’t. Don’t wait anymore. Take me.”

He moans brokenly again, thrusting his fingers in circles inside me. “Tell me you’ll be mine. That you’ll give me a chance. Tell me and I’ll take you home right now. I’ll be inside you, fucking bare.”

I hiss in a breath. Desperation rises, heat obliterating my common sense. I’m close. So close to giving into him. Giving him what he wants.

Hand shaking, Eli pulls down the top of my loose tank, baring my bra. He yanks the cups beneath my tits, pushing them up.

The cool air hits my tight nipples, making them impossibly harder. He watches them with barely leashed intensity. “Shit. I need those back in my mouth.” He sucks my nipple into his hot mouth, pumping his fingers inside me at the same time.

Cupping his head to keep him at my breast, I watch him. Eyes closed, he sucks on me, cheeks highlighted by his stubble. He’s so fucking gorgeous. How can I deny him anything?

“Getting wetter.” Eli rubs his soft lips across my damp nipple and presses the palm of his hand into my clit. The movement pushes his finger as deep into me as it can go. “Say you’re going to be my girl.”

The first time he’s come out and bluntly stated what he wants.

Hearing it should frighten me.

Something wild inside me snaps at hearing him call me “his” girl.

I open my mouth to tell him that, yes, I’ll give him a chance. That I’m ready to be his—

His palm presses into my clit again.

As the pleasure explodes inside me, I can do nothing but struggle to breathe, hearing the low, needy whimpers leaving my throat.

Days of needing this . . . of not being able to come because it wasn’t his hands on me . . .

“Goddamn baby.” Eli pinches my nipple, watching me hungrily as I continue to fall apart for him. “The next time you come, it’ll be all over my dick.”

His dark promise sends another ripple through me.

I sag against him, trying to catch my breath.

He gathers me into him, hugging me tight and nuzzling my face with his. “You feel what I feel. Just tell me so I can take you home and make you mine.”

No denying it. I can tell myself it’s only lust all I want, but that doesn’t change the reality. He’s slid into me, hitting a place no one ever has before.

I raise my head, locking eyes with him, letting him see how scared I am of the decision I’m about to make.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

We jump apart at the sound of that voice, and I rush to hide behind Elijah so I can straighten my shirt and bra. Panicked, I focus on covering my breasts, completely oblivious to the tension in Eli’s body.

“Just because I let you fuck me here once, that doesn’t give you permission to fuck other women in my club.”

My heart drops and my breath punches out of me. What did that woman just say?

I take a step away from Elijah, finally taking in the woman before us. Tall. Blond. Beyond attractive. She’s dressed in a dark business suit, an earpiece secured to her ear.

A bouncer. Or worse, one of the managers.

And someone that Elijah once “fucked”. Right here. Probably up against the same wall he just had me on.

God, I’m such a freaking fool.

Swallowing past a suspiciously tight throat, I take off down the hall. My face burns with embarrassment because of what I did. At what I’d been about to do.

Give him a chance. Hah! Only an idiot would do that.

Clearly, I fall into that category.

“Paige!”

I go back down onto the dance floor, dodging through people, hoping to use the crowd to lose Elijah.

I barely make it outside the club before he catches up to me, blocking my path.

“Paige—”

“I’m never going to date you, or open myself up to the possibility of being
your
girlfriend.” Yes, I’m full of it, considering what I was a millisecond away from doing, but I really need him to believe that. No man will ever play with my heart ever again.

Eli reaches for me; I sidestep away from his hand. “Paige, I’m sorry about what happened in there.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

His nostrils flare. “I’m still so fucking sorry about it. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re right.”

“Fucking hell, Paige! You feel what I feel.”

Raising my chin, I look him straight in the eye, and
lie.
“No, I don’t.” I tell myself that I imagine the hurt that flashes in his eyes. I must have.

Yet, he squares his shoulders, jaw clenching. “I won’t sleep with you until you’re ready to admit what’s between us.”

“And I’m never going to admit to something that’s not true. So if you want to have sex with me, you know what you have to do.” I spin around without waiting for his response, heading in the opposite direction in search of a cab. I’m surprised he doesn’t follow me.

Then again, I have a feeling he isn’t through with me. He’s probably falling back only to regroup. Re-strategize.

Elijah doesn’t know how to give up when he wants something.

Tough luck. I meant what I said. Tonight has been a real wake up call for me.

He will never own my heart. Not even a piece of it.

He can take my virginity, but that’s all he’ll ever get. I vow it to myself.

seventeen

Paige

I tilt the bottle back up to my lips.

Nothing.

It’s empty.

Wait a second. I just opened it a few minutes ago, didn’t I?

I hold the bottle up to my face. The label’s blurry. Squinting, I look at the white Zinfandel bottle, and try to remember where all that wine went. One-point-five liters, and half of it was full when I opened it.

That couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago. I refuse to believe I drank half the bottle in such a short amount of time.

Or did I?

I roll over onto my back on the carpet and stare up at the ceiling. All I feel, all I know, is Elijah. He’s
here
with me, even though he’s really not, and it galls me. The empty throbbing between my legs is killing my mind one brain cell at a time.

My legs are propped up on my couch. I stare at my purple heels, realizing that somehow, I took off my shorts and my tanktop, but my underwear and heels are still on.

If Eli were here, he could fuck me like this. Shove down my bra like he did at the club, tear my thong off, and force me to keep my heels on while he gives it to me raw.

Dear God.

Why do I do this to myself?

Because I can’t fucking control it, that’s why.

The empty wine bottle lands on the carpet with a thud. I think I have another one, though. Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I attempt to stand.

Keyword:
attempt.

As soon as I’m on my feet, my useless knees buckle, and my even more pathetic ankles try to give out on me.

And the world? Oh, it spins. It spins and spins and spins until I’m left hanging onto the couch, back on the ground where I started, confused as to how my life has ended up this way.

I’m a hot mess.

A drunken, lingerie-clad mess that’s sprawled on the floor.

Everything’s been turned upside down.

Why?

Because of a man. A man that promised to fuck me.

A man that’s refusing to deliver.

He wants me to love him. Give him a chance.

The fucker’s out of his goddamn mind.

I can’t even think about him without losing my common sense. It’s irrational how badly I want to call Sophie, demand Elijah’s address, get in a freaking cab, and head to him. I picture myself banging on his door in nothing but my lingerie. He’d open the door with that adorably confused look on his face, take one look at me, and lick his lips in that way that makes my pussy weep with longing.

I’d attack him. Right then, right there. Just jump on him and force him to fuck me up against his door.

My phone is on the floor, feet from me. How it got there, I’ll never know, but out of the corner of my eye, I see my hand start inching it’s way there.

Call.

Sophie.

Cab.

Lingerie.

No decency.

Practically rape Elijah.

Only one part of my plan seems to be a pro. Even drunk out of my mind I can recognize what a crazy number of cons there is in my impulsive, hormone-fueled idea.

Time to revise.

Besides, that bastard will probably use the opportunity to sexually torture me some more. Considering my state of mind, I have no doubt he’ll drag an agreement to date out of me. I can already see myself throwing out that
yes
all in the name of getting some of that cock.

No. That’s not how this is going to go down. Fuck to the
no
. The day I get that dick, it’s going to be under my terms, not his. Even if that means I have to wait longer than I already have.

I hate him.

Try two of “get my drunk ass off the floor” goes smoother than the first. I’m a little wobbly on my feet but at least this time I can remain on them, and I actually make it to my kitchen. The second bottle of wine is at the back of the fridge.

Don’t get me wrong. One of the voices in the back of my head is warning me that it’s time to stop drinking. I hear it.

The other voice keeps screaming out for Elijah and I’m determined to shut that little bitch up, regardless of the cost to my wellbeing.

Hangover here I come.

Thank God the bottle is already open. I don’t trust myself with the bottle opener right now. After popping off the cork, I head back to the living room, taking each step slowly. I don’t mind falling but I’ll be fucked if I lose my last bit of wine before I pass out.

Plopping down on the couch, I take a swig right from the bottle. Yeah, I know. Real classy. I stare at the blank TV in front of me and try to zone out.

All I see is Elijah’s come face.

Fuck that bastard!

Giving up on my quasi-attempt at meditation, I reach for the remote and turn on the TV.  A rerun of LA Ink is on. As I watch Kat Von D’s sexy ass on the screen, I think about Sophie. I bet she would love this show.

Thinking about Sophie is a bad idea. No sooner than the thought crosses my mind, and Sophie’s best friend is back, front and center, an image that seems determined to torture the life out of me.

I honest to God can’t stop thinking about the man. What the hell is wrong with me? Is being horny for someone enough of a reason to have them on a constant loop throughout your mind?

The question gets shoved in the same corner as all the other questions I have no business entertaining. Frustrated, I drink some more wine and grab the remote to change the channel.

Not that it helps. The more I fight thoughts of him, the more those thoughts seem to invade my mind.

I wonder what the hell he’s up to.

Probably out trying to seduce some other idiot to give him what he needs.

The image that conjures totally fucks with my mind.

That bastard. If I find out he’s out there with another woman . . .

Whoa, Paige. Stop.

Horror. I feel nothing but vicious horror. What the hell do I care if he’s with someone else? He wants to break our agreement, the one
he
demanded when he made it clear we wouldn’t be seeing other people while messing around with each other? Good. Let him. I’ll be free to find someone else to fuck if he’s stupid enough to do that.

But I don’t want to fuck anyone else. That’s already been established.

I’m so fucking confused and it’s all his fault.

Maybe he’s online.

Impulse takes over, this time managing to hijack my entire control center. My phone’s in my hand before I realize it. The wine bottle remains tightly clutched in the other. Damn straight I’m going to need to chug this whole thing down if I see something I don’t like.

Like a post or picture of Elijah out there with another girl.

It takes me only four minutes of desperately scrolling through his timeline to realize the truth.

I’m behaving like a psycho.

This man’s dick is driving me to the brink of insanity, and I haven’t even had it yet!

I place my phone and the wine on the end table next to my couch and cover my face in my hands. This can’t be happening to me. How the hell did I fall this low? I’m fuming over the thought of Elijah with another woman and stalking him like a maniac just to make sure it’s not really happening.

I’m
jealous
.

And absolutely delusional. What the fuck do I have to be jealous about?

“
Ughhh
.” I rub my temples, anger rising. I’m in some real deep shit and in need of more help than I can even admit to myself.

Usually, I’d call my cousin Lana but she’s going through hell because of her ex. The last thing she needs is to sit there and hear my petty mandrama.

She once warned me that although sex is amazing, that I’d get a whole lot of the drama attached to it. That’s what men do, according to her. They bring in a buttload of confusion, misery, and drama in their wake.

She wasn’t lying.

I don’t really have any other friends I’m close with. No one to reach out to.

Except Sophie.

But she’s Eli’s best friend. No matter what I do or say, she’s going to take his side.

Being in this apartment by myself is clearly fucking with my head even more. I get up and head into my room to change. Maybe if I take a walk outside and get some fresh air, it’ll help calm the craziness rolling around inside me.

I’m still drunk, but I don’t plan on going far. After changing into a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt and sneakers, I pass by the living and pick up my phone just in case. I stop in the kitchen and down a glass of water in the hopes that it’ll dilute some of the alcohol in me faster.

Drinking was clearly a mistake. I can’t drown Elijah out of my mind with alcohol, and I need a clear head to make sense of what the hell is happening.

I hate the fact that merely opening my door brings back even more memories of him.

Once outside, I walk twice around the block, trying to push away thoughts of him long enough to figure out what on Earth it is that I’m feeling for him.

It can’t be anything other than lust. And, fine, maybe I care for the man as a friend, but I refuse to believe it’s anything more.

I pass by the closed Starbucks. Another pang. This is what I get for allowing my would-be fuck-buddy too close. My entire apartment reminds me of him. That Starbucks does, too.

Damn it, why haven’t I made it my mission to find more friends?

Sighing, I call Sophie, hoping that she isn’t still at the club. Or that I’m not interrupting something I shouldn’t.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “You bitch, how dare you not call me or tell me you were leaving? If Eli hadn’t told me you bolted, I’d be freaking out that someone kidnapped you!”

I cringe. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight at the moment.”

“Clearly.”

“Sophie, I really need . . .” I pause as a hiccup breaks free. Damn it, why the hell does this always happen to me when I drink?

“Paige, have you been drinking?”

“How the hell do you know?”

Sophie laughs. “I can kinda hear it in your voice. Plus, hiccups.”

“I don’t like you.” Turning away from the Starbucks, I start meandering down the block back in the direction of my house. “But I do need to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me you’re going to be as objective about this as you can.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me Elijah’s a shit-head and that only a fool would develop feelings for him.”

“Elijah is a shit-head and only a fool would develop feelings for him.”

I almost trip over my own feet. “
What
?” There’s no way I heard her right. Or maybe I did, and she’s just mocking me.

She laughs again. “Paige, the fact that I’m his BFF doesn’t mean I’m blind to who he’s been for a while. The way he’s been playing the game all these years is beyond disgusting. Not that I’m one to talk, but still.”

She’s not one to talk? I want to ask her what that means, but I don’t. It occurs to me that I haven’t really gotten to know Sophie that well, either. I mean, I felt an instant connection to her from the first day I met her, but I haven’t really delved into what type of person she is.

“
However
.”

I interrupt her with a sigh. “I knew it couldn’t be that easy.”

“Well, that man does have an insane amount of good qualities.
And
—”

“Don’t say it.” I know where she’s going with this. Don’t know how I know, but I feel it in the pit of my gut.

“It has to be said. Honest to God, he didn’t give two shits about any of the women he slept with in the last ten years. And yeah, yeah, that’s a special type of fucked up, but
you
, Paige—”

“Don’t go there.”

“He feels for you, girl. He’s so into you it’s positively disgusting.”

Knew it.

“I called you so you would talk me out of making a very stupid decision. Not for you to do exactly what I knew you would do.” I cross the street onto my block, feeling even more defeated than ever.

You see those good qualities Sophie mentioned? I know they exist. I’ve seen them, too. And I’ve told myself for weeks now that they aren’t good enough to drown out his bad qualities, and yet it’s getting harder and harder to believe that.

“And what did you know I would do?” Sophie asks.

“Try to convince me to give your best friend a chance,” I mumble dejectedly. Pulling out my keys, I open the door and head back inside.

“Oh, that’s not what I’m doing at all. I’m a firm believer that this is a choice you have to make. And that if he truly wants you to be his girl, he’s the one responsible for convincing you that’s a good idea.”

“It’s not a good idea. No offense, but if I were stupid enough to give my heart to your best friend, that asshole would probably rip it out and chew it up to bits.”