Racing to Love: Eli's Honor (20 page)

He could take her needing to help him out of love, but not the guilt that she still apparently felt. Eli took the medicine and handed the glass of water back to her. After she placed it back on the table, he took her face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, you have to quit thinking that you owe me anything. You don’t…you never have and you never will.” He leaned toward her and fire shot down his spine. Laying his lips against her forehead, he gave her a soft kiss before giving in and mumbled. “Please. I’d appreciate it.”

With a timid, innocent touch, she reached for the hem of his shirt, the move leaving them close enough for him to feel the warmth of her cheek against his. She took her time helping him remove the t-shirt, and he greatly appreciated her tenderness, knowing she was trying to not cause any more sharp spikes. But as the cotton eased over his face, Eli caught the wide-eyed stare she had focused on his chest before she rushed to stand, laying the shirt over the arm of the couch.

“I know Molly said you’ve told her no, and I don’t want to step where I shouldn’t, but would you…um, let me help? Maybe we could find someone…just so you don’t hurt so badly?”

The pain that now haunted her eyes tore at his heart, and he found it much harder to turn her down than Molly’s countless attempts. Eli broke away from her gaze and nuzzled his face against her outstretched arm, soaking up the feel of her soft skin, and inhaling the sweet smell of her perfume. He didn’t answer—but he didn’t tell her no.

Standing, he took her hand and let her guide him to the rug, easing himself to the floor. He stretched out on his stomach while she waited. The first touch of her gentle fingers against his skin caused him to suck in a sharp breath, but not because of the pain in his back. Then her hands slipped him into a trance. She appeared to be reading winces, grunts, and his breathing, paying special attention to where it hurt the most, and where she needed to lighten her touch.

Eli had no idea how much time passed. Her fingers kneaded here, swept gently across his skin there, and it felt amazing until she shifted and he felt her bent knees on either side of his ass as she straddled him.

Oh my God.

Out of sheer force, he willed himself not to show any outward surprise. That didn’t mean his heart rate hadn’t just skyrocketed, though. Her hands never stopped, rubbing up and down his spine, massaging the muscles in his shoulders. Apparently, she didn’t think anything of her position—at least not what he was thinking.

It worked wonders.

The pain that rolled from his back and into his hip before was nothing compared to the pain now in his pants. Not able to see her firsthand, the mental picture he created, of Honor on top of him, was quite erotic, although he wished he wasn’t the only one with only half their clothes on.

Wrong move. He needed to quit picturing her long auburn curls against her ivory skin. He needed to quit picturing her in general. Hell, he needed to quit thinking period. The hard-on he was now suffering from was getting worse with every stroke of her fingertips across his skin.

Testing himself, he moved subtly under her, waiting for the rush of needles to stab him. They didn’t come. The woman was an angel…his angel.

In one fluid motion, Eli rolled over, grasping for her hips to hold her in place. She lost her balance, falling forward, bracing herself with her hands, and her eyes open wide. This was exactly where he wanted her, on top of him, her mouth mere inches from his own. Well, maybe not exactly there. He’d rather have her in his bed without her clothes on. Even through the denim, the heat from her legs was scorching.

Honor gasped at the shock, but made no other sound—or move.

Their bodies were lined up perfectly, and judging by the quick breaths he felt across his skin, she felt the effect she’d had on him. He was going to be damn lucky if he didn’t end up with a permanent zipper indention, proof of how well Levi’s were made, for sure. Being afraid to move didn’t mean anything to his body, though, and Honor’s eyes went wide with every involuntary twitch, letting him know she’d felt it too.

Eli hadn’t premeditated the scene, and then time felt like it drifted into slow-motion. Keeping one hand pressed against her hip, not letting her escape their connection, he reached the other toward her face. Drawing her down, he brought her mouth close enough to hover over his own.

“Honor,” he whispered against the satin soft skin of her lips.

Her brow furrowed, but after a long moment, she lowered herself, bracketing his head with her forearms on the floor. With her hands near his ears, he could hear as she bunched the long strands of the rug under him. The turmoil swirling around her was palpable. Her cheeks were a warm pink, her eyes darkened by desire, but it was uncertainty that lined her face.

“Eli, we…I can’t.” Her soft argument died as her eyes drifted shut.

He didn’t let go of the back of her head, but he did relinquish the power, giving it back to her, making the decision to move—either forward or backward—completely hers alone. For several pounding beats of his heart, neither of them dared do anything but breathe. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watched, reading every nuance as it crossed over her face. Her breasts, although covered, were pressed against his chest, and each shaky breath she took—he felt.

Guilt slammed into him.

The need swirling around him shut his brain down, putting her in a position that could only make her feel as if she was letting him down, for the second time in one day. Taking the time to choose his words carefully, he silently crafted the second sentence of his apology when Honor took a turn with a surprise of her own, gifting him her kiss.

Soft and warm, she was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure of herself, or maybe she was nervous about what one sweet kiss could lead to. She pressed her lips gently into his, but it was the time she took drawing back that spoke volumes. Her eyes were still closed and she, ever so slightly, wet her lips. Every nerve in his body was on alert—the electricity between them biting and arching as he watched and waited for her next move.

He saw the lines appear across her forehead right before she lowered her head, almost as if she was afraid of herself, afraid to accept what he was offering, but wanting it just the same. Eli wanted to take over, to show her how good they would be together, and how good he could make her feel. It took every bit of strength he had to hold back, as if he was stepping out onto fragile ice with no hope of saving himself if things went badly—or worse, with no way to rescue Honor.

So he waited.

It had been several agonizing minutes, and without opening her eyes so he could give her the encouragement Eli knew she needed, Honor moved. Instead of off, she laid her cheek against his heart and he melted. She still had her knees tucked up, probably afraid to stretch out and put any weight on his back. Eli didn’t say anything, inhaling sharply as instinct kicked in and he wrapped his arms tightly around her. One hand fisting in her hair, not pulling, but a move he made to secure himself in the blanket of soft curls now covering him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered.

Honor didn’t answer, not with words. She remained silent, but rubbed her cheek against his bare skin, nuzzling and tucking herself tighter into him, wedging her face into his neck. He knew then she wanted his comfort. However, that knowledge sent his heart into his throat, because the one thing he was scared of—was true. Eli feared that the voice inside her was the one opponent he wouldn’t be able to overcome.

****

Sunday dinners were always a production at James and Karen’s house. No matter how many were at the table, it was always loud, fun, and the laughter could probably be heard a half-mile down the road. It was Eli’s sense of family, and he loved those meals more than going out to the fanciest of restaurants.

He had always been close to his own family, with his grandmother at the center of it all. Before he was even a teen, she passed, and his own family lost the connection he loved. His parents and his aunt and uncle all worked too much to carry on the same traditions, so the gatherings he loved as a kid quickly went by the wayside.

That was probably why he’d fallen in love with
Pennsylvania years before when Molly made him come home with her. At which point, he never left. He’d finished his racing career, albeit not under perfect circumstances, but from that first visit on, he considered his home to be on the Noland property.

Honor passed him the basket of rolls on one side, and Brody handed him a bottle of beer on the other side. Jokes, tales, and teasing arguments filled the room. Half a dozen conversations were being carried on at the same time. The volume wafted through the large open space of the main floor, laughter and the clinking and clanging of silverware against china bounced off the walls. Chairs slid over the wooden floor as various requests were filled. Chance, Jack, and Alex made sure they weren’t left out of any conversation.

It was his favorite part of the week. Hands down.

Eli tried to tell Honor her first night in town that these family dinners were a ritual none of them missed unless absolutely necessary. The occasional student who was away from his or her family was invited, but for the most part it was just family, although very little of it was blood. They were family in every sense of the word, bonded tighter than most biological families, sharing the good, the bad, and every day in between. They celebrated the ups, and stepped in to pick up the pieces before things could fall apart when life threw its curves—and Eli would do whatever it took to make Honor and Dallas a part of that.

They both needed the connection and love his family offered…and he needed them. Both of them.

He kept a watchful eye on Honor and
Dallas, making sure they felt comfortable. Both were quiet, and he assumed very unaccustomed to large, rambunctious family get-togethers. From what she told him, their family dinners consisted of her, Dallas, and, a few times a week, Mac. Nothing compared to the noise and the amount of food at this table. He grinned seeing Dallas’s eyes go wide at the platter of homemade brownies Emery conveniently set down close to him. She roughed up his hair and headed back into the kitchen for another pan of whatever else the girls had baked up.

Pushing his empty plate back a couple of inches, Eli slid his left hand over Honor’s thigh underneath the table. Sipping the second glass of wine James poured for her, she glanced his way and smiled. The sweetness of her simple smile was enough to send a jolt straight to his heart.

He would have to thank James later. The man didn’t realize how much easier it was to talk to her when her walls were lowered with alcohol.

Dallas
started laughing, loud enough to catch Eli’s attention. Taking in the proud smirk on Jesse’s face who was sitting next to him, he assumed the famous horror stories of their youth were being dragged out to entertain the young rider—probably with the embellishment that time adds.

Eli shook his head and pointed at Jesse, “Frost, you just remember for every lie you tell my boy, I’ve got three on you.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Dallas’s face changed at the words
my boy
. Eli had meant it. He winked at Dallas to confirm it. Dallas smiled big in return, and then his eyes went wide as Jesse’s story continued.

“Son, I mean it. Don’t you believe a word that man tells you,” Eli said loudly across the length of the table. “They’re lies, all of ‘em.”

The table erupted once again. James smacked the table with his palm as tears formed in his eyes. Eli knew any minute now, the patriarch sitting at the head of the table was going to be providing even more dirt on them all.

“
Dallas, you stick with me, honey. Those boys are bad news. Every last one of them,” Karen teased looking around the table, eyeing each one of the men surrounding it, spending an extra second on her own husband. The
ringleader
as she often lovingly called him. The eye rolls and denials made Dallas laugh even harder.

Eli’s chest swelled. Everyone had taken the quiet boy in, welcomed him and his mother with open arms. He hadn’t doubted it for a minute, but it still gave him a sense of pride to see them becoming a part of the family. Being teased, hugged, and made fun of all in the name of love. Eli bit his cheek, trying not to smile as they all watched
Dallas help Alex climb up in his lap and proceed to share his dessert.

Alex started in with her own private conversation with
Dallas as she picked bites off his brownie. Eli watched as he fell into the story, talking back and asking questions as if they were the same age and had been friends forever. The boy might not even think anything about it, but from what Eli had heard, Dallas’s name was mentioned a lot around Molly and Carter’s house. Luckily, she was young enough that it was still cute.

Leaning into him, Honor whispered, “She sure seems to like him.”

“I think she’s made that downright obvious.” Eli grinned proudly at Dallas. “He sure is sweet to her and takes really good care not to hurt her feelings in any way.”

Honor simply smiled in answer, then turned to her side as Karen stole her attention away from him.

After two beers and too much food, Eli’s hidden hand on her thigh moved upward in a more visible sign of affection when he draped his arm over her shoulders. He expected she’d pull away, but she hadn’t. Honor was very subtle and cautious, but over the course of the evening, she settled into his side. Her soft laughter and gentleness pulled at his heart. She could keep up with the banter and teasing that the guys dished out, but with grace and poise. Her quiet, witty retorts often earned the loudest round of laughter.