Touch Me (4 page)

“Dinner
was wonderful. Thank you for inviting me.” She smiled, and he was glad to see
there were no more visible nerves showing from her. She seemed relaxed in his
company, and that made him happy.

But
still, he had this urge to hold her, to kiss her … to make her his. She was so
different from what he was used to, and damn was that a good thing, a
refreshing thing. Being with her made him feel like he wasn’t alone, that his
life didn’t have to be lonely and solitary. All of these feelings came out of
the blue, but the fact remained they were real. Despite always being surrounded
by people because of his profession, spending these last few hours with Freya
made him feel … alive.

He
didn’t know why he felt like this, but he knew he wasn’t going to walk away
from what he felt for her. He couldn’t.

Chapter
Seven

This
might be what a stalker did, or at the very least a very creepy man. Elijah
stared at Freya’s house, a house he’d lived in for several years, but now it
seemed foreign, almost as if he’d dreamed the entire thing. But he hadn’t moved,
and instead was just sitting in his car, not having the nerve to go up and ring
the doorbell because he worried about what she might say at his unexpected
arrival.

It
had only been a few days since Freya had come to his house and they’d had
dinner. He’d said he’d call, that they’d meet up again, but nothing had been
set in stone, and he was really just trying to go off of her body language on
how to proceed next. But he hadn’t tried calling in these last few days, not
sure what he’d say without coming off as persistent. He wanted to see her
again, wanted to have dinner, see a movie, hell,
do
something normal that people did on dates.

A
date.

Yeah,
he wanted to take her out on a fucking date, but bringing this up to her,
telling her that, might be the very worst thing he did. It could ruin their
friendship, make her feel weird being with him, or even just conversing with
him. She’d especially feel that way if she had no feelings for him and he’d
totally read her wrong.

Elijah
hadn’t even been on a date in years, couldn’t remember the last time he even
was interested in a woman long enough to want to spend more than one night with
her. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his nerves running wild
inside of him. But just as he was about to start his car and leave, maybe call
her later and talk to her, the front door opened and she stepped outside. She
had a large brimmed hat on, sunglasses in her hand, and was wearing these
little shorts that had his cock instantly hardening. God, even now, with just the
sight of her, all he could think about was how much he wanted her. But even if
he had her in his bed Elijah knew it wouldn’t just be for that one night.

He
sat there for a few seconds, watched as she made her way over to the side of
the house where the garage was, continued to watch as she grabbed a bag of
potting soil, and proceed to start planting flowers in the pots by the side
door. It was such a mundane act, but it still brought a smile to his face,
knowing that she was at a comfortable place in her life, and in this house.

He
knew she’d hated living here, especially after her father passed away. Legally
she’d had to stay with Meghan as she was her legal guardian, and Freya had no
other family, but even still being around a person that she hated, in a place
that had to have memories, was an awful thing.

Elijah
let go of the steering wheel and climbed out of the car. He walked over to
where she was, clenching his hands at his sides when she reached out and
grabbed a gardening tool, the shorts she wore molding to her ass. God, she had
a gorgeous ass.

Focus, man. Fucking focus.

He
stopped right behind her, and could hear the music coming from the ear buds she
had in her ears. She didn’t know he was standing right behind her, and that
made him feel even more like a fucking creep. He reached out and touched her
shoulder, and she jumped and made a squeaking sound of surprise. She spun
around, pulled off her glasses as if on instinct from her fear, and pulled her
ear buds out.

“Elijah?”
she asked and squinted. The sun was behind him, and without her glasses on he
could see a swatch of light cross over her face.

“Hey.
Sorry for just showing up like this.”

She
stood, brushed off her hands on her shorts, and smiled. “No, don’t be sorry.
I’m surprised to see you, but it’s nice you’re here.”

He
shoved his hands in his jean pockets, didn’t know what the fuck he was doing
here or what he was supposed to say.

You know why you’re here. You know
you want her, want her to desire you the same way. Be a man and grow a set. She’s
not a kid. She’s a grown woman, and you’re not with Meghan anymore. This isn’t
wrong.

“I
should have called, but I was in the neighborhood.”

Fucking liar.

She
smiled, and the way it looked on her told him she knew he wasn’t telling the
truth.

“You’re
at least a half hour from here, and that’s if traffic isn’t bad,” she said and
chuckled.

Yeah,
she’d just called him out on his lie, and all he could do was laugh.

“I
wasn’t in the neighborhood, obviously.”

“I
figured,” she said as she laughed. “You want to come inside for something to
drink?”

Elijah
nodded. He followed her toward the front door, and once inside he took a look
around. She’d remodeled, or at least superficially she did. The house was still
structurally the same, but he was pleased to see she’d made it her own.

He
walked into the living room when she went into the kitchen. The couches were
new, gray with white and yellow bulky flowers all over them. There was a light
yellow rug under the glass coffee table, a few floor lamps, and the pictures on
the wall were black and whites of her mother and father, and of what he assumed
were her friends from college. But one picture piqued his interest, even had
his heart racing a little.

He
walked up to it, picked it up off the bookshelf, and the longer he stared at it
the more his body tightened. It was a picture of him and Freya the day she went
off to college. He remembered that day well, remembered everything about it, in
fact. She was smiling at the camera, and he had his arm wrapped around her. Meghan
had been the one taking the picture, and she’d bitched the entire time. Fuck,
she was such a bitch to both of them, but to Freya especially, and he hated her
for that.

He
smoothed his finger over Freya’s image, her sweet, young face, the fact she’d
been so broken back then.

“Is
it weird I still have that, that I display it?”

He
set the picture back and turned to face her. She held two glasses of what he
assumed was lemonade. “Is it weird that I like the fact you still have that?”
He said it like a question, but he was teasing her … mostly. He did like that
she had it. Elijah walked up to her and took the glass she held out for him.
They went over to the couch and sat down, and for a few seconds neither spoke.

“I
like what you’ve done to the place.” He hadn’t realized how clichéd it sounded
until the words were out of his mouth. “You’ve really made it your own.”

“Thanks.”

He
looked over at her and saw she was smiling. She looked around the room, brought
the glass to her mouth, and took a sip from it. He watched her lips curve
around the rim of the glass, saw the drop of condensation move down the glass
and drip onto her chest.

Fucking hell.

He
lifted his gaze back to her face, saw she was watching him, and for the first
time in his life he was embarrassed. Yeah, she’d just caught him being an
asshole and checking her out. He should apologize, because that sure as hell
would have been the right thing to do, but then again that would mean he’d be
admitting to being inappropriate, and he didn’t want it to be uncomfortable.

“Why
did you really come by today, Elijah?” she asked, but it was spoken softly,
curiously. There was no accusation in her words. “Not that I don’t like
spending time with you, because I do.” She smiled. “I’m just curious.”

She
had every right to feel a bit weird that after all these years he was here, in
her living room, drinking lemonade. He hadn’t tried to contact her after that
first time, and although he thought about her, work and life in general had
gotten in the way.

It
was a shitty excuse.

He
set the glass on the table, leaned back on the couch, and stared at that
picture that was of the two of them four years prior. “I thought about you a
lot when you were away. I wanted to call, but I guess shit just got in the way
of what I really wanted to do.” He looked at her then. She’d shifted on the
couch so she was facing him fully now.

“I
wanted to call you, too. I thought about you a lot, wondering what you were
doing, how things were.” She looked at her hands that were in her lap. “I read
about you in those big name papers though, knew you were doing well.” She
lifted her head again. “Things were just busy and hectic, for both of us.”

“I
know. It’s easy to let life get in the way.”

She
nodded. “I’m really glad I came back and we ran into each other again.” She
sounded nervous again, but it was understandable.

He
was nervous too, and the way she was moving slightly on the seat, as if she
couldn’t control her nervousness, told him that this attraction wasn’t just one
way. Right now her cheeks were rosy, her pupils dilated, and her mouth slightly
parted. Did she realize that these little telltale signs of her attraction to
him made him feel like a beast ready to pounce, ready to take down its prey?

And she’s the prey, the vulnerable,
innocent prey that you want to devour like a damned depraved beast.

They
stared at each other for several seconds, neither speaking, but the heat and
electricity moving between them tangible. Yeah, he knew if he stayed here any
longer he might do something that jeopardized their friendship, even if she was
acting like she wanted him. Elijah didn’t want to push things, or cross that
fucking line, but he also knew he wouldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t.

****

Her
heart was beating a mile a minute, but she was trying to keep her composure.
The thing was, she knew she was doing a shoddy job at it, knew Elijah could see
the emotions written clearly across her face, in her body language. She kept
shifting her body on the couch, she knew that, but the fact was he stared at
her, looked at her with those piercing eyes, his big body so masculine, so
powerful, that everything in her was nervous, on edge.

“Freya…”
He said her name softly, but deeply. His voice could make a woman drop their
panties and grab their ankles, and as crude as that statement was, Elijah was
one of those insanely handsome, magnetic men. He could make women do whatever
they wanted with just a snap of his finger, with just a lift of his eyebrow. He
was so attractive in his suits, but in this casual attire, the jeans and loose
fitting shirt, he screamed masculinity.

He screams masculinity, sexuality …
power, no matter what he wears or how he acts.

“I
really want to kiss you right now.” He leaned in an inch closer, his arm on the
back of the couch as he came closer and closer. She didn’t move, couldn’t.

“I
think I want that, too.” She could have groaned in humiliation at the fact
she’d said she
thought
she wanted
that, too. Of course she wanted that. Yeah, she
really
wanted him to kiss her.

They
looked at each other for several more seconds, neither speaking, but their
breathing slowly becoming quicker. She could see signs of his arousal for her,
could see it in the way he held himself stiff, his big body coiled. Although he
looked in control, his expression showing nothing, his hands were bunched into
tight fists, his lips slightly parted, and his gaze was trained on her mouth.

She
could tell he was losing control, as well.

Freya
wanted to be bold, to take what she wanted like she’d never done in her life
before, but of course she was afraid. But she wasn’t that teenager anymore, who
didn’t see herself as having a meaningful future. She didn’t see herself as
lost in a world that had no place for her.

So,
finding that strength deep inside of her, knowing that what she was about to do
might be wrong to many people, Freya just took what she wanted.

Leaning
forward she was a hairsbreadth away from Elijah’s mouth now. They kept hold of
each other’s gazes, and then he reached out, wrapped his hand in her hair
behind her head, and yanked her forward. Freya had to brace her hands on his
chest from the force of him pulling her closer, but she loved that, loved that
he wanted her so close.

He
pressed his mouth to hers, and for a second they stayed like that, neither
moving, neither seeming to breathe. His pectoral muscles were so hard beneath
her palms, so powerful. She curled her nails into his shirt, heard him hiss,
but when she was about to pull her hands away he groaned against her mouth.

“No,
Freya. I like it, like your hands on me,” he said against her mouth. And then
he was kissing her harder, more thoroughly, like he couldn’t get enough. He
swept his tongue out, licked at her bottom lip before doing the same to her
top. Over and over he did this, just licking her sensually, slowly. She was
wet, so damn wet between her thighs that shifting to try to relieve the arousal
rooted there only made it worse.

“Elijah,”
she breathed out his name, not knowing exactly why she’d done it, but loving
that because she had, he pulled her tighter to him. Their chests now touched,
her breasts molded to his hardness. She opened her mouth for him, touched her
tongue with his, and it was like fireworks exploded inside of her, rendering
her motionless.