Page 17 of Silver Foxed

“Elijah,” she says quietly, “don’t think so hard.”

I press my lips together. “I’m not.”

She gives me an Are you joking? look then rubs her thumb along my brow. “Mr. Serious is back,” she teases.

I exhale as she places both hands on my shoulders. With the after-orgasm dopamine drop, the realization of what we allowed to happen between us comes crashing down around me. My body stiffens.

“Elijah.” She digs her nails into my skin. “We’re two consenting adults. We did nothing wrong.”

I blink at her. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”

She lets out an exasperated chuckle. “It’s not that hard to figure out. I’m having the same thoughts.”

“Then why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Like I said: two consenting adults.”

“Alex,” I say quietly. “You know it’s not that simple.”“It doesn’t have to be complicated. I like you, Elijah. I wanted to take care of you. The end.”

I swallow the ball that’s formed in my throat, the words “the end” making my stomach sour. Does she want it to end? Was this that simple for her? I’m not one to treat any kind of sex as transactional. Especially now, after I’ve had a taste of her, when all I can think about is taking her upstairs and exploring the constellations of freckles on her skin, the curves and dips of her body.

The hands that I haven’t been able to remove from her hips grip her tighter at the images.

Her eyes soften, and a hopeful smile tugs at her lips. “Unless you don’t want it to end?”

I tuck a strand of wet hair behind her ear. “I said I would leave tomorrow.” The words come out with less gusto than they should have.

“Or you could stay,” she offers.

“Alex.” Her name is a pathetic whisper on my lips.

“I’ll tell you what. We go to bed, and in the morning, if you want to stay, come to my bedroom when you wake up.”

“What?” I cock my head, eyebrows raising.

“I know you’re stuck on the whole ‘me being Oliver’s daughter’ thing.”

My jaw clenches, not wanting to hear his name after I came down Alex’s throat a few minutes ago. The two things are just wrong to think about together, and it makes me sick to my stomach. Not because of what we did but because now I feel like I need to go to jail or something.

She sighs. “This doesn’t have to be more than a weekend, Elijah.”

My curiosity spikes. “What do you mean?”

“We both came here for a reason. To relax, relieve some stress. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty good right now.” She smiles.

“Yes, I am, too,” I answer. Because despite my thoughts, I do feel the best I have in years.

“Good. Then think about it. We spend the weekend together, we have some fun, then we go our separate ways. My dad never has to know.”

“He’ll figure it out eventually,” I counter, “that we were both here at the same time.”

“I’ll text my mom tomorrow and let her know what happened. This is a big house. I’ll tell her you’re staying in the guest room and we’re doing our own thing. They’ll never think more of it.”

“And this ends after one weekend?” I grip her tighter.

That playful, devilish smile turns up on Alex’s face again. “Yes.”

I contemplate her offer, considering the consequences of one of us catching feelings or of Oliver finding out.

---