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“Elsie?” I ask.

“Yes, asshole.” She says, placing the offending empty glass on my makeshift nightstand.

Box. It’s a box.

“You sleep like the fucking dead.” She grumbles.

“No shit. I work on an oil rig that operates 24/7. Those things are loud.” I say groggily while shifting to swing my legs over the side of my bed.

When Elsie’s gaze shifts down, I realize my mistake.

I’m hard as fuck.

And having the subject of my dream standing before me in all her curvy glory is not helping.

She looks incredible, her full auburn curls framing her face perfectly to highlight the roundness of her rosy cheeks and pale complexion. She’s dressed comfortably in leggings and an oversized t-shirt, but it doesn’t detract from her beauty.

Seeing her for the first time in weeks is making me lightheaded and my cock harder than before.

I shift to try and cover my erection a little, but she gives me the courtesy of looking me in the face when she says. “Put on some clothes, and then we need to talk.” Her voice is cold and unfeeling, but there’s a slight wobble that makes me nervous.

“What? Why?” I ask, confused.

I haven’t seen Elsie in weeks, at least 28 days, to be precise. I only got home from my last rotation on the rig on Sunday earlier this week and have been sleeping away the week. I haven’t left the pool house Gunnar and Selene let me rent in days.

What could I have done to get her this worked up this early on a Saturday morning? Or is it afternoon?

“Because. I said so.” She says, turning on her heel.

Before she can leave, I grasp her by her wrist and pull her into my body so her tiny frame nestles between my legs as I sit on the bed.

At 6’ 5”, I typically tower over her, but right now, we fit perfectly together, with her lips so close to my quickening pulse.

For a moment, she’s rigid, but then her whole body melts into my embrace. I feel satisfied at the knowledge that she feels comfortable in my arms, and I relax as well.

“Marshall.” She protests half-heartedly from in my arms.

“Elsie,” I say slowly.

“Let me go.” She sighs.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” I tell her.

Being so close to me, I know she can feel how hard I am.

What she doesn’t know is that it’s for her.

For that simple kindness, I’m grateful.

“Talk to me, princess,” I murmur in her ear.

The force with which she pushes me away startles me a little, but it’s her seething expression that has me freezing in place.

“Shut it with the princess shit. I’m mad at you.” She snaps, turning once again to leave the bedroom. “I’ll be in the living room.”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” I call out as she leaves, which only earns me more muttered curses.

I chuckle at the sound of more mumbled cursing under her breath, but once she’s gone, I do as she asks and head to my bathroom to shower and dress.

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