Page 1 of Elusive

Prologue

A while back — I pretend not to remember the exact date, time, and day of the week it was — I went to a Sam Hunt concert with my cousins JT and Brynn… and there he was.

Sutton Ellis.

In all his big badassery. Well over six-feet of solid muscle, green eyes, shaved head and a cocky smirk to make hearts skip a beat.

He’d traded his ticket, unbeknownst to the “other guy,” so he could sit with us. Or more specifically, sit by me. And when “other guy” came looking for his seat, Sutton sent him running scared.

It was hot.

Very hot.

And, a bit like a match made in Heaven, I may have done some scaring of my own that night. Might’ve called the bitch sitting behind us a twat, called out her lawsuit worthy nose job, and perhaps threatened to “vag drag” her outside to set her on fire.

In my defense, she insulted Bellamy, JT’s girlfriend, repeatedly, so she had it coming.

But, I digress; not pertinent to my story.

What is? Sutton called me “Sugar,” and “the Boss.”

The Boss!

He just… got me; spoke my language, right from the start. And to further prove it, he pulled out the big guns — told me he drove a Harley.

He was the first man in… ever, to truly intrigue me.

After the concert, we all went to IHOP. I ate half his pancakes, he ate all of everyone’s hash browns, and then I took him home with me.

And fell asleep.

Untouched.

Which only made me crazy with wonder how it’d feel to be touched by him.

Fast forward through a couple more serendipitous meetings, where, again, I didn’t get laid, and we’re to the part when I did.

Knowing what I’d never admit, good ol’ JT invited Sutton to a family cookout. And, one thing led to… us screwing like animals.

In my aunt and uncle’s house.

Yep, after I’d worked so damn hard to ignore all his attempts at contact, I hammered home my “unattainability” by fucking him.

Couldn’t be helped, I had to have him. And dizzy from all the wondering, avoidance, I got a little tripped up… and fell on his dick.

And now, after suffering through another long drought of feigning disinterest, I want to fall on it again.

Which is why I’m standing at his front door.

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