Page 15 of Life

Eli clicks a button on the visor of his black, tricked-out GMC SUV. Up ahead, about four houses down, the smallest garage door I’ve ever seen rises on an iconic home.

“Seriously?” I take in the beautiful Victorian house. It has to be at least a hundred and fifty years old with its cone-shaped roof and circular castle-like towers. The color is the palest yellow, reminding me of a baby chick just hatched. The trim around each window and special decorative features are all a stark white. Between the yellow and white, the black shingles of the roof stick out like the lead of a number two pencil pointing to a perfectly dark starry sky.

The home is absolutely beautiful and the exact opposite of what I’d expect a rugged, bounty-hunter type to live in. Honestly, I thought he’d bring me to Tommy’s place since he now owns it. Though I’m glad he didn’t. I’m certainlynotready to enter his apartment yet.

“¿Está soplando humo por el culo?”I gasp, taking in more of the historical beauty.

He chuckles. “I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. I can think of a dozen better things to do to that fine ass, but blowing smoke isn’t one of them.”

I flick my hair to one side. “Watch it. You so much as touch my ass and I’ll break your fingers.”

He grins. “Have it your way, Spicy. Eventually, I’ll be getting it my way. Regularly.”

“You realize I was sleeping with your brother six weeks ago?”

Eli flies into the driveway, cutting off a gray Mercedes in the process, turns off the ignition, and boxes me in with his arms. The space of the car suddenly becomes miniscule when surrounded by a behemoth. “A month? He let it go a month without fucking you? Trouble in paradise?”

I let out an irritated sound he ignores. “No. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He looks at me, just stares at every facet of my face before he drags those eyes of his over my form like a physical caress. My nipples pucker and elongate under my blouse knowing what a lusty gaze like that means.

“All I know is, if you were my woman, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. A month is far too long. Hell, a day would be unbearable.”

Heat fills my veins and my pussy becomes swollen, my clit aching for attention. I swallow and lick my lips, not the slightest bit sure what to do with the desire rising to the surface in this man’s presence.

“Jesus,” he mumbles under his breath before taking one last lusty look, and then he’s gone. He opens his door and gets out of the car so fast I don’t even have time to blink.

Before I know it, I hear him open the trunk of the SUV and roughly grab my bags from the back and toss them over his shoulder as if they were light as a feather.

The silence is deafening after the heavy, awkward conversation in the car when we enter his house. With Eli, I don’t know what’s up, down, front, or back. My emotions, libido, and my common sense are spinning like a vortex around a man that is so familiar, but not.

I walk in, and I’m shocked stupid. The home is impeccably decorated. Magazine worthy. Leather couches in the living room are lush and urge the user to cuddle up and stay awhile. The kitchen is a chef’s dream. Not that I cook, but I can appreciate amazing décor when I see it. Gray granite slab countertops with top-of-the-line black appliances. Black, frosted glass drop lamps and track lighting give the space an open, classy feel.

“Do you live here?”

Eli drops his keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

I glance around and hold my arms out. “Uh, yeah. You said you have crash pads, but nothing you call home. This looks like a home to me.”

He smirks. “Just because I crash here when I’m on the West Coast doesn’t mean it can’t be comfortable.”

“You’re a bounty hunter.”

Eli walks toward the stairs, and I follow him up. “Yeah.”

“A bounty hunter who catches criminals for a living.”

“Yeah, babe. So?”

“So, how can you possibly afford a home in the heart of San Francisco in one of the most classic neighborhoods?”

I follow him down a hall. A set of double doors are open on the right leading into what could only be called a command center. I stop and enter the room as if I were invited in. On one entire wall are monitors in varying sizes. Several computers are set up on a sleek, smoked glass surface. The left wall holds a huge touch screen whiteboard they only have on those high-tech investigative shows.

“Mierda. You’re Batman!” I whisper while running a finger down the glass desk surface. “What is this place?”

Eli leans against the doorjamb, a relaxed pose he seems to take often. A small smile slips across his lips, and it makes him seem more kind, softer somehow.

“Maria, I have twelve guys working under me across the globe. I have to be able to check in on them no matter where they are.”

---