Page 33 of Hazel and Elijah Find Out: First They F*cked Around

Slowly, he took hold of the top of his pants and eased the button undone, and a sliver of his black boxer briefs peeked through the triangle. His fingers were long, and the rounded pads of his thumb and index pinched the metal tab of his zipper. Metal scraped on metal as he deliberately drew the zipper down. Inch by inch, he opened the triangle wider until I could see the base of his thick erection outlined in the thin fabric of his underwear.

I shifted my hips with my thighs pressed together, but it wasn’t enough. I was uncomfortably wet.

We stood there, frozen. The need in him ricocheted off the need in me—expanding, stretching, swelling. It strained against the few feet between us, pulling us closer. Urging us to stop thinking and just give in.

The buzz of my phone in my back pocket made me gasp.

I sighed as the spell whispered away, the intensity broken.

Elijah ran his hands through his hair and clasped them behind his neck. His jaw set firm.

Looking down at my insistent phone, I saw Millie’s name. The time on the screen revealed that I was supposed to be at her car for us to make the drive back to town. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” I said to Elijah. “I have to go. I’m late.”

His Adam’s apple worked on a swallow. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

I backed away from him, not trusting myself to even kiss him goodbye. Not when he was standing there half-dressed like the manifestations of all my fantasies.

Chapter 11

Elijah

Isetthecoolerdown on Hazel’s front porch and knocked on the door. Shoving my hands into my new pants pockets, I heard a chair slide on the floor on the other side of the door. I checked my watch to confirm I hadn’t shown up early—I was punctual, though.

My anticipation built as she neared, until the door finally opened, and she was right there in front of me. She’d traded her jeans for a dress I hadn’t seen yet. It was burgundy, with a high lace neckline and long sleeves, cupping her full breasts and cinching at the waist. The scalloped hem was closer to her waist than her knees, revealing pale skin stretching across her thighs and calves.

After the lustful way she’d watched me undress, I’d been struggling with a semi since that damn dressing room. Then Hazel opened the door wearing a dress that played with sex and modesty in the same way she did.

This was supposed to be our first date, but I didn’t see how I could cookand then eatbefore we gave in to the sexual tension between us.

I wanted her to see me as a potential boyfriend, but the chemistry between us was the same as it had been the year before—persistent, hot, demanding.

A pleased smile played on her lips as she took in my appearance. “You bought the outfit.”

I ran my palm over the soft light tan sweater. “I did. I like it.”

“I do, too.”

Taking a step closer, I laid a hand on her hip, the lace delicate under my palm. “I have a problem.”

“What’s that?” She rested her palm on my chest.

“I really want to make you this meal, but you look so good in this goddamn dress, I’ve forgotten everything I’ve ever known.”

She giggled. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Lifting one shoulder, she said, “We should probably get me out of it, then.”

Leaving the cooler on her porch, I kicked the door closed.

I pulled her to me. Arching her spine, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. My lips met hers, and the constant noise at the back of my mind quieted. There was only Hazel, and the taste of her tongue, and the feel of her heart pounding on my ribs—the texture of the fabric of her skirt over her full ass. There was only her soft moan as I pulled her tighter and scraped my teeth along her jaw.

“I love the sounds you make.” I groaned into her neck. “They’ve haunted me this whole time.”

This was good. So fucking good. If all we were was a couple of weeks—a firework blasting bright and beautiful in a dark sky—then at least it was this perfect.

But my arms felt like they belonged around her. The sweet taste of her mouth satisfied a craving I’d searched for my entire life.

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