Page 35 of Crossing the Top Line

Oli: We agreed to take things slow this time.

Me: An opportunity presented itself, so I’m going to carpe this diem.

Oli: Make sure to wrap-e your diem before you carpe anything.

Oli: And don’t forget about training tomorrow.

Me: Yes, sir *kissy face emoji*

After I slide my phone back into my pocket, I turn to find Tori staring out the window at the passing street, eyes distant. I reach out slowly, sliding my arm around her shoulders and pulling her into my side. She doesn’t fight me, and even snuggles into my chest, eyes sliding closed with a contented hum.

“You’re so warm,” she whispers into the quiet of the backseat.

I chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “I’ve been told I make an excellent space heater in the cold Swedish winters.”

“By Oliver?”

The simple question catches me off guard, and I can almost hear the record scratch in my head as my thoughts come to an abrupt halt. I don’t respond, not sure how to proceed.

“I thought about asking him to join us, but then I decided I wanted you all to myself,” she goes on.

I let out a slow breath, heart skipping a beat. Of all the follow-ups I’d expected, that certainly wasn’t one of them. Now I can’t stop picturing Tori in mine and Oliver’s bed. Would she want to play Oli’s games, I wonder?

“Next time,darling,” I manage to get out.

“Bold of you to assume that I’m going to want a next time when I don’t know anything about your solo performance,” she says, and I can practically hear the smirk.

“So, this is a tryout?” I ask in a playful deadpan.

She doesn’t respond, looking out the window as the car pulls to a stop. When she sits up, I look as well. I don’t know where those fifteen minutes went, but we’ve left the French Quarter behind, and we’re parked on the curb on a residential street, the houses painted orange by the streetlights.

Opening the door on her side, she gives me a challenging look before thanking the driver and sliding smoothly to her feet. The open door frames her retreating form, an invitation if I’ve ever seen one. So, I mutter my own thanks to the driver before scrambling after her.

I’monlytwostepsup the stairs of my front porch when Elijah catches up, nearly tackling me to the painted wood. I laugh, still feeling light and bubbly from our kiss in the car. His hands are everywhere as I punch in the code to my deadbolt and push the door open, sighing as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on my neck again.

My purse hits the floor, and I shed my shoes, dropping three inches, but it hardly fazes Eli as he walks us into the open space between the front door and window, pressing into me hard from behind. I manage to keep myself from going face first through the drywall, and I moan as he finally stops teasing me and takes both of my breasts in his hands.

“God, you’re so…fuck, you’re amazing,” Eli babbles into the nape of my neck, hands squeezing and massaging me with firm, confident strokes.

I let out a breathless laugh. “I haven’t even gotten undressed yet.”

Before he can react, I turn in his grip, latching my mouth onto his, my fingers in his silky-smooth hair. He’s sweet and sour, the cranberry taste of his tongue as it twines with mine only enhanced by the strong cinnamon smell of his skin. He’s yanking at my blazer, and it falls to the floor, shortly followed by his belt. I press forward, moving us away from the wall until the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he goes down with a huff of surprise.

The house is dark, only a small nightlight in the hallway and the orange glow through the curtains illuminating our silhouettes. But even with so little light, I can see the hunger in Eli’s eyes, the predatory smile pulling at his lips. He growls and moves before I can think, grabbing my hips and pulling me down to straddle his lap.

Our lips collide again, and I swallow Eli’s moan as I grind my core down onto his lap. My fingers make quick work of his shirt, pulling it from his pants with urgent tugs and deftly popping the buttons. I try to push it off his shoulders, but he won’t let go of me, his fingers digging into my ass so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“I want to…” I start, trailing off as his tongue licks a stripe up my throat, his teeth nipping at my chin.

“I know,darling, I know. But I want to taste you first,” Eli whispers against my ear.

I rip off my shirt and he pops the latch of my bra with ease, his mouth moving down my neck again, licking and kissing his way across my collarbone until his teeth sink into the soft flesh on the top of my right breast.

My eyes fly open, my hands finding his shoulders as I hang on for dear life as he takes turns sucking on my nipples. His mouth is hot, tongue always right where I want it before I can even think to correct him. Any fear I might have had about him being out of practice with women dies on a moan as he bites down on my left nipple, pulling it away from my chest before releasing it.

I try again to remove his dress shirt, but he growls. Digging my nails into his neck, I force him to look at me.

“You’ve had your taste. Now, shirt off,” I order, though I’ll admit my panting does undermine the authority of the sentiment.

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