Page 21 of Eight Steps to Alpha

Chapter 7

“Fe,we’re done. It’s time to go home.”

The voice was deep, familiar, and made her smile in her sleep. She liked his voice, liked the tingle it caused to run the length of her skin, the comfortable rumble that rolled across her chest. It made her want to burrow a little deeper, get a little closer, just so she could hear it again. But at the same time, she was so sleepy, so deeply relaxed, that the baritone was like a southern lullaby, coxing her back to dream land.

“Fe? I don’t think she hears me. Fe?”

Eventually, another voice came from farther in the room, but this one wasn’t nearly as sexy. “She can’t weigh more than a buck, dude. Pick her up, carry her out to the car. I don’t think she’s waking up anytime soon.”

She heard some more muttering a while later, then felt warmth slip from under her body. She instinctively shivered, but soon, she was lifted again, and cradled against the warmth she craved more than the sun. She inhaled the delicious sent that reminded her of home. Of fresh laundry, the beach, mixed with a little bit of heaven. She burrowed in against him and fell quickly asleep.

* * *

“Fe?”There was that voice again. That delicious, comfortable, familiar voice. “Fe, we’re home. Wake up.”

There was a long pause, then a door opened and shut, and then another door opened and shut. “Damn it!” The voice faded, this time farther away and slightly above her.

Her body was lifted again, cradled against the familiar warmth. Bitter cold rushed over her face and skin, and her eyes fluttered, then cracked open, glancing around the courtyard. She was outside. In the dark. Someone was carrying her.

Why were they outside? Why was someone carrying her? She blinked a few times, realizing it was Elliot, and all the panic immediately faded out of her body.

He was walking with her up the staircase to their apartment, huffing and puffing before he stopped at the landing to pull his keys from his pocket. She thought about telling him she was awake, that he could put her down, but he was so warm, so comfortable, and she was so sleepy. She remained quiet, and soon, the door opened with a bang against their living room wall.

“Shit,” he whispered, causing her to almost giggle. He gripped her a little tighter, then held completely still.

He’d been telling the truth, she realized then. He really did cuss—that is, when he thought she wasn’t around to hear it.

He managed to close the door without dropping her, then carried her down the hall, where he opened the door to her room and lay her on her bed. She turned to her side, almost sad his warmth was gone, but burrowed into her mattress ready to find sleep again. She startled when he grabbed her ankle and began removing her shoes.

God, he was sweet. Possibly the sweetest human she’d ever encountered in her life. Maybe he shouldn’t forget all his mom taught him about manners. Maybe he should remember all these sweet parts. Like carrying women to bed and untying their shoe, and always being there to listen.

Soon, he was removing her flannel. Then he pulled the blankets to her shoulder and sat on the side the bed.

Her heart started pounding. Maybe because she wasn’t sure what he was doing there, or maybe because he seemed to be getting closer by the second, instead of moving farther away. She was reminded of their kiss, about all those months ago, and against her better judgement, she remained perfectly still, afraid to scare him off. If it was any other man, she would have thought they were there to take advantage, but Elliot was different. In all things, he was different.

She remembered meeting him that first day of college, where he sat in their English class studying his map. Elliot had such a thick accent then, he didn’t even have to tell her where he was from. But it was times like this, when he acted like no other man she’d ever met in her life, she wondered if he’d come from some place different. Far, far away from here.

He brushed the hair away from her face, tucking it softly behind her ear before pressing his lips to her temple. “Goodnight, Fe. Goodnight, my iron woman.” He stayed there for just a second longer, his lips pressed against her forehead, before he rose to his feet and walked across the floor.

He closed the door softly behind him, the sound causing her eyes to instantly spring open. Blurry, with unshed tears. She rolled from the bed and sat on the mattress facing her bedroom door.

“His iron woman?” she whispered. She’d never heard him call her that before. Twisting her fingers, she peered down to the floor, swallowing a heavy lump that had lodged itself in her throat. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her, or why things seemed so complicated in that moment.

All she knew was that Mary Poppins better be good to him. “She better be so good to you, Elliot Prescott.”

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