Page 26 of Make You Mine

Andmy predicament leaves very little in the choice department.

I need clean clothes. Desperately. However, avoiding the temptation he represents makes a commonsense problem difficult. Especially when he’s kind. Generous. When he goes out of his way to anticipate what I need and doesn’t bring attention to my neurotic behaviors.

The small amount of clothes I grabbed in my rush to get on the road with the military escorts is now dirty, and I’m down to my last pair of panties. I’ve avoided this long enough, and as I glare at the door, I breathe in deeply to quell my nerves.

That flutter of butterflies that suddenly appears when I see him.

“Get out. Do laundry. Come back,” I whisper low, hand shaking as I turn the knob and pull. Suddenly, theMission Impossibletheme song plays through my mind, and I stifle a giggle at my ridiculousness. Here I am, tiptoeing out of the room while looking around like an idiot and shielding myself with the laundry basket Elijah was kind enough to leave for me.

Dear God, I’ve become certifiable.

Heading toward the small closet near the kitchen, I take notice of his office door being closed and pause. It’s a first.Is he in there?

That’s also the moment I realize there’s no noise—no sign ofhim...anywhere.

It’s disappointing and a relief all at once. It also makes me wonder just where he is.

Elijah’s always here, working or sitting out on the balcony watching the tide come in every evening. It’s a ritual, watching him from the entrance to the living room and out of sight, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and the bob of his throat as he sips a tall glass of iced tea.

It’s the most serene I’ve seen him. Calm and fucking beautiful.

“Where are—what the hell is that?” I whisper-shout, almost dropping the basket in my hand. There’s a deep and sudden rumble, followed closely by thethudof something hitting the floor. And even though I shouldn’t, I follow it. It takes me to just inside the living room, where I stop because what greets me there messes with my system.

With that internal clock, all women have.

Elijah Ford is here. Asleep on his couch. He’s holding on to a throw blanket in his left hand while the other hangs off the side with a phone on the floor beneath his fingertips.

“Christ, please help me,” I say low, a prayer, as a tiny snore slips past those lips. Lips I’d give anything to kiss. To taste.

I can’t stop myself, either. I’m not in control of my body. My feet carry me to him, almost close enough that his fingers brush my skin. Almost.

It’s reckless.

Stupid.

But I don’t care. The pull between us makes me do what I shouldn’t, and while I know I’ll regret this for days to come, I gingerly pull the blanket from his hand and cover him. There’s a sigh from his lips, and something mumbled—an unintelligible grunt—that quiets into a hum of approval when I kiss his forehead and then chin.

The feel of his skin on mine sears me. Destroys more of the wall I need to keep erect.

For a second, I close my eyes and savor him just like this. In secret. Privately.

Without him knowing that I had a moment of weakness.

“Sleep, Eli. I know you’re tired.”

“Stay, Ava.” Every cell in my body freezes, and I’m afraid to look at Elijah and find him staring up at me. Of being caught. “I’ll protect you.”

Those words cause my eyes to flash open, and I realize he’s dreaming. Thinking of me. Of being my hero.I’m screwedbecause this unconscious act endears him all the more to me. These emotions growing within are a torment. Unfair.

Why couldn’t I have found him in a normal setting?

At the movies. My bakery. Or even a grocery store?

We could’ve bumped into each other while on vacation, like all those movies I love to watch while curled up under a fluffy blanket on a cold night. Because without a single doubt, I know I would’ve let myself get swept up in him if I had.

With that thought in mind, I walk out of the room and toward his laundry area. I’m on autopilot as I do, putting my clothes in, setting the temp and load size, and after dropping in some detergent, I close the lid slowly. Elijah doesn’t stir, and I don’t go back to where he is.

Instead, I slip inside my room and close that door.

---