Page 38 of Ruling Scar
“Pick a better nickname,” I tell him, reaching for the door.
He pushes it closed, confining me in the small hallway. His chest is an inch from mine and I remember how tall he is as I look up. “Text me when you get home.”
I manage to nod, a warm amber scent filling my nose.
“And when you wake up,” he demands.
I think he’s taking this whole pretend relationship a bit too seriously but I nod.
“Kiss me goodbye.”
My brows hit my hairline. “W-what?”
There’s no merriment, but also no mirth. He keeps his face blank, his eyes dark and unreadable. The cut of his jawline is sharp, but his brown hair soft in the hall light. Despite the late hour, he wears a button-down shirt and the strap of his watch is made out of black leather.
Albert squeezes in between us, his paws stamping on my feet. It does nothing to push Elijah’s firm chest away from me.
“Kiss me goodnight.” His voice is quiet, but the words demanding.
My lips part but my brain and mouth don’t work.
Elijah’s the type to see his advantage and take it. For some reason, he doesn’t move an inch.
I lift on my tip toes, my fingers brushing his chest for balance. He remains frozen, not even the slightest hint of movement.
Softly, gently, and hopefully in a way that doesn’t scream ‘she doesn’t know what she’s doing!’, I press my lips to his.
My heels drop down to the ground. “Okay, bye.”
I turn and wrench the door open. He slams it shut.
“Elijah!”
My back falls into the door again, his arms caging me.
Those damn unreadable eyes stare down at me.
His fingers skim my jaw, forcing my chin up. If I think he’ll claim a kiss, I’m wrong.
He starts with my forehead. Then my cheek. All gentle brushes along my skin. His lips kiss the corner of mine.
My chest rises and falls, but his calm manner rubs off on me. For a second I’m no longer rigid. My shoulders relax. I lean into him, anticipating his delicate kisses.
His lips pause on mine and I swear I lift on my tiptoes again.
The camera on his phone clicks.
I shove him back. “What the fuck!”
He checks his phone, which I try to see, before tucking it away in his pocket and opening the door.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
“What was that?” I ask as I follow him down the metal stairs. It’s not so creepy down here when there’s someone with you.
He opens the giant door downstairs with a groan, ducking his head out. Seeing the door open, my driver gets out.
“Text me when you’re in the car.”
