Page 46 of Becoming His Muse
“Sounds like he was sticking behind his work, no matter what.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Olani questioned, her middle finger circling his abdomen over his shirt.
“Definitely. As artists or any creative, we have to stand by our work. Because if we don’t, if we show doubt in it, then other people will doubt it as well.”
She nodded against his shoulder, her hand slipping under his shirt to continue drawing circles. It was quiet between them for several minutes until she broke it.
“What’s your favorite thing to do when you aren’t working?”
“It was swimming, but as of late, it’s spending time with you,” Elion responded.
Olani propped herself up on her elbow, and he turned to look at her. “Smooth.”
“Is it when it’s the truth?”
He brought his free hand up to cup the side of her face, and she leaned down, bringing her lips to his. The kiss was slow, measured as her finger continued tracing his skin, and his thumb stroked her cheek.
She shifted, moving to straddle him but never breaking the kiss. His hand on her face went to the back of her neck. His other hand slid to her ass, palming it as her hand slid to the top of his jeans. The button on them was undone, and as much as he didn’t want to stop. They had to. The last thing they needed was other people getting curious and trying to see what they were doing. Or even worse, a patrol car pulling in to check.
“Come home with me,” he requested, pulling away from the kiss. His house was closer than taking her back down to the city for them to go to hers, and he was more than willing to continue where he knew they were heading.
Olani nodded, and Elion gave her another kiss before she moved off of him. Once they were both settled in the vehicle's front, he pulled out and headed toward his house. The drive would only take them fifteen minutes.
With each of those minutes that passed, the tension in the car rose. The anticipation heightened, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t slept together before, but he supposed it was because they hadn’t in a couple of weeks.
Not that he hadn’t wanted to. It was that he hadn’t known whether having sex on their weekend away was a one-time thing, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by assuming it was more. However, she hadn’t hesitated to unbutton his pants, and she’d agreed to come home with him. They both knew what was bound to happen, and she’d consented. That was all he needed to give her what he’d been holding back on every time he’d seen her since that weekend.
When he finally pulled into his driveway, he found Clara’s car gone. Not that it would have mattered if it were there. Most nights, once nine o’clock hit, she didn’t come into the main house.
He took Olani’s hand in his as she came around the car and led her to the front door and into the house once he’d unlocked it. Every part of him wanted to get her to his bedroom, but he wanted to at least still be hospitable.
“Would you like a tour?” he asked, looking down at her.
She removed her hand from his, standing on her tiptoes; she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, lips mere millimeters from his.
“If it leads straight to your bedroom, then yes.”
He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. “If that’s what you want, Sweetheart.”
He carried her to his bedroom and placed her on the bed. His thumb ran over her cheek before his fingers ghosted down her neck. He took the hem of her shirt in his hands and slowly removed it from her, tossing it aside. Elion was going to take his time undressing her, and then he was going to take his time fucking her.
20
Olani looked herself over one last time in the mirror. It was almost six-thirty, and Elion was due to pick her up any minute. They were going dancing, followed by a late dinner. It was the date she had planned the weekend she’d gotten sick. She hadn’t been dancing in a while and was itching to go; she wanted to see Elion’s moves on the dance floor and if they’d hold up to the ones she knew he had in the bedroom.
When she told him she wanted to go dancing and to dinner, he asked her if he could choose where they went for dinner. She’d had no problem with that. His choices hadn’t steered them wrong yet, and he constantly found some new way to surprise her. She was excited to see where he’d chosen.
At six-thirty on the dot, there was a knock at her door, and she grabbed her purse, ensuring everything she needed was in it, including her house keys, and went down the hall. She opened the door to find Elion dressed in a white button-up, the top twobuttons undone, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, displaying the tattoo on his left arm with a pair of khaki pants.
“Sweetheart, why are you doing this to me?” he groaned, and it seemed she wasn’t the only one admiring what they saw.
Olani wore a sleeveless, plunged mauve blouse with a faux leather skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Her pumps were the same color as her blouse, and she’d paired the outfit with silver accessories—her hair in its natural curled state, with deep wine purple lipstick that popped against her skin.
Elion placed his hand on her waist and pulled her to him, leaning down, but she put a finger against his lips and shook her head.
“You’re going to get lipstick on you,” she stated. He wasn’t because it was smudge-proof, but she couldn’t help teasing him.
He grabbed her hand, kissing her palm before releasing it and placing his hand behind her neck. “I don’t give a damn.”
