Page 45 of Stolen Voices
“So…” Eli repeats, rocking back on his heels—a habit he does when he doesn’t know what to say.
I take solace knowing I’m not alone in this awkwardness.
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to break the connection, until my stomach growls.
My face is about fifty shades of red as I mumble, “Sorry.”
Eli chuckles and places a hand on his stomach. His very hard and defined stomach. A stomach I would very much like to lick. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
My eyes jump to his, surprised at his suggestion. “Um. Just the two of us?” I inwardly cringe at my dumb question.
Of course. He’s asking you to dinner, dummy.
Eli smirks as he looks around the room. “Do you see anyone else here?”
Even though I know there is no one in the room with us, I mimic him and glance around. “No.”
“Then I guess it’s just us. Grab your stuff.” Eli bends over, giving me the view of a lifetime, and grabs his jacket.
His butt is absolute perfection. Round. Muscular. Biteable. Visions of me leaving my teeth mark on that ass have me biting my lip to stifle my moan.
A warm palm on my lower back sends a bolt of electricity through my body and brings me out of my dirty daydreams.
What were we talking about?Oh, yes. Dinner.
“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I’ll be fin—.”
“Stop.” Eli cuts off my rambling, and my pulse beats between my thighs at the rumble of his demanding tone. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
My brain short-circuits while my eyes follow his tongue as it swipes across his lip, the moisture shining in the light. If I pressed my lips against his right now, would they feel as soft as they look?
His mouth twists up in a devilish smile, and my cheeks heat at being caught staring like a horny, lusting hoe. “Callie?”
“What?” My eyes dart to his mirth-filled gaze.
“Dinner?”
Trying to find a single cool bone in my body, I take a deep breath and answer, “Yes. I’d like that very much.”
“Then let’s go.” He gives me a little nudge, and I jump into action.
I gather my journal and my purse before meeting Eli at the door. I can’t believe I’m about to have dinner with him. Just the two of us. My heart races, and my palms sweat.
When we reach the front door of the studio, Eli stops. “Do you mind waiting here? I want to tell Mike I’m taking you to dinner and he can follow.”
I nod like a puppet because my words have left the building.
This is real. I’m going out with Eli. For dinner.
It’s not a date, my brain sings like the realistic bitch she is. But the whisper in my heart overrides all logic and says it’s also not “not a date”.
This could be an opportunity for us to really get to know each other. Then, I’ll know. Maybe he’s a giant jerk. My crush will die, and I can move on. It would make my life so much easier.
Or he’s exactly what I imagine him to be—everything.
I’m so lost in my head, over-analyzing, that I don’t notice Eli until he’s at the door, holding it open for me. “Ready?”
My head bobs again because, apparently, I don’t know how to speak anymore.
