Page 92 of Elijah
Everything flooded back in amazing technicolour – the way his hands had explored my body, the moments that he’d brought me to orgasm, and the years that he’d protected and loved me.
As Elijah’s hips rocked, I felt his erection through the thin lace of my knickers where my skirt had bunched around my thighs. It was long and hard and just as spectacular as I remembered, and I moaned in appreciation.
His large hand gripped my arse and pushed me closer as we continued to kiss. He tasted of beer and mint and I loved how his muscular, tattooed arms gripped me tightly, trapping me against him. Every nerve in my body, every inch of my skin was alive and sensitive; high on anticipation.
My hands went to Elijah’s head and my fingers tried to grasp his hair.
“You have to grow this,” I groaned against his lips. “I need to run my fingers through it.”
“Anything for you.”
I reached between us and felt his hardness beneath his jeans, pleased that nothing there appeared to have changed.
“Not sure I can make that much longer though,” Elijah muttered, before his mouth fused to mine once more.
As his hands moved up my ribcage, I clung on tighter, never wanting to let go, ever again.
“Stay with me tonight?” Elijah asked, moving us further into the darkness that the fern provided.
I pulled back from him, looking intently into his eyes as I cupped his face with my shaking palm.
“At your house?”
“Mia isn’t there, she’s looking after her mum.”
My heart halted. Thudding to an emergency stop.
“You’re still with her? You’re still living together?”
Elijah leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “Technically.”
Pure, unadulterated anger burst forth at his words.
“What, like technically you were with me, when you slept with Lauren?”
