Page 36 of Make Me Love You

“Are you sure? That’s what you want?” he asked.

“I will never kiss you, Eli.”

“Suit yourself.” He released her wrists, placed his palms flat on the ground bracketing her shoulders, and pushed himself up, careful not to crush her. Once standing, he offered her a hand. She refused, scrambling to her feet without his assistance.

He made for the door, swung it open, and paused. “You’re wrong, you know. A kiss like we had, it’s special. You know that’s true, and there’s no sense in pretending otherwise. You wouldn’t have teased me like that if you didn’t feel the same way. Eventually, you are going to kiss me.”

He just hoped the waiting for it didn’t kill him first.

***

Emma didn’t follow Eli inside. For a long moment she stood in the dim parking lot, debating. Her body was still vibrating with a restless energy from the encounter with Eli. Adrenaline, maybe, from her close escape with Goat. Annoyance from being accused of flirting with Luke, as though Eli had any say in the matter. Horniness. Might as well call a spade a spade.

Anyway, her fries were cold by now.

She couldn’t face cold fries and Eli’s smoldering smirk right now. It was too much. She would come back tomorrow, at a time when she could be sure Eli was on duty and not hanging around the bar, and fix things with Luke. What she needed right now was a cold shower and some mindless television to take her mind off Eli and his mouth.

His words continued to ring in her ears the entire drive home. Eventually, you are going to kiss me. She ground her teeth in frustration. No, she wasn’t going to kiss him. This was lust, that’s all. Lust couldn’t override everything that had gone down between them. The betrayal. They years of nothing. He hadn’t...he hadn’t even apologized. Not once.

Not even the night it all went down, when she had come home from work to find him sitting in her living room. He had told her, bluntly, that he had arrested her dad. There were no explanations. No excuses. No apologies. He had been entirely dispassionate about the whole thing. And she had screamed at him, terrible words, saying that she never wanted to see him again. Even then, he hadn’t apologized or explained. He had just nodded and left, like it was nothing to him.

Lust couldn’t change that. She would never forget. But if he kissed her, maybe she could overlook it for a minute.

She turned on the shower, setting the temperature to nearly scalding. She angled her body so the stream of water bore down on the tight knots in her shoulders. The bathroom filled with steam, enveloping her in a warm, damp mist. It felt good, but she still couldn’t fully relax. Her mind was still in that moment with Eli, their bodies pressed against each other, their mouths only a breath apart.

Damn him.

She scrubbed hard at her hair and body, and managed to remove most of the paint remnants. If only it were as easy to remove this inconvenient craving for something—someone—that was so wrong for her.

The water was cooling now, and she reluctantly turned it off. She toweled herself dry, squeezing the excess water from her hair, and followed up with a layer of lotion before slipping into her pajamas.

It was barely nine, but she was clean and cozy. It had been such a long day, years of pre-dawn mornings selling burritos ad conditioned her to go to bed early. Considering the long day she’d had, by all rights she should fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. She was exhausted. Even her eyelids ached.

Instead, she lay in her comfy bed, staring blankly into the darkness, her body aching in a way that had nothing to do with sore muscles and everything to do with rolling around in the grass with Eli Carter. Desire was still coursing through her bloodstream like an electric current. She needed relief. She needed release.

Fortunately, she didn’t need Eli for release. She could take care of that herself.

She settled more deeply into her soft pillows and tried to relax. She closed her eyes and conjured an image of a rumpled Mr. Darcy walking through a misty field at dawn from Pride and Prejudice, which was her favorite way to start a session of self-pleasure. She slipped her hand between the apex of her thighs.

Dark eyes burning into hers. The scrape of rough-hewn wood against her back. Her fingers digging into his beard to pull his face to hers—

Oh, God.

Her eyes popped open. Mr. Darcy didn’t have a beard, and she was fairly certain that was a barn wall she was imagining pressed against her back. It was Eli’s dark eyes, Eli’s bronzed skin, Eli’s mouth claiming hers. She was thinking of Eli. She was thinking of Eli and touching herself.

No. No, no, no.

She jumped out of bed like the sheets had caught fire. What was she doing? She couldn’t do that. It didn’t feel wrong, though. It felt...pathetic. She was exhausted and frustrated and horny as hell and this wasn’t going to solve any of those problems. She could give herself orgasm after orgasm and it wouldn’t touch the ocean-deep well of need she felt for Eli.

Only one thing could do that.

She grabbed her shoes.

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