When he leaves, the silence feels unnatural.
Something has shifted in the way I see Eli over the past week. Ever since he gave me my freedom back—and since seeing how determined he is to keep me safe—I can’t help but see the good in him.
I think it’s his fear of losing me that draws me to him most.The pure need he has to stay close.
My heart rate finally slows as I sit with my thoughts.
Graham appears from nowhere and headbutts my leg. I scratch behind his ear before he meanders off again.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and then Eli reappears.
My heart kicks back up at the sight of him—fresh from the shower, smelling faintly of his cinnamon bodywash, with damp hair sticking to his face and droplets of water beading along his skin.
God, he’s beautiful.
His face lights up the moment he sees me.
It feels like we’re at a tipping point. One where I have to decide which direction to fall. Do I step back? Escape? Or do I dive headfirst into a man who’s shown me, again and again, that he’d do anything for me—anything to keep me safe.
The threat of Liam has passed. And Gia? Well, she hasn’t made any moves. Maybe she won’t.
If I wanted to leave… now would be the time.
Eli grabs a pizza from the fridge and slides it into the oven. It’s late, so I can’t blame him for not wanting to cook.
Thirty minutes later, we’ve eaten and are helping each other with the few dishes that need cleaning—I’m washing, he’s drying.
I sneak a glance at him, and the plate in my hand slips. He’s instantly there, wrapping his hands around mine to keep it from falling.
“Careful,” he murmurs, voice gravelly.
His fingers linger on my skin for a beat longer than necessary before he lets go.
I lick my lips.
His eyes track the movement, heat sparking to life.
I’ve made my decision.
Eli
Emily’s breath hitches as I reach over her head to place the plate in the cupboard. I should step back. I don’t.
Instead, I let the tension build. My cock is rock hard, and I can see the moment she feels it. Her pupils dilate, her lips parting just slightly.
I wait to see what she’ll do. She doesn’t move. Disappointment floods me.
I take a step back. But then her fingers grip the fabric of my t-shirt, halting me.
“What do you want, Angel?” I ask, desperately trying to maintain control. I want her to want me. To take what she wants.
Her fingers tighten on my top. Then she’s dragging me closer. My arms case either side of her, trapping her against the counter. But I don’t do anything else. Don’t dare break the moment.
Finally—finally—after what feels like a lifetime, she reaches up to cup the back of my neck, pulling my face down to hers. Our mouths are close enough that I can feel her breath against my lips.
I groan.
She presses her lips to mine.