mature content ahead: you be 18+ to view this chapter.

you're alright?" Reva crossed her arms, her heavy lashes weighing down her lids. She used my bedroom doorframe to hold her drunken self upright while Penelope gave us a moment alone. From the way her body sagged, it looked like she could fall asleep standing.

"I'm fine." I towel dried my freshly washed hair. "I don't know what came over me."

"He insulted you and admitted to calling the cops on the guys. I would have punched him, too."

I laughed in defeat. "I guess I'm still in shock."

"I'm sure he will leave you alone now. Good thing Elijah was with you."

My throat bobbed. "Oh, about Elij—" I began, ready to explain why we were in the parking lot in the first place and that he was coming to stay the night. But she didn't seem to hear me because she yawned, patted the wall, and told me she was headed to bed because the room was spinning.

Well, then. I stared at my reflection in my mirror. Reva would be in the dark for another night, which meant I had to sneak Elijah into the apartment after she fell asleep.

He texted me when I got home that he would be here at quarter till eleven, which gave me enough time to shower and straighten up my room. I tossed my dirty clothes in the hamper, pulled my sheets taught like they hadn't been slept in, and fluffed my pillows. I didn't have time to clean off my desk, engulfed with pencils and paint. The end of the semester always sent me into a frenzy, because I usually kept my art area clean.

My phone glowed with a text on my dresser.

Oh my God, he was here.

I peaked into the hallway and looked left and right like I was about to cross the road. Reva's door was shut, and no light leaked from her room or sound. She and Pen were likely fast asleep, sedated by the liquor.

As if it made me invisible, I held my breath and tiptoed to the front door where he stood.

The door creaked on its hinges, and I gritted my teeth as he came into sight. Elijah slung his backpack over his shoulder, his braids hidden beneath his durag. I had to stop laughing at the pillow tucked beneath his arm.

"You brought your pillow?" My voice was barely audible.

"Hell, yeah. I did not pay ninety dollars not to sleep with this pillow."

I shook my head, amused, and stepped aside for him to come in. He kicked off his shoes, and I quickly snatched them back, telling him Reva didn't know he was here. If she saw his shoes tomorrow morning, it would be a dead giveaway a guy was in my room, and I wanted to be the one to tell her.

He followed me to my bedroom, and my heart thrummed as he stepped inside and scanned the space. I noted his surveying, trying to picture what my room looked like from his point of view. Frames filled with art and pictures of my friends and family covered most of my walls.

My bedding was a deep forest green adorned with yellow throw pillows, which were usually on the floor. My curtains, which Reva and I haphazardly hung last autumn with the heel of my shoe, rippled from my cracked window.

It was unapologetically me.

I remained by my door and watched his every move. He set his backpack on my desk chair and rummaged through it, materializing the same shirt I wore when I slept over at his place. He strode toward me and stopped close enough for our arms to touch.

"I brought this for you. I didn't know if you'd want to wear it to bed again." He took my hand and inspected it, and I hid my smile. His thumb swiped over the ridge of my knuckles ever so gently, making my skin tingle. "You threw a good punch tonight."

"I can't believe I did that."

"You need to ice your hand."

"I did earlier."

"You should do it again before bed."

Obliging his command, I walked to the kitchen and gripped the counter, taking a moment to breathe until my lungs stretched full. He was in my bedroom, and he brought me his t-shirt. I chewed on my cheek, trying to slow my palpating heart, and then grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and returned to my room.

Elijah was flipping through my sketchbook when I returned. His head whirled in my direction, and he held the book up, his lips ornate with a sly smile. "You drew me, Van Gogh?"

Oh, fuck. He was not supposed to see that.

My stomach bottomed out as I looked between his face etched across the page and his actual face. There would be no convincing that it was not him.

"You snoop." I dashed for the book and tried taking it from his hand, but he held it high in the air and stepped toward me. He looked down, my lips directly underneath his. If I pushed onto my tip-toes, our mouths would meet.

"I didn't realize I was your muse," he teased. "And you drew it last month?" He pointed to where I dated and signed the page. "You've been thinking about me for a while now."

My cheeks burned. "Occasionally," I corrected.

By occasionally, I meant when I laid in bed and thought of him as I slipped my hand under the covers and into my pajama shorts at night. When I woke and checked my messages to see if he had texted, or when all I wanted to do was turn around and smile at him in class. When I flipped through the TV channels trying to find his game.

Occasionally. I wanted to laugh.

I jumped for the book again, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his body. He turned to set my drawings on my desk, and his free hand grazed my chin, tilting it up. My stomach bottomed out in response, and I tried to hide the heavy rising of my chest.

"Are you going to tell me what you think about when you think of me?"

His thumb stroked my cheek. "That will take a while."

"We have all night," I said.

His hand continued its taunting strokes. He paused and watched him collect his thoughts. "How beautiful, incredibly stubborn, and talented you are. How your eyes light up when you paint, how you hold your breath with every brushstroke," he said, and my heart swelled. "How your hips sway when you walk. How you give me a run for my money." I laughed at that. "How you get along with my friends. How you don't just see me as some star athlete."

I brought my hand to his cheek, but his eyes seemed dim. His tone lowered as he continued, "I also think about your mouth and the tiny birthmark right above your collar bone that I always want to kiss. I think about you in my clothes—"

"Like that one?" I motioned to where his tee-shirt laid. He nodded.

I wanted him to put it on me. So, I took his hand and guided him to sit on the edge of my bed. He leaned back on his elbows as I stood between his legs, trying not to stare at the hard-on growing beneath his grey sweatpants.

I couldn't believe I made him feel that way. That he was turned on because of me.

"Will you put your shirt on me?" My fingers trailed along the hem of my clothes. I shoved the unhealthy thoughts of how my naked body looked away and focused on the moment. Elijah didn't break eye contact as I lifted my pajama shirt and tossed it aside, revealing my black bra.

He sat up eagerly. His hands grazed my hips and back until he found the clasp of my bra. "Can I?" He tugged on the strap, and I nodded.

He studied my face and unlatched the clasp. My breasts emerged from the fabric, and a weight lifted off my shoulders as it tumbled to the floor. Elijah released a long breath before his gaze lowered, preparing himself.

I felt dizzy, so I draped my arms over his shoulders to stabilize myself.

He got the hint and tightened his grip on my ribs. His body inched forward, and he kissed my sternum softly. Then he dragged his lips over the swell of my breasts. Hell. All I wanted was for him to kiss me. I arched my back, hoping he would get the hint, but he continued torturing me with his half kisses.

"Elijah," I murmured.

"Tell me what you want, Sadie."

I cupped his face, my breath hastening. "Kiss me."

He took no time pulling me onto his lap, my legs straddling his torso, and I settled directly over his hardness which I did not anticipate finding. The softest groan escaped his mouth from the friction, and I almost lost myself too as his lips latched onto my nipple, sucking gently.

My hips bucked forward to the pleasure, and I threw my head back. His hand caught a fist full of my hair, and he tried pulling me closer despite already being entirely against him. He gave enough attention to one breast before switching to the other, gently pulling with his teeth.

I felt the pleasure building in my body, my nipples sore with bliss as he sucked and nipped with his teeth. It had been a long time since I felt this good, this free. It took every ounce of self-control to stay quiet.

"Christ, Sadie," he said against my bare skin. "I don't think I can get enough of you."

His compliment made me giggle, but the second I felt the warmth from his mouth again, I released a breathy moan.

He felt deliciously good, but I wanted to kiss him. So, I hauled his head away from my chest and lips. My thin floral pajama shorts protected me from nothing as he pulled my hips forward, compelling me to grind against his firmness.

I wanted to touch him, and I needed to feel him under my palm.

I yanked his shirt off, only disconnecting our mouths to pull the fabric over his head. My fingers immediately trailed along his soft, taught skin. I'd seen him with his shirt off. I had slept against that chest but never had the chance to feel or take it in.

I felt every ridge of muscle until I reached his waistband and hooked my fingers underneath.

Without warning, he flipped me onto my back. "Do you want this?" he asked, eagerly searching my face for the answer.

My stomach flipped. "Yes, I want this."

"Remember what I told you on my roof?"

My brows drew together, and I shook my head. I didn't know what he was referring to.

"That once I kissed you, you were stuck with me," he said, leaning toward my ear. "Same thing applies to when I fuck you, which means you will be stuck with me. Do you want that, Sadie?"

Oh, my God. I wriggled under his weight, unable to keep my feelings at bay. I wanted him: mind and body. And I wanted to be his, wear his number on my back, and chant his name in a crowded stadium. To sit on his lap at parties and sleepovers without sneaking around. I wanted to kiss him in public and hold his hand.

"Yes."

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"To be with you."

"And?" he grinned.

I bit my lip to stifle a smile because I knew what he was getting at, and what he wanted me to say.

"That's all?" he pressed. His fingers swept up my thigh, barely touching with enough pressure over my shorts. My eyes fluttered shut, despite trying to keep them open. He was being so delicate with me, and it was painful.

"I want you to fuck me, Elijah."

He groaned and kissed the birthmark on my clavicle. I laid my palm over his length, watching his eyes close in pleasure. It gave me a moment to smile. He was so beautiful. His long eyelashes, full lips, the slight scruff on his chin... He exhaled in pleasure as I drove my hand up and down his pants.

I turned to his arm beside my face and kissed his bicep. His eyes opened, his lips parted in a slight smile, and then he kissed me. It was slow, and he took his time, ensuring we soaked in every touch.

He grunted into my mouth and gripped my wrist so I couldn't move. "I don't want you to make me come yet." He pinned my wrist above my head and then kissed down the length of my torso before he reached my shorts.

He stared at me from between my legs, and I lifted my hips, a silent confirmation he could take my pants off. He obeyed, leaving me in my black panties. I pressed my thighs together and covered my stomach with my arms, feeling exposed.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, removing my hands from my stomach and kissing my curves. He worked his way down my body until his hot breath warmed my panties, and he pressed his lips against the fabric.

I gasped, heat radiating down my legs, and he grinned. "I always wondered what color panties you wear."

All I could do was laugh as he touched me through the soft cotton fabric. He made slow, lilting circles with his thumb. My abdominal muscles tightened, and I arched my back as the familiar radiant feeling budded between my legs. Holy hell, this was nothing like when I did it myself.

"Elijah," I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut. "Oh, God."

"You like that, baby?"

I made a noise which was my version of a yes, and then the budding feeling stopped. My head darted up to find him pulling my panties to the side. He didn't hesitate before pressing his mouth firmly against my bundle of nerves, licking me tantalizingly.

I bit the back of my hand to avoid moaning from the jolts of pleasure emanating inside my torso. He splayed his hand over my stomach, holding me down so my hips could not move. I fought his strength, but he only pressed down harder.

I touched his hand, and he eased up, and we made eye contact as he interlocked our fingers. For some reason, the small gesture caused a lump to form in my throat, and I tried to swallow the emotions away, but it didn't work.

I turned my head to the side, trying to hide the fickle reaction. The growing heat between my legs, his affection, his touch, and his presence. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. I liked Eli, and I did not want to fuck this up with my unstable past or emotions.

"Sadie?" he stopped. "You okay? You checked out."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay." I adjusted my body.

He paused, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his stare. The bed shifted, and he inched toward me, laying on his side as I lay on my back. I felt him staring at me while I faced the ceiling.

"Baby," he whispered, cupping my face. "Did I do something? Did you not like it?"

I laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. I covered my face with my hands. "No, you did nothing wrong. I loved everything. It's just me." Because I'm a mess.

"Talk to me." He tried moving my hands from my face. "

"This is so embarrassing," I groaned, but he only pulled me closer. "Everything is so...good."

He waited for me to continue, but I didn't because that was it. That was the truth. Everything was wonderful.

"Is that a bad thing?" His laughter was faint.

"No, it's overwhelming."

"The sex? Our relationship?" he prodded for a specific answer.

"My feelings for you." I finally met his stare.

His expression softened to understanding, but I sensed the hint of pity behind his features. "I don't know what happened in your last relationship, but I want you to know that I'm not him. You can let your feelings in for me, and it's okay to have them." He elbowed my arm teasingly and smiled. I finally laughed.

"I'm sorry for killing the mood."

He kissed the side of my head. "It won't be hard to get back," he said, sweeping a finger over my stomach and between my legs where he just was. "Only if you want to, though."

Oh, I wanted to. I grabbed the back of his head, reconnecting our mouths. His kisses weren't feverish like before, they were tender and unhurried. Let him in. Let him in, my conscious said.

I tried touching him through his pants, but he stopped me for the second time. "Let me touch you," he said, and his fingers continued the job his tongue had performed earlier. "I want to focus on you."

When he moved closer to my opening, I whimpered into his mouth. "I don't want your fingers." I stopped him. "I want you."

He made the sexiest sound and brought both hands up to my breasts. We were back to frantic kissing, and I helped him tug his pants off and his underwear. He was naked in my bed, and I hadn't looked down to see what I was about to work with, even though I felt it earlier. On second thought, I probably should have let him finger me.

"You have to be quiet, Sadie," he said, hooking his thumbs in my panties and pulling until we undressed. "Will you be quiet for me?"

"Yes."

He reached for his backpack just as I reached for my dresser to get a condom, and then we both laughed. I let him grab his own and tugged my bedsheets down so we could climb underneath for coverage.

Taking the foil packet from his hand, I tore it open and reached for him. He was hard, incredibly hard, and I grinned.

"See what you do to me?" he placed feathery kisses along my neck as I rolled the condom over his length, pumping my hand a couple of times since he hadn't let me give him attention earlier.

Then he reached between us, his body hovering over top of mine, and he held himself at my entrance. His gaze beheld mine as I clutched his upper back, listening to the shaky breath he let out as he pushed inside.

A loud gasp lurched out of me, and his hand shot up to cover my mouth. He made a knowing look. "Quiet," he said, then replaced his hand with his lips. I wrapped my legs around the back of his thighs, and we moved together.

I forgot what it felt like to be this intimate. All of those images my mind conjured late at night were not nearly as good as what I was experiencing with Elijah. I tucked my chin into the bend of his shoulder, and he laced his fingers in my hair, cradling my head and body against his.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You feel so good."

His words caused me to dig my nails hard into his biceps. He kept a steady motion, rocking his hips hard with mine. He loosened his grip on my body, sat back, and held the backs of my thigh, pushing my knees forward. His right hand stayed secured while his other hand reached between my legs and began stroking me again.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

The pressure in my body swelled stronger. His grinding hips and melodic fingers had me arching my back. I fisted the sheets, fighting the urge to close my eyes or watch him make love to me. Yet, his pounding motion forced my eyelids shut.

"Oh, Elijah," I cried out quietly and covered my mouth.

He continued touching me until waves of pulsing pleasure spread throughout my body, as I unraveled beneath him. He continued thrusting until my legs stopped shaking and my body relaxed. My eyes opened, only to find him watching me finish, his mouth was slightly ajar, and his eyes squinted as if he was in agony.

But then he said, "You feel so good." His bicep muscles rippled and moved his hands from between my legs to my breasts. He thrust three more times, shuttering until he finished.

His body fell limp over mine, our chests rising and falling together. It took a moment for me to get my bearings straight, and when I could move again, I laid my head on his chest and began laughing. My head bounced as he laughed too.

"You are so sexy," he cooed, pulling my sweaty leg onto his body. His fingers danced along my thigh, over the curve of my hips.