hot against my damp lips. The rain continued to fall, trail the length of his braids, stick to his lashes, then bead off onto my face, which he hovered over.

His mouth grazed mine, and the warmth of his tongue tickled my bottom lip. The slick feeling caused me to let out the tiniest gasp, but it was still loud enough for him to hear over the rain.

Thunder rumbled again, and the sky lit up with streaks of light this time, tearing us from the moment. "As much as I want to make out with my girlfriend, we need to go inside before we get struck by lightning."

I blushed at the word girlfriend as my lighting swelled inside of me. He stood up, reaching a hand out to guide me back inside his room. We were both drenched, and I watched a tiny water pile pool beneath my feet on the hardwood. I shivered.

"Leave your window open. I want to hear the storm," I said.

Despite my shaking body, my insides boiled. I needed these cold clothes off. So, I turned my back and peeled my saturated shirt off, followed by my jeans, and they fell to the floor with a wet thud.

I reached for the clasp of my bra. After two strides, he was standing behind me, taking over. "You're shivering." He kissed my shoulder. His cool tee-shirt pressed against my bare skin alongside his hardness against my lower back.

He tossed my bra with my other clothing, and my breast felt heavy without it. But he quickly cupped them with his hands. "I know how we can warm up."

"How?" I tipped my head to the side, barely able to reply before his lips met my wet skin.

He strode to the bathroom and turned on the light switch and the faucet. Oh. We were going to shower together. It seemed like my imagination was coming to life. The rain and the sound of the running shower filled the space, and the hair on my arms rose.

From the bathroom, he undressed. I marched over with the intent of helping, but the second I tried taking his shirt off, he picked me up and set me on the sink. Somehow, I felt dizzier than the first time, and I could barely slow my fleeting thoughts.

"Mine," he breathed, kissing my breasts.

My head fell back, and I cupped his shoulders, careful not to pull on his braids.

"Mine," he said again, kissing my navel. He was about to kiss my thighs, but I quickly brought his head level with mine.

Gripping his jaw with my thumb and pointer finger, I mimicked him. "Mine."

A mischievous, sensual grin took over his face from my assertion. He licked his lips before delving for mine, neither of us having the patience to hold back. The kiss was a mixture of the tongue, heat, and dampness. He stood between my legs, pulling my lower back forward. I practically hung off the porcelain, but his body kept me in place.

He hooked his fingers in my panties, and I got the hint and lifted my hips. Then, I was naked, he was naked, and carrying me into the steaming shower. I did not expect the day to end with us in the shower, especially after I was seconds away from ruining everything between us earlier.

But there was something different in the way he made love to me.

Like before, it was earnest and loving, but now there was no uncertainty. I hadn't noticed how hesitant he was the first time, not until he had me pinned against the tile wall, holding my face in his hands as our hips moved rhythmically.

And oh, god, the way he looked at me.

Those brown eyes stayed fixated on my face. His mouth was slightly ajar as he panted and leaned in for a hungry kiss. He looked at me like I was entirely his. If I had known this would be the reaction to being this beautiful man's girlfriend, I would have agreed long ago.

Except, Elijah was worth the wait and always would be.

After we dried off, he handed me an honorary sleep-over shirt and closed his window. The rain was out of control, and the droplets sounded like bullets hitting the rooftop. I could not keep up with the changing weather. Next month marked the beginning of hurricane season, so the inconsistency between sunny and hot or rainy and cool days did not come as a surprise.

"The news castors are calling for a big storm on Friday. Don't you guys have a game?"

"Yeah, against West Carlson. They won't cancel unless it's lightning during our game, though."

While he brushed his teeth, I strolled around his room. "The girls and I are coming," I said as lightning flashed, directing my eyes to his desk with his sketchbook. I traced the length of the leather cover and glanced between Elijah and the book.

"My project for the studio is due Friday morning," I explained, "so I'll swing by the studio in the morning to finish up and then meet the girls at the field for a tailgate." When he wasn't looking, I flipped to look at his new illustrations, dated from last week and smiled.

"You're going to tailgate?" he asked from the doorway.

"Tasha invited us a while ago. I figured we'd go."

He had many different designs for houses, business buildings, skyscrapers, and room arrangements. His ability to draw such a variety of architecture was impressive, not to mention the uniqueness of each layout. Some buildings were modern, and others were aged, but each sketch had a particular feel that screamed Elijah.

When I opened to the next page, my heart thrummed against my chest, stopped, and restarted. It was not a building, and I was staring at myself. My face, nose, lips, cheek. It was me on the page, and I traced the pencil indentations.

The date etched into the bottom of the page matched when he was in New York.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he leaned against the bathroom doorway, and my head shot up. Elijah's arms were taught across his chest, and a dimple adorned his cheek. I hadn't known he was watching me. Was this how he felt after finding my drawing?

"Elijah, I didn't know you could draw people. Do you know how much skill this takes?" He had more artistic bones in his body than I realized.

"You're the snoop this time." He ignored my compliment.

"Now we're even." I walked closer and placed the sketchbook in his hand. Needing to see him in action, I said, "Draw me again."

His eyes grew wide. "Right now?"

"Yes, it can be practice."

He closed the space between us. The only thing that kept me from being flesh against him was the fabric of my borrowed tee-shirt. "In that case." His fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt. The rough callouses of his hands dragged over my tender skin. "I need practice drawing the human body."

Hushed laughter bubbled out of me as my shirt fell to the floor. "Are you going to draw me like one of your french girls?"

"Girls is not plural. You're my girl."

I knew my face turned crimson because he brushed his knuckles over the apple of my cheek. Our amusement faded when he looked me up and down and lowered his mouth onto mine.

It was one thing for us to be naked under sheets together, but to lay in front of him while he drew every curve was nerve-wracking, and I never felt more exposed. I situated myself on the mattress, and he locked his door and pulled over his desk chair to sit.

My heart pounded violently against my ribs, hard enough that it ached. I draped my arm over my stomach, but Eli reached and moved it. "Relax. You look perfect."

"I can hardly believe that." Curt laughter escaped me.

It was difficult not to comment on my appearance when all I could hear was my insecurities rattling in my head like I was at an auction. But Elijah's gaze was tenderhearted, nothing like how I scrutinize myself in the mirror.

If he looked at me the way I looked at myself, I would be heartbroken.

Elijah stared deadpan. No hint of joy on his face. "Sadie, you are beautiful, and I don't like to hear you talk about yourself like that. But we don't have to do this if you aren't comfortable."

I recalled what Lucy said about confidence and exhaled, letting my body sag into the mattress. I wanted to do this. Hell, I was slightly turned on. So, I fed the sensual feeling instead of my apprehension.

"I want to do this," I reassured.

He grinned, and the scratching of pencil on top of the thrumming rain filled the room.

In the hour I spent unmoving, he turned on music and dimmed his lights. The drawing took longer than expected because Elijah would purposely make me laugh and scold me for moving. Though, watching him work was adorable.

His brows would furrow and rest on repeat. When he was hyper-focused, his tongue crept out of his mouth and sat firmly in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes squinted. He never got upset when he messed up. It reminded me of when he was painting the studio wall.

Watching him play baseball was like watching someone ride a bike. He just knew how to do it. The motions were there. Hit. Swing. Repeat. Though, watching him draw was something entirely different. I saw the wheels churning in his head and the excited glimmer in his eyes. I knew exactly how he felt watching the ideas come alive on the page.

"How is the drawing coming along, Mr. Artist?"

"I've just been staring at your boobs."

I cackled. "Well, get on with it because I'm cramping."

"Almost done." He dragged out the vowels, then leaped off the chair into bed with me. Before I could snatch the drawing from his hands, he nestled me into the crook of his arm and covered us with a blanket.

"Don't laugh if it's bad."

"I doubt it's bad." I took the drawing from his hand and held my breath as I stared at myself. I was beyond impressed by his skills. "Eli," I breathed as my eyes trailed the length of my body, which looked much better than I expected. Was this how he saw me?

"See, I told you that you were beautiful."

"You're incredible," I told him, as he always told me when he saw my paintings.

I could not make out the emotion that crossed his face, but I gave him a moment to think without asking what was wrong.

He set the sketch down. "I went to New York because I was trying to figure out what I am doing with my future."

"What about it?"

"I knew after the first day we talked on the roof I wanted to change my major from sports management to architecture. I also knew it was going to be a process. I was close to doing it without telling my parents, but I knew they would be upset."

"You are going to change majors?"

"I was going to, but they talked me into finishing this degree since I only have a year left. Then after I graduate, I'll start my architectural degree."

"What about baseball?"

"That's another problem. The draft is this summer, and I've been discussing my options with my coach and parents. One would be not to play for the MLB despite working towards that my entire life, or I can try and take architecture classes while playing."

His eyes were glued to the ceiling.

"How do you feel about your choices?" I asked.

"I have no idea. I'm torn."

A gloom overcame me. I was preoccupied with my feelings and had not stopped to consider maybe Elijah's disappearance to New York was not about me. He had his life to figure out, and I had just entered it.

An apology for freaking out earlier beckoned to come out. I bit my tongue and reminded myself this still was not about me. Instead, I asked, "Are you thinking about yourself and your happiness, or are you also considering what your coach, parents, and friends want?"

He laughed, but there was no humor. "I always consider what other people think of me and my choices."

"You and me both." A weary smile tugged at my lip.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I can't decide for you." I paused. "But I can help you work through your decisions."

He slid out from beside me and propped himself against the wall. I pulled my tee-shirt back on and sat adjacent to him, waiting for him to continue. It was a quarter till eleven, and the storm was not letting up.

"I feel like if I stop playing baseball now, I wasted years of my life."

"It's not a waste." Seeing him torn broke my heart. "Nothing is a waste. Every failed relationship, every new hobby, career, friendship, or change can teach you something about yourself you didn't know before. It may hurt," I motioned to myself, insinuating Ben, "or maybe it's happy. But it's okay to grow out of things. It doesn't mean you wasted your time. Whether it is a good memory or a lesson, you still got something out of it.

"And if you're ready for the next thing, it is okay to let go of baseball, but if you can't see yourself letting it go, you'll find a way to fit it into your new plans." Everything I told Elijah was a pill I needed to swallow.

He crawled toward me with a melancholy smile.

"What are you doing?" I laughed and fell onto my back, my hair splaying over the quilt as he held himself over my body. "Elijah."

"Do you need something, Eli?" I asked.

"Nope, I'm just happy." He dipped down, closing the space between us.

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I started my internship at the hospital this past weekend, I love it (even though I'm absolutely whooped after three 12 hr shifts haha)

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annasteffeyy

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