Elliot reclines, propping his elbow against a couple pillows, and cradles his jaw in his hand. Despite the indolent pose, his eyes are sharp. “Is that so?”
I nod. “Anyway, all I have left to do is wait, but I doubt it’s going to be what I want to hear, so…”
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
That makes me turn to him, suddenly nervous. I pull on the sheet, needing a cover. “Like what?” He can’t possibly know about my uncomfortable encounter with Dennis. I don’t want to tell him and cause any hard feelings. Even though Dennis thinks Elliot and I are trying to ruin him, we aren’t. I’m certain that as long as we keep clear of him, he’ll realize he was being paranoid for no reason.
“You’ve been gone for a while.”
“Oh. I ran some errands and saw Traci.”
I didn’t, but hopefully he doesn’t know that. I took the afternoon off to go to the library to browse the self-help section and skim through some titles before buying an e-copy of a couple that looked most interesting. I feel self-conscious and presumptuous about reading books on finance and career management for new college graduates, because I’m not one. It may very well be that I’ll end up unemployable after my time with Elliot is finished because of the baggage I carry becoming public. Regardless, I don’t blame him for the unexpected complications. None of us could have known, and I just have to be extra careful with the money I get at the end of our contract.
Elliot frowns for a moment, as though he’s disappointed and vaguely unhappy about something. I get the feeling that the “something” is me, although I can’t imagine what I might’ve done to upset him now.
Suddenly he leans over, his tongue licking my lips. I hesitate for a second, then open my mouth for a deep, lush kiss. The heat between us I understand, and I’d rather focus on that than whatever caused him to frown.
He shifts, coming over. His weight settles on top of me like a blanket, and I pull him closer, my fingers tunneling into his warm, silky hair. He continues to stroke me with his tongue. The kiss is gentle but still completely erotic. I clutch him tighter as my blood heats, my skin prickling with rising lust.
I cup his face, holding his flushed cheeks in my palms. The rough stubble scrapes my skin, and I want to feel it against the sensitive spots along my breasts and below.
As abruptly as he started the kiss, he pulls back. His uneven breaths fan my lips, and need pulses through me, pooling between my legs. I stare up into his eyes, so darkly dilated. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Belle.”
The words are whispered so softly that I almost don’t hear them. I inhale sharply and close my eyes against what I see in his gaze. I don’t understand what it is, and I don’t want to understand it.
He tilts my head, his fingertips tender on my face. “Look at me.”
The command is gentle, but still has steel behind it. I open my eyes and stare up at him. Our breaths mingling, we peer into each other’s eyes as though searching for the secret to the universe. My heartbeat grows more erratic the longer we stay like this.
“Annabelle Underhill talked to me on Saturday,” I blurt out in a whisper, then cringe inwardly. I wasn’t planning to tell him until I could figure out what I needed to say to convince him I’m telling the truth.
“She threatened you.”
I gape at him.
“She can’t hurt you. I won’t allow it.”
When my brain kicks in again, I manage, “How…?”
His eyes flicker with something that feels suspiciously like exasperated resignation. “Paige overheard. She was in one of the bathroom stalls.”
“I see.” I break eye contact and look away. “Well, that was easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I’d known there was a witness to back me up, I wouldn’t have agonized over telling you so much.”
His head dips lower, the tip of his nose grazing mine. “I would’ve believed you without Paige.”
“You didn’t believe me about Mr. Grayson.”
“No. I was furious you didn’t tell me.” A beat. “There’s a difference.”
My eyebrows pull together.
“It’s one thing if you tell me the truth yourself. It’s quite another if I find out some other way.” He pauses, and I can see him deliberating, as though choosing the right words for what he needs to say is the most important thing he’s going to do this year. “Belle…it isn’t easy for me to trust people. In general. It’s doubly difficult when I know they’re keeping things from me.”
I trace the sharp lines of his sculpted cheekbones. “It isn’t easy for me to share things with people.”