There was something in the way he said it, standing there with his hands in his pockets, that made him seem vulnerable. It was just a flash, a chink in his armor, and then it was gone. But it made me think there was more to him than what I'd seen.
"So you'd rather spend the night with a stranger than with people you know?" I asked, my voice soft. I stood close to him, looking up at him in the soft porch light.
He shrugged. "Sometimes the people you know are the biggest strangers of all."
"I'm not sure I want to let you in, Elias," I said, my voice soft. I just couldn't stop thinking about that damn kiss.
"You can tell me to leave," he said. "If you want me to go, say the word and I'll walk away."
I could barely hear his words, couldn't focus on anything except his lips as he talked. I wanted to feel his breath on my skin.
"Leave." I called his bluff.
"No."
"You said you would."
"Only if you don't want me," he said. "But you do."
"You don't know a damn thing about what I want." The words left my mouth, hanging in the space between us. They rang false even to my ears.
He didn't back away. Instead, he reached up and traced his finger down my chest, toward my cleavage. "That's why your pupils are as big as fucking saucers. And why your breath is short," he said. "Because you don't want me."
"My breath is short because I just came running downstairs," I said. "After some jackass with a flashlight shined it through the window in the middle of the night."
"Were you sleeping?" he asked, his voice gravelly. He reached out and pulled me tight against him, but I didn't protest.
"No." I wasn't going to tell him about my night. I could already feel shame closing in on me, threatening to overwhelm me again. I didn't want Elias to see that I'd cut myself, and he would. "Go home, Elias."
"Do you mean it?"
Of course not. I screamed the words, inside my head. Don't leave.
"Yes," I said.
Before I could say anything else, his mouth came down hard on mine, and I let out an involuntary moan as his tongue found mine. When he kissed me, I could feel it through my whole body.
He pulled away from me, and I gasped. "Still don't want me?" he asked.
I didn't answer, and when he stepped back a few feet, I was disappointed. "You're leaving?"
"Fuck, no, I'm not. I'm fucking staying. Don't move. I'll be right back." He returned with a bag in his hand.
"Is that your suitcase? That's not presumptuous at all," I said.
"It's been sitting in the car. I never unpacked. Thought you might want a change of clothes, too, since you didn't bring much of anything. I figured you didn't make a run out to town to the store."
"I could use some clothes," I admitted.
"Can get you some in town tomorrow," he said. "Although, as fair warning, they may not be exactly what someone like you is used to." He set his bag down and walked around the room. "This place is nice. You really got the whole thing to yourself?"
"Yeah," I said, my eyes lingering on his ass again as he turned to look at some pictures on the fireplace mantel. "What do you mean, someone like me?"
"West Bend doesn't have a Rodeo Drive or shit like that, you know."
"Do I look like I need designer clothes?" I asked, my voice indignant. "I think when you first kissed me, I was wearing pajama pants, if you remember correctly."
But I could see him grinning, even with his head half-turned away. He put his hands up. "I'm just saying, being a big star and all that, you might not be wanting the country shit West Bend sells."
"Pretty sure I'll be fine."
"You going to show me the bedroom or what?" he asked, turning to face me as he leaned against the brick of the fireplace.
I laughed. "That's direct."
He shrugged. "You want me to beat around the bush?"
I laughed at the phrase, and he grinned wickedly. "Uh-"
"Don't worry, darlin'," he said, "I'll get to that part." Elias gave me a long hard look, and then, without speaking, stepped forward into me and put me over his shoulder like I was a rag doll. I shrieked when he put me over his shoulder.
"Elias," I protested, more surprised than anything else, "You can't carry me upstairs. Your leg. Put me down."
But he carried me upstairs like it was nothing. "You don't know anything about what I can or can't do," he said, spinning around as he faced one of the rooms. "There are firefighters that carry people heavier than you with gimp legs like mine. Is this the room you're staying in?"
"Yes. Are you going to put me down?"
"I'm debating whether or not I want to," he said, caressing my ass with his hand. "I might just keep you here a little while longer."
"Put me down, asshole," I said, but my voice was less insistent the more he touched me. When he set me down, one hand around my waist and the other on my ass, he made sure I slid down his body on the way and that I stayed firmly pushed up against him when my feet touched the ground. I wasn't exactly about to protest, especially when I felt his hardness against me. "Carrying me upstairs got you all hot?"