Chapter 43: : Chapter 43

The moment we step into his apartment, and I see my things, he’s smart enough to head straight into the kitchen, pour a glass of champagne, and quickly bring it out to me.

“I told them to let you unpack,” he says, offering me the glass.

I take the glass and glare at him as I sip it, careful not to drink it all in one go because somehow I end up in situations that I don’t particularly care for when I drink too much.

“I would ask if you already know where my room is, but we both know you do. And since you think the bed is so comfy already, we shouldn’t run into any issues. I’ve cleared out a few drawers, and one side of the closet is yours,” he tells me as he heads toward his bedroom. “I’m going for a shower; feel free to join me.”

Join him? I snort at the arrogance after we were literally fighting only an hour ago. I sober at the thought. Why am I even bickering with him? I can’t even grasp onto what’s real anymore. If Eli is into something dangerous, I’m certain it’s mental fuckery. And he’s good at it.

I stare at the stack of boxes, one of them containing his expensive watches. I smirk at that. But in total, there are only six boxes. It’s a depressing thought to know I own so little. I could literally buy a house or maybe even a private island, yet I’m always ready to pack and move at the drop of a hat to the next place. For the next thrill and hit. But for how long?

I take a sip of the champagne, still not enjoying its taste.

Where would I move to after this? After New York?

A very dark notion of loneliness sinks in, and I try to clear my throat as if that’s what’s lodging the heavy weight in my heart.

Loneliness. What an interesting concept. I’ve worn it as a badge of honor up until this point. If I make it out alive after this situation with Eli, how will I move on?

I close my eyes, realizing my error. I’ve already let this asshole get under my skin. But I’m not foolish enough to let myself cling to a notion of hope. Hope for what? A happy family? Of killing joyfully together? Of family dinners with his family and having a place to call home? I’d given up on all of those things the moment my father died, and I took my first shot blowing out someone’s brains. I don’t deserve any of that. I made sure of it.

But never in my life did I think I’d want those things.

Never have I allowed myself to selfishly live amidst the real world instead of remaining a phantom on a lonely path.

I mean, I thought I’d been living. But I hadn’t even been drunk until the other day. I don’t have friends with whom to celebrate achievements. Well, maybe Sage, but I still keep her at arm’s length, so it’s easy for me to get up and leave at any given moment. Is that really living?

I can’t remember the last time my brain just shut off, and I enjoyed myself. It was definitely before him. I want to argue that I still hate the man, but deep down, I know the truth. The question is whether I’m willing to die for it.

And yet, I finish the glass of champagne and start to undress, leaving only my heels on as I head toward the shower.

The water is already running, and when I step into the bedroom, I’m not surprised to see the bathroom door open, the invitation obvious.

Presumptuous asshole.

I walk in, slipping out of my heels as he opens the shower door expectantly. He flashes that arrogant smirk that I want to slap off his face as much as I want to kiss it. His cock is hard, and his callused hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me under the water with him.

I’m still on my period, but Eli doesn’t care about that. In fact, he fucking loves it.

I slide my fingers over his chest, admiring his muscles. Eli’s body is exquisite, like a sculpture made by a master artist. The ridges that run down his stomach are perfectly defined all the way to his very hard cock. I smirk at the scar from the knife wound I gave him when we first met and my initials carved into his leg that are scabbed over.

I don’t know why, but it fills me with a small amount of smugness. That no matter how this ends—most certainly up in flames—there will always be a small part of me etched into him.

Shouldn’t I be at least satisfied by that?

“Jewel?” he says my name, tilting my chin up to study my face. Those beautiful, ethereal eyes that are so breathtaking look into me like he can see all of me. But there are parts of me he doesn’t see at all. Parts I’ve hidden from even myself up until now. And I’d rather keep it that way.

“This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two adults enjoying each other’s bodies in a temporary truce,” I tell him.

His hands run down my collarbone, breasts, and stomach until they land possessively on my hips.

“If you say so,” he replies with a grin before pulling me close. He fists my hair possessively, and before I can say another word, his mouth finds mine. He tastes like a mixture of water and greedy lust.

I hate to admit that I like the way he kisses me—with such ferocity that it’s like he can’t get enough of me. I kiss him more softly as if I want to worship the moment. Because I do. Having a powerful man want me like he does is intoxicating, to say the least. But I can tell I’m savoring it for other reasons. It isn’t my place to be by his side as much as I want it to be.

We break the kiss, and I pull back to look up at him.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you,” I tell him, purposefully antagonizing him.

“You’ll be sharing our bed,” he states, then proceeds to kiss me again.

I shove him back against the tiles, and he smirks at the move. “You do not have free access to me. I am not yours.”

His hand glides over my stomach, then slips lower, sliding along my folds, before he inserts one finger into me and hooks into the sweet spot.

“No access. Got it.” His thumb rubs over my clit, and he tries to kiss me again, but I push him back. I’m trying to make this thing between us only physical.

“Stop being so…” I wave a hand at him, and he tries to hide his smile but fails miserably.

“You need to let me release some of this tension,” he states, and before I can say another word, he’s fisting my hair tighter and turning me so my back is to him, ass brushing against his cock. “Let me assist in your release.”

“You sound like a dickhead,” I inform him as I spread my legs a little wider, allowing his cock to tease my entrance. He slaps my ass hard before lifting his hand to my breast and twisting my nipple.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say you want this cock”? He pushes inside me, but just the tip, before he pulls back out and gives my ass another slap.

“Eli,” I growl, infuriated at his teasing.

“No, you can call me husband from now on.”

This time, when he starts to push inside, I push back, and he makes a weird grunting sound as he enters me. The minute he’s inside me, we pause, a sigh of relief escaping us both. It feels so good… so full. His labored breathing matches mine. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says in a gravelly voice that’s dropped a few octaves. He sounds unhinged, as he always does before he turns into a feral animal. I move my hips forward and then push back again, fucking myself on his cock. He remains still for a moment, appreciating the view as water washes over our sins.

Fuck, he feels good. His hands are still as if he can’t function. That is until he pulls out of me completely, lets go of my hair, turns me around to face him, and slams me against the tiled wall, one hand going to my throat. I wrap a leg around his hip, and he snarls at me.

“Stop it,” he growls.

“Stop what?” I tease

“Trying to be in control.”

“I’ve seen you fuck, or have you forgotten? Shut up and fuck me.” I try to rub against him, but he shakes his head, trying to keep a bit of distance between us, as if he knows if he gets too close, I’ll have him.

“You have my ring on your finger; you will call me your husband as we fuck.”

“You aren’t my husband yet.”

He smiles evilly, then lifts my hand to his lips, sucking my ring finger into his mouth while maintaining eye contact with me. Something happens between my legs as his tongue circles around my finger before he pulls it free. And then he drops to his knees.

His fucking knees.

“Eli, I⁠—”

“I’m going to ravish you,” he warns, looking up at me through wet lashes.

I swallow hard. A small part of me should be mortified, but I’ve become so used to his wild demands and tastes that I just nod, letting him have me any way he wants—period or not.

He lifts my leg gently and places it over his shoulder, then he leans forward, his mouth finding my clit. He takes one long lick before he sucks it into his mouth.

Oh my fucking God.

My legs start shaking, and my hands grope along the tiled wall, trying to find something to grip onto, but there’s nothing. He continues licking and sucking, the pleasure washing through me.

It’s like heaven. I’ve had a man go down on me before, but never like this. Usually, it’s a few licks, and they’re done.

But not Eli. He keeps on going, even when my knee starts to buckle, and I know I can’t keep it up much longer.

“Eli,” I beg.

“No.” He pauses his assault on my clit to answer.

I know what he wants to hear, but I’m not willing to give it to him, even if he can make me see stars. I could make him see stars, too… with my guns if I shot him. But that would put a stop to the orgasm that is literally about to take hold of me.

And that would really be unfair.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, and I grab my tits and squeeze. He stands then, leaning in and kissing me on my lips.

“Next time you come, you will scream ‘husband.’” Then he lifts me up like a rag doll, holds me to him, and lowers me gently until he is fully inside me. And then he starts moving. I wrap my arms around his neck as we continue to kiss, and I can taste myself on his tongue.

Fuck, I’m in over my head with this man.

Eli Monti is gorgeous in the most perfect bad boy way.

I’m letting him fuck me, and he wants me to call him my husband.

A small part of me, no matter how hard I try to deny it, wants there to be truth in this claim.

And it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve experienced.

What have I gotten myself into?