Chapter 147

Agnes

I followed Elijah up the stairs, our fingers intertwined and our footsteps soft and quiet. The house was silent around us, save for the faint creak of the steps and the distant hum of crickets beyond the windows.

But then there was my heart, pounding so hard against my ribs I thought for sure he could hear it in the silence. It rose in rhythm as he led me toward his room.

As he opened the door, it struck me that I’d only been in Elijah’s room a couple of times before. Every detail sharpened into focus as we slipped inside.

The room was pristine, almost too perfect, like he hardly ever slept in it at all. The air carried the scent of pine and cologne. It was cool in here, the kind of chill that brushed against my arms and made me hyper-aware of my own body.

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting silver streaks across the dark bedding, and I swallowed hard as Elijah turned to me, his eyes glinting.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His hands found my waist, guiding me gently toward the bed, and my breath caught as he laid me down. The mattress dipped under my weight, and then his lips were on mine.

My fingers tangled in his hair, and I pushed away every nagging thought screaming that this was a bad idea. Olivia. The mate bond. Thea.

All of it.

For now, I just wanted to be here, present with him, lost in the heat of his mouth moving against mine.

His kisses trailed lower, brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, and a shiver raced down my spine. My blood began to boil with something deep and heady, not anger, but something far more tender and sultry.

Elijah’s hand slid up my shirt, his palm warm against my soft waist. His fingers traced the curve there, then moved higher, brushing the swell of my breasts. I arched into his touch, a quiet gasp escaping my lips as he explored my nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

Our clothes came off in a blur—my shirt tugged over my head, his buttons undone with trembling fingers to reveal his considerable manhood. Goddess, just the sight of it, twitching slightly toward my already-soaked pussy, was enough to make me tremble.

Too long. It had been too long since we’d had sex. I wanted every inch of him inside of me, and my belly heated just at the thought, a pleasant throb working through me as if he were filling me already.

Driven by that heat, I quickly shoved his shirt off his shoulders, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. My skirt hit the floor next, followed by his pants, until there was nothing left between us but skin and air.

He pressed himself against me, evidence of his arousal solid against my inner thigh, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer as we fell into each other. He slipped into me in one motion because I was so slick with want already.

“Fuck, Agnes,” Elijah murmured, and the sound of his voice, low and husky, was enough to make my muscles tighten around that hard member. “You’re wet. And tight.”

I bit my lip, tilting my head back against the pillows to get a good look at him. Without even thinking, I cupped his square-jawed face in my hands and tugged him closer. My tongue slipped between his lips, nicking his teeth and grazing the roof of his mouth. A guttural groan echoed from his chest into mine, and it was all I could do not to come immediately as he began bucking his hips against mine.

We made love then, slow at first, then building into something desperate and consuming. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me against him with each thrust.

Sparks flew between us, just as they had the first time we’d made love, and yet… something about it felt strangely familiar.

We’d only done this once before, months ago, that one single night that had burned itself into my memory. But this—this felt like more.

Like our bodies knew each other in ways they shouldn’t, like we’d danced this dance more than just twice. I chalked it up to the hidden mate bond between us. That had to be it. The connection Olivia couldn’t sever, no matter how hard she tried. So I let it go, focusing instead on the feel of him, the way he filled me with his warm and throbbing cock, the way he made me feel whole.

When we came together, it was like a dam breaking—intense, overwhelming, leaving me trembling in his arms. My chest heaved as I caught my breath, and Elijah held me close, his lips pressing soft kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

His touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before, and I melted into him, savoring the warmth of his skin against mine.

After a while, he shifted, sliding out of bed and pulling me with him. My legs wobbled as my feet hit the floor, still shaky from the intensity of it all, but he steadied me with a hand on my elbow. Without a word, he led me into his en suite bathroom. He turned on the faucet, and the sound of water filling the tub echoed in the air. Steam rose as the bath warmed, and I watched, mesmerized, as he tested the temperature with his fingers.

He stepped in first, settling against the back of the tub, then held out a hand to me. I took it, climbing in and sinking down between his legs. The water enveloped me, and I leaned back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His arms wrapped around me, one hand reaching for a sponge. He dipped it into the water, then began washing me, starting at my shoulders and working his way down.

The cloth grazed my skin, leaving trails of warmth in its wake, and I closed my eyes, letting myself drift in the sensation. His hand moved lower, brushing over my breasts, then dipping between my thighs. My breath hitched as his fingers lingered there, teasing my most sensitive spots, and a fresh wave of heat coiled low in my belly. I pressed myself closer, my head tipping back against his shoulder, and he kissed the side of my neck as he dipped two fingers into me.

Slowly, deliberately, he coaxed me to orgasm. My muscles tightened around his fingers as I came again, and when I finished, he lifted his hand and slipped his fingers into his mouth—tasting me.

Goddess, the sight almost put me in a coma.

For a while, we stayed just like that, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the bathroom fading away. I could’ve stayed there forever, cocooned in his embrace, cheeks flushed from multiple orgasms.

But as the heat began to fade, reality crept back in.

If I slept with him tonight—if I stayed in his bed—morning would come, and Thea might see. We’d made a promise not to drag her into our strange, dangerous romance. And when I glanced at Elijah and saw the look in his eyes, I knew he was having the same thought.

“I should go,” I murmured. He hesitated, his eyes sweeping over my body, now wrapped in a towel, but didn’t argue. We both knew it was for the best if we slept in our own beds. If we just let our night of passion be one night to remember, and not let it snowball into something that could hurt Thea or us.

With that, I slipped back into my clothes and he walked me to the door of his room. His hand brushed mine one last time, a silent promise, and then I stepped into the hallway. The floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I crossed to my bedroom. It was only across the hall, and yet it felt like miles away.

I shut the door behind me with a shiver, feeling suddenly colder without Elijah’s presence. How much longer would we have to sneak around like this, stealing moments in the shadows?

How much longer until he could finally be mine?