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Touch Me(8)

By´╝ÜJenika Snow

He smoothed his finger over Freya’s image, her sweet, young face, the fact she’d been so broken back then.

“Is it weird I still have that, that I display it?”

He set the picture back and turned to face her. She held two glasses of what he assumed was lemonade. “Is it weird that I like the fact you still have that?” He said it like a question, but he was teasing her … mostly. He did like that she had it. Elijah walked up to her and took the glass she held out for him. They went over to the couch and sat down, and for a few seconds neither spoke.

“I like what you’ve done to the place.” He hadn’t realized how clichéd it sounded until the words were out of his mouth. “You’ve really made it your own.”


He looked over at her and saw she was smiling. She looked around the room, brought the glass to her mouth, and took a sip from it. He watched her lips curve around the rim of the glass, saw the drop of condensation move down the glass and drip onto her chest.

Fucking hell.

He lifted his gaze back to her face, saw she was watching him, and for the first time in his life he was embarrassed. Yeah, she’d just caught him being an asshole and checking her out. He should apologize, because that sure as hell would have been the right thing to do, but then again that would mean he’d be admitting to being inappropriate, and he didn’t want it to be uncomfortable.

“Why did you really come by today, Elijah?” she asked, but it was spoken softly, curiously. There was no accusation in her words. “Not that I don’t like spending time with you, because I do.” She smiled. “I’m just curious.”

She had every right to feel a bit weird that after all these years he was here, in her living room, drinking lemonade. He hadn’t tried to contact her after that first time, and although he thought about her, work and life in general had gotten in the way.

It was a shitty excuse.

He set the glass on the table, leaned back on the couch, and stared at that picture that was of the two of them four years prior. “I thought about you a lot when you were away. I wanted to call, but I guess shit just got in the way of what I really wanted to do.” He looked at her then. She’d shifted on the couch so she was facing him fully now.

“I wanted to call you, too. I thought about you a lot, wondering what you were doing, how things were.” She looked at her hands that were in her lap. “I read about you in those big name papers though, knew you were doing well.” She lifted her head again. “Things were just busy and hectic, for both of us.”

“I know. It’s easy to let life get in the way.”

She nodded. “I’m really glad I came back and we ran into each other again.” She sounded nervous again, but it was understandable.

He was nervous too, and the way she was moving slightly on the seat, as if she couldn’t control her nervousness, told him that this attraction wasn’t just one way. Right now her cheeks were rosy, her pupils dilated, and her mouth slightly parted. Did she realize that these little telltale signs of her attraction to him made him feel like a beast ready to pounce, ready to take down its prey?

And she’s the prey, the vulnerable, innocent prey that you want to devour like a damned depraved beast.

They stared at each other for several seconds, neither speaking, but the heat and electricity moving between them tangible. Yeah, he knew if he stayed here any longer he might do something that jeopardized their friendship, even if she was acting like she wanted him. Elijah didn’t want to push things, or cross that fucking line, but he also knew he wouldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t.


Her heart was beating a mile a minute, but she was trying to keep her composure. The thing was, she knew she was doing a shoddy job at it, knew Elijah could see the emotions written clearly across her face, in her body language. She kept shifting her body on the couch, she knew that, but the fact was he stared at her, looked at her with those piercing eyes, his big body so masculine, so powerful, that everything in her was nervous, on edge.

“Freya…” He said her name softly, but deeply. His voice could make a woman drop their panties and grab their ankles, and as crude as that statement was, Elijah was one of those insanely handsome, magnetic men. He could make women do whatever they wanted with just a snap of his finger, with just a lift of his eyebrow. He was so attractive in his suits, but in this casual attire, the jeans and loose fitting shirt, he screamed masculinity.

He screams masculinity, sexuality … power, no matter what he wears or how he acts.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He leaned in an inch closer, his arm on the back of the couch as he came closer and closer. She didn’t move, couldn’t.

“I think I want that, too.” She could have groaned in humiliation at the fact she’d said she thought she wanted that, too. Of course she wanted that. Yeah, she really wanted him to kiss her.

They looked at each other for several more seconds, neither speaking, but their breathing slowly becoming quicker. She could see signs of his arousal for her, could see it in the way he held himself stiff, his big body coiled. Although he looked in control, his expression showing nothing, his hands were bunched into tight fists, his lips slightly parted, and his gaze was trained on her mouth.

She could tell he was losing control, as well.

Freya wanted to be bold, to take what she wanted like she’d never done in her life before, but of course she was afraid. But she wasn’t that teenager anymore, who didn’t see herself as having a meaningful future. She didn’t see herself as lost in a world that had no place for her.

So, finding that strength deep inside of her, knowing that what she was about to do might be wrong to many people, Freya just took what she wanted.

Leaning forward she was a hairsbreadth away from Elijah’s mouth now. They kept hold of each other’s gazes, and then he reached out, wrapped his hand in her hair behind her head, and yanked her forward. Freya had to brace her hands on his chest from the force of him pulling her closer, but she loved that, loved that he wanted her so close.

He pressed his mouth to hers, and for a second they stayed like that, neither moving, neither seeming to breathe. His pectoral muscles were so hard beneath her palms, so powerful. She curled her nails into his shirt, heard him hiss, but when she was about to pull her hands away he groaned against her mouth.

“No, Freya. I like it, like your hands on me,” he said against her mouth. And then he was kissing her harder, more thoroughly, like he couldn’t get enough. He swept his tongue out, licked at her bottom lip before doing the same to her top. Over and over he did this, just licking her sensually, slowly. She was wet, so damn wet between her thighs that shifting to try to relieve the arousal rooted there only made it worse.

“Elijah,” she breathed out his name, not knowing exactly why she’d done it, but loving that because she had, he pulled her tighter to him. Their chests now touched, her breasts molded to his hardness. She opened her mouth for him, touched her tongue with his, and it was like fireworks exploded inside of her, rendering her motionless.

She held onto his shirt, pulled him as close as she could, which was almost impossible seeing as their bodies already touched. Freya took one of her hands and lifted it to the nape of his neck, ran her fingers up the back of his hair, and tightened her hold on the short strands. Elijah moved his hand that held her hair down her back, gripped her ass, and did the same with his other hand.

Fireworks continued to explode inside of her, lighting her up, making her wet, heated, losing her mind.

He held the sounds in his hand, and with a strength she sensed in him from the very beginning he hauled her off the cushion and onto his lap. She straddled him, one leg bent and pressed against the back of the couch, the other hanging off of it. He leaned back, clenched and unclenched his hands on her ass, and moaned.

“You’re so damn hot, so fucking sweet on my lips.” He seemed to moan the words out. “Touch me, Freya. Fucking hell, I need you to touch me.”

Every part of her body tingled after he said those words. Her pussy clenched, became wetter, and her nipples hardened. She pulled back, breaking their kiss, and looked up into his face. He looked so fierce right now, his dark hair brushing the top of his forehead, slightly disheveled from when she ran her hand through it and tugged on the strands.

Never had she been so bold in her life, or this sexual. Although she’d never had this arousal burn inside of her, pounding, fierce, angry almost.

Moving her hand down his chest while still holding her gaze with his, Freya trailed her fingers over his belt. At the first touch of her fingers over the hard, thick length of his erection this slight sound left her. He was so big, his dick pushing against the material of his pants, as if demanding to be free. She’d assumed he was big everywhere because of his overall size, but God, he felt monstrous between his legs, and she hadn’t even fully touched him yet.

“Elijah,” she breathed out. Freya blinked a few times as if it would clear her mind, and then added a bit of pressure to his dick. She swore the damn thing jerked for her, and she couldn’t deny she wanted to be bolder, to just unzip his pants and pull it out.