CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elijah
Look out below!
—Charleston Post
Sleep didn’t come easy last night.
It was the first time I’ve slept in the master bedroom and I spent a lot of time staring up at the domed ceiling. There’s no dome on the roof of the house, so I have zero clue where the dome…domes. Around three in the morning, I got so restless, I almost climbed up to the top of the damn house to solve the mystery. But I found myself walking toward Addison’s room, instead. She’d closed the door, so I stood there a few minutes trying to justify opening it.
Maybe she knows what’s up with the dome? I could just nudge her awake and ask her. Might be fun to see a peeved Addison rub sleep from her eyes and tell me off.
No might about it. That would definitely be fun.
I’d paced some more, trying to find an excuse to open the door. I could think of several selfish reasons, including wanting to know what she’s wearing, if she’s warm enough, if there’s any physical way I could fit into a twin-sized bed with her. Not that I would try it without her inviting me, but I’d just like to know. For logistics’ sake.
Now, I flip off the shower faucet in the master bath, letting the water drip off my face. I don’t give a shit about the dome in the bedroom. I just want to know why the closer I get to Addison, the further she scoots away. She doesn’t want to be my girlfriend? Fine. I hate it, but I understand her skepticism after the unorthodox start to our relationship. Now I have no choice but to be patient, prove to her I’m steadfast and wait for her to trust me enough to attempt…this. Living together, walking through the front door holding hands, splitting cooking duty. Same as we did before, except now we’re sleeping together.
Again, I remind myself this is exactly what I wanted. Why do I feel like either foot is on a weighing scale and leaning too far in one direction is going to screw me?
I push off the marble wall of the shower, ripping a towel off the rack and drying myself off. No doubt about it, I’m good and annoyed. Which is pretty damn amazing, considering I had the kind of sex last night most men don’t know enough to fantasize about. I sure as hell didn’t, until that night in my office. Addison is…abandoned, adventurous, naughty as all get out, sweet as an angel, and occasionally, perfectly silly when we’re fucking. All those things wrapped up in this too-sexy package that can’t quite hide its little tears. Tears I have no idea how to locate and repair, but I need to find for my own sanity.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’m obsessed with her.
I’m one hundred percent obsessed with my best friend.
When I’d given up on justifying my actions last night, I’d opened her bedroom door just to get a look. She wasn’t in bed, though. No, she was outside sitting on the floor of the balcony, her arms wrapped around her drawn in legs. She was so still, I got to wondering if I’d fallen asleep and was dreaming her sitting there, hair carrying like streamers on the wind. I’d backed out of the room to the sound of my hammering heart—and it hammers again now as I get dressed in my black suit, blue tie and initialed cufflinks.
Why does everything seem so precarious? One minute last night, she’s looking at me with a total lack of guile and the next…she’s practically tripping over herself to get away.
I’m getting answers out of her. And I’m getting them today.
Mind set, I leave the room and its confusing dome in my wake. I’m relieved to hear her in the kitchen when I get halfway down the stairs, meaning she hasn’t gone running yet. It’s Sunday, so she’s not working in the market. Normally I would take Sunday off, too, but I have a speaking engagement this afternoon and official correspondence with the state government that has to be sent by tomorrow. If I want to make dinner for Addison tonight, I have no choice but to plow through.
When I walk into the kitchen, I find Addison standing at the coffee maker in spandex running shorts and a T-shirt. One that provides a good amount of coverage. Thank you, God.
She turns and sends me a knowing smile over her shoulder. “Morning, Captain.”
I nod back with appreciation. “Morning, Goose.”
My annoyance is already taking a rapid nosedive as I move farther into the kitchen, picking a mug out of the cabinet and joining Addison at the coffee pot. A sense of rightness settles over me as we go through our patented routine. She pours us both a cup. I add the sugar to each mug. She adds the milk to them, while I stir it in. The difference between now and when we lived together as platonic roommates is…my cock plumps to the smell of her, filling out the front of my pants. The heat from her hip makes me wonder if she’s sporting bruises from my fingers. When I glance over and find her nipples hard, I drop the spoon with a clatter, turn Addison and press her up against the counter.
“See? What did I tell you?” she breathes into my mouth, shifting her sexy body against my erection. “Not fit for public.”
That sexual guilt she likes to inflict prods my gut with need, but I don’t let her distract me. I take her chin in my hand and hold her steady. “Why won’t you sleep beside me?” Her smile drops like an anvil and she tries to push me off, but I cage her in, our bodies flush. “Don’t give me that bullshit about keeping the mystery alive, either.”
“You probably snore,” she blurts. “And…I’m not a cuddler.”
“That’s all you’ve got? I probably snore and you aren’t a cuddle enthusiast?
Sparks shoot from her eyes. “That’s right.”
“Knowing when you need space is a hobby of mine. I’ll know when you want to stretch out on your own side of the bed, Addison.” I nod once. “I’m demanding you try.”
She gasps. “Demanding?”
“You heard me. And you’re fucking beautiful all day, but especially in the morning.”
“I—” Her mouth opens and shuts. “Wait. What?”
I tunnel my fingers through her hair, definitely messing up her ponytail, but I can’t keep my hands off her. “And if I snore, I’ll find a position where I don’t.”
“How do you not know if you snore?” She hiccups. “Didn’t N…N-Naomi…tell you?”
Everything goes very still. Except for my pulse, which is going a thousand miles an hour. What the hell? A few days ago, she had no problem saying my ex-fiancée’s name—smiled while she did it—and now she looks equal parts devastated and defiant. And then I remember the day I showed up with the movers. How she went pale when they opened the door to the master bedroom.
I’m an idiot. I am a giant, unworthy, lumbering, idiot man.
“You won’t sleep in the same room as me because it was supposed be her room?”
“Both of your room. And…no.” She scoffs. “I don’t care. She picked out every piece of furniture in this house, Elijah. I wouldn’t be able to go into any of the rooms, if I was…if that bothered me.”
She’s lying. She can’t even look me in the eye. Holy shit. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m a man and one piece of furniture looks the same as any other to me.”
Affection—or perhaps feminine sympathy over my very male plight—collides with her panic. But she shoos it away. “I said that wasn’t it.”
This time, when she shoves me away, I go. One step. Even though I don’t want to. I want to pick her up and beg and kiss her. Addison grabs on to her freedom without hesitation and stalks away, however, putting the island between us. Her chin is set and stubborn, but she’s twisting the front of her T-shirt. When I walked in here, she was her usual confident self and now she’s a cornered animal. All because I’m calling a bluff that should not have gotten this far.
My head drops forward. “Oh, sugar.”
“Stop it.” She points at me. “Stop that.”
I turn on a heel and leave the room, because if I have to look at her upset anymore, I’m going to require a straightjacket. It has been a while since I got the tour of this place and I barely remember which door leads to the backyard, but I pick a direction and I commit, dammit. I commit. Turns out, I choose right, probably because the Good Lord knew I needed a break. The glass door leads out onto a brick patio, which I haven’t seen since the original tour. But I don’t take the time to do more than acknowledge the wrought-iron furniture and freshly trimmed hedges. I’ve got my eye on the shed and there’s hell buzzing in my veins.
“What are you doing?” Addison’s catches up to me as I throw open the shed door and search the darkness for what I need. “Elijah, answer me.”
There. Every house has one. Leaning up against the corner of the shed is an axe. Being careful to keep it away from my girlfriend—because that’s damn well what she is—I throw it over my shoulder and march back toward the house.
“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” She jogs alongside me, giving me her best stern voice, which she usually reserves for me leaving the seat up or adding too much garlic to the marinara sauce. “Don’t you dare bring that axe upstairs.”
I turn the corner at the end of the back hallway and climb the stairs, ignoring the gasps of outrage following me. And the stomping, too. There’s definitely some stomping.
“Don’t you dare bring that axe into that bedroom, Elijah Montgomery Du Pont.” She kind of squeals my last name and I can’t hold back a chuckle. “That bed probably cost five figures. You can’t destroy it. You can’t. Put down the axe or I’ll…”
I pause at the entrance to the bedroom. “You’ll what?”
She searches the ceiling for an answer. “I’ll wear the pink bra. I’ll wear it to the market and sell ornaments in it all day long.”
Forget what I said about the Good Lord giving me a break. “I would like to see you try that, Addison Potts. I would love to see you try. I would go through that market like a motherfucking hurricane.”
“You said motherfucking.”
Since that doesn’t require an answer, I kick open the bedroom door, take two steps and bury the axe in the center of the headboard. I don’t have to turn around to know Addison is standing in the doorway with her mouth hanging open. But I do turn when she still doesn’t join me in the room. “Look at you,” I shout, ripping off the bedclothes and tossing them aside. “You won’t even set foot in here. Why didn’t you just say something?”
Her shadow shifts on the wall, but the lack of creaking floorboards tells me she’s still hovering in the entrance. “If saying something leads to you destroying innocent furniture, that showed good judgment on my part.”
With the bed stripped, I move to the floor-to-ceiling windows and pry one all the way open to a symphony of groaning wood, since it hasn’t been used in God knows how long. Then I return to the bed and drag the mattress off the box spring. Even for me, the king-sized mattress is heavy, but it would have to weigh as much as a tank to deter me.
“You can’t be serious,” she breathes.
“Come into the room and I won’t do it.”
She hesitates on the threshold.
I shove the mattress out the window. “The box spring is next.”
“You are a lunatic.” She takes a step into the room, her face painted with color. “I’ll sleep in the stupid bed, all right? Please, please, just don’t destroy it. It must have been special at some point.”
A man with a level head would quit while he’s ahead, but it’s becoming very obvious I don’t have a level head where Addison is concerned. And I’m angrier with myself than anything for lying here all night like an asshole and not seeing the answer that was right in front of me. “Sorry, Goose. It has to go,” I say, pulling the axe out of the headboard. “Any idea why this ceiling is domed?”
“What?”
“Not important.” I’m in the process of picking a good angle for my first swing when Addison rushes around the bed. “Elijah, no—”
“Back up, Addison. Please. You’re the only thing in this room I care about.”
I listen to her shallow breathing move farther and farther away. After a look over my shoulder to confirm she’s out of the axe’s range, I lift the metal tool over my head and swing it down, splitting the headboard clean down the middle. The axe drops to my side, hanging in my hand.
It’s odd…the lightness that follows me turning my bed into fire wood. I destroyed it for Addison, but until now, I wasn’t aware of the pinched nerves I’ve been living with. Failure, falling short of expectations, disappointment. Hell, shock. Those things were never supposed to happen to me. But they did. And I think being blindsided by them on my wedding day hit me in ways I didn’t realize. In ways I don’t want to think about right now. Maybe ever.
When I drop the axe and turn around, Addison is already on her way to me and I’m more than happy to pour all my focus into her. Just her.