She was too terrified to even entertain the thought that she’d found him. Him: the man she’d conjured up in her fantasies during the loneliest hours of the night, the one who would make her feel alive again, make her want again.

Elijah had done those things. The cruel twist of fate—there always had to be one, she supposed—was that he was the one man she wasn’t supposed to have.

Tonight, though, she could. He was here for her, he wanted her, had been waiting for her, too.

His body was so gorgeous, all stretched out beneath her, awaiting her next move as his green eyes watched her. At first she’d felt unsure when he’d pulled her on top of him, but now she felt free. The briefest memory of Jacob’s heavy body pressing down on her and sweating all over her had flashed through her mind, but she’d banished him from this place. Elijah had not made her feel trapped, nor cornered, nor coerced in any way. He hadn’t made her feel weak. He’d given her every bit of the power between them. He could never know what that meant to her.

But now that she had it, she didn’t quite know what to do with it. He seemed to see right into her head.

His hands went to her hips, the pressure so gentle she barely felt it. “Start like this,” he murmured, and slowly urged her down so that her clit brushed the underside of him, where he was so hard. She touched latex instead of his skin, but the smooth slide against her damp heat was delectable as he showed her how to move her hips.

“Ooh,” she said, closing her eyes and letting her body take over the motions, discovering that it already knew what felt good. Eli dropped his hands from her, but she caught them and brought them up to her breasts, needing the reassurance of his touch in this firestorm.

She was acquainted well by now with his hands, his mouth, and how they brought pleasure. But this slow tease awoke an aching emptiness between her legs that grew more desperate with each passing moment, begging to be filled. No amount of pressing closer to him assuaged it. He knew what he was doing, making her crave him like this. The only relief for this was to face her fears and take him.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re going to feel so fucking good.”

His patience with her was extraordinary. Hers had run out at last. On her last forward slide, she lifted her hips slightly, and let the head of him nudge against her entrance. One of his hands went to angle himself better, and she found something incredibly hot about that. His eyes remained steady on her face, and her breathing spiraled out of control as she sank over him. “Oh. Eli.”

He answered with an almost inhuman sound that managed to form into a long rush of syllables. “Godfuckingdamn.” She would have giggled, but she was so hot, and so wet, and the stretch of him was so delicious that she needed the pain of it to keep her grounded. All the sensations combined, morphing into something bigger than she was, something that dwarfed her and all the silly little expectations she’d had for how this might feel. It was beyond anything she could have comprehended.

He was the one who pulled back. She fell against his chest, kissing him hungrily. “Don’t stop.”

“Give me a second,” he rasped. “I’m gonna fucking explode.”

That she did this to him only made her want him more. God, yes. She wanted to see this man fucking explode. All for her. His kisses devoured her mouth, plundering, taking. She welcomed it all. And when he said, “Take it, baby, put me back in,” her hands couldn’t move fast enough. His tip slicked through her greedy wetness, and she groaned as he pushed his hips up and parted her, easing in deeper than before. Pure bliss engulfed her.

“What do I feel like?” she questioned, thinking she sounded like a different woman.

“Sweet fucking satin oblivion,” he murmured. “I couldn’t remember my name right now if you asked me.”

“Elijah,” she assured him. Because he was all that existed right now for her, so she could remember for him.

“Oh, yeah. Are you okay?”

Far beyond. “I’m okay.” That he couldn’t remember his own name, but could remember to take care of her, made her glow of pleasure all the brighter, all the sweeter. And she appreciated so much his allowing her to take control, but thought she might benefit more from his expertise than her own limited experience. She trusted him to lead her. “Can I be under you?”

“You can be wherever you want.”

Instead of rolling her over, he wrapped his arms around her, sat up, got his knees under him, and planted her back to the mattress, all without letting her go or pulling out of her. The shift made her gasp, his depth hitting new angles as she gazed up at him. His eyes never left her face, the watchfulness somehow a comfort rather than a scrutiny. She’d never felt so cherished. She’d never felt like she was where she belonged until this moment.

It was a dangerous way to feel. But he moved, withdrawing slowly, and she couldn’t remember why. There couldn’t be anything dangerous here. Nothing could hurt her. This was heaven.

And she realized that he hadn’t given her everything, easing her through this, because when he glided back inside her, he gave her more of him. And more. The next time, even more. At last, he met her flush, fully buried in her, and her shaking wouldn’t stop. Her heart raced erratically, skipping beats. She might die. She didn’t care.

And he looked so confident, so in control, so patient, though she felt the fine tremors in his muscles, too. She could caress his arms and feel the vibrations beneath his skin. Their breathing was in rhythm, rapid and warm in the limited space between them. 

“What do l feel like?” he asked softly.

She wasn’t the dirty lyricist that he was, and she couldn’t remember her name right now, either. “So big. I feel you everywhere. You make me aware of every cell in my body.”

He gave her a wolfish grin, slowly withdrawing again as lightning raced along her nerve endings. “Good. Now I’m going to light them all up.”

And he did. Gently at first, to give her ample time to acclimate to the feel of him moving through her. Faster, once her fingernails began to dig into his back, urging him on. Teasing once she began to pant, pulling out to rub her clit until she begged to have him back. Only he would start the cruel, rapturous cycle all over again. She somehow recalled Sara’s words about being surprised what might come out of her mouth when he was giving it good. Even in her limited experience, she knew Elijah Vance gave it good. But she bit down on her words, bashful, flushed and wonderstruck.

He didn’t have any such qualms.

“I want you to come,” he told her roughly, sounding in that moment more like his stage presence—hard and ruthless and demanding of his audience, watching the mess he was making of her with an intensity she almost wanted to hide from. So open to him, every part of her exposed. His eyes glanced down at where he disappeared into her over and over again and she nearly went up in flames; she wished she could see, too. His thumb circled her clit, everything he was doing blending into one sweet, glowing ache that built brighter and brighter, so bright it blinded her. She closed her eyes, fists clenching on the covers, his beauty too much for her to take right then.

“Elijah,” she gasped, tossing her head.

“You’re ready, baby girl. Come on me before you kill me.”

Whether it was simply timing, or his words, she didn’t know. It didn’t matter. Her thighs tightened. Her heels dug into the bed and she pushed up her hips, positioning herself just so, just so . . .

Iris’s hand slammed down hard over her mouth to trap the cry that might wake anyone within five miles, but it tore loose anyway. Her body shook in wracking waves of ecstasy as he caught her hips, holding her to that one glorious spot, ravaging it, sending her higher even when she thought if he didn’t stop she might die, but she surely would if he did. Somehow her heart kept beating through the physical and emotional battering it took.

She reached blindly for him as she came down, and he was there, lowering himself over her again. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and held on. She’d found her release, but he hadn’t yet. His strokes were selfish and artless now. “So good. Fuck.”

He pushed deep and stilled, loud, throaty growls hot and gusting against her right ear as she felt him pulsing inside her. That she did this to him filled her with an overwhelming sense of power. This strong man, lost in her, pouring himself into her.

This was how it should have always been.

––––––––

POWER WAS SUCH A FRAGILE thing. Strong and indestructible one moment. Cold, useless ash the next.

Iris watched him sleep and envied the peace that came over him when he lay wrapped in dreams. It was so unfamiliar to be here beside him, but she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Despite her exhaustion, her soreness, her utter depletion, she hadn’t closed her eyes all night, and it must be close to dawn.

It wasn’t that he’d made her feel unsure or as if she’d made a mistake. The only regret she had was that she hadn’t waited for him. She’d never been surer about anything, and nothing that had happened here tonight between them could ever be wrong. It was what they faced in the days to come. Every minute with him was precious, and she didn’t want to spend them all sleeping.

As if her inner turmoil finally broke through and reached him through slumber, his eyes cracked open. Caught, Iris tore hers away, embarrassed to be caught staring at him.

“What’s up?” he asked drowsily, inching toward her and offering his arm. She scooted closer and settled on his chest, exactly where she had been in that other world, the one that had ended when he had opened her eyes to a brand new one. Eli drew the covers snug around her, wrapped her in his arms, and waited for her to answer.

She didn’t really want to hit him with her heaviness when he was half asleep, but she needed so much to talk. “Don’t know. I’m feeling so many things.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Happy?”

“So happy.”

“Scared.” He didn’t even make it a question.

“So scared.”

“I know how you should feel. I know how I want you to feel.”

“How’s that?”

“You should feel beautiful. You should feel strong. You should feel courageous, and loving, and loved.”

He did it; he broke the dam inside her, the one that had been teetering on the verge of collapse all night. She turned her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking with emotion as his skin soaked up her tears and he held her fiercely, his mouth pressed into her hair. She wanted to feel all those ways he wanted for her, but she didn’t. Not yet. Maybe someday. That elusive someday that would never come, because of fear and secrets and betrayal. Things that were no fault of hers, but still ruled over her.

“Tonight was everything I wanted it to be,” she told him softly.

“Then why are you crying your eyes out on me, love?”

“Because everything else is so messed up.”

With profound gentleness, he tilted her chin up and stroked the clinging hairs away from her damp face. Nothing in his expression showed panic or disappointment or dread at the sight of her tears, but neither did it show sublime happiness, either. “Things are pretty fucked up,” he agreed, then exhaled a weary sigh. “Maybe what’s most fucked up for me is that you were generally happy until you met me,” he finished quietly.

“But I’m happy that I met you,” she insisted. “I don’t want this to be all for nothing.” Was she destined for the same horrific situation all over again: having everything in the palm of her hand and having it taken away?

She could never compare Elijah to Jacob, even if—after—this all went awry. Never. The two didn’t exist in the same universe.

“I don’t either,” he assured her, green eyes gentle as he continued stroking her face. She would never get tired of him doing that. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you about Dylan.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. You didn’t have to.”

“It complicated things even more.”

“How?”

His hand fell away, and he stared morosely into her eyes. Fully awake now. That intensity no longer intimidated her or made her want to back down. “How do you feel about Heidi now?”

She seethed at the mere mention of the name. Eli must have seen that animosity flare to life in her face, because he nodded. “Now you’re ready to throw your job away over my issues, disrupt everything in your life when I don’t want that for you. There will be a scandal with us, Iris. Whether we end up going public now or years from now, she won’t let it be. My fans have already caught wind of you. I can weather her drama. I’m used to it. It’s you I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect.”

She watched the tips of her fingers lightly trace the lines of the tattoo across his chest. Why could nothing be simple? Why were there never any easy choices? “You don’t have to protect me. If I can have you, have this every night, I think I can face anything.”

Eli didn’t look convinced. “You say that now.”