When I’m a safe distance away from the den, he releases me, and I look back at him. “Their opinion really matters to you, doesn’t it?”
“I want my place at the table.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain!” He screeches.
“Are you having a panic attack?” I ask, concerned.
“I will be if you don’t start dusting!”
His eyes bulge. “I know I’m acting like a lunatic, but I do care. I care a lot.”
“Okay,” I say, trying my hardest not to laugh and failing. “Crazy ass man.”
“Crazy about you,” he says before turning and darting back into the den.
“Well, our relationship is off to a great start,” I call out, shaking my head and buffing the table next to the couch. “You just kicked me out of bed after sex, and now you’re ordering me around like the help.”
“Special circumstances,” he fires back, “I’ll make it up to you.”
I hear the rustling behind me, knowing Eli is fluffing his sheets before he flips the switch to put more air in the mattress. The motor cuts off a minute later, and the house goes eerily quiet until…
“Whitney,” Eli whisper shouts from the mattress as if we aren’t alone in the house.
“Yes?”
“That was fire.”
“Thanks?” I say, unable to help my laugh.
I can feel his smile even though I can’t see it.
“I’m already hard for you again…Was that a car?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Oh, shit, Whit. Fix your hair!”
“What?”
“Fix your Mufasa hair!” He belts out in panic. “Or Peyton will point it out!”
“My God, fine.” Hastily, I run my fingers through my hair and double-check my clothes. The man is making me paranoid. Not that I want my parents to know I just had more orgasms than I have toes. I tighten my robe cringing at the thought. Yeah, no.
“And fix your clothes,” he orders from the darkened room.
“I just did. Eli, go to sleep.”
“I can’t. My room reeks of lemon polish. I can hardly breathe. Keep dusting.”
I hang my head as another bout of laughter escapes me.
“It’s not funny,” he whispers. “Is that a car?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“No.”
“Whitney?”
“Yes?”
“Please keep dusting, and make it look convincing, okay? I know I’m acting crazy, but I love your family. I really do. I’ve fallen in love with them, and I don’t want to lose their respect.”
His desperation-laced tone tugs at my heart. “Okay.”
“Promise? Remember, I have to work with your brother, and I want to be able to look Allen in the eye tomorrow.”
“I promise you they’ve all fallen for you, too,” I assure him, “and I’m pretty sure they both have had sex, but I’ll make them believers in the one a.m. polish, only for you, baby. And because that sex was fire.”
A pause.
“Like…on a scale of what?”
“You did not just ask me that,” I shake my head with a grin.
“Just want to make sure my girl is happy.”
“An easy hundred out of ten,” I say.
“Good to know…I’ve never had sex in a girlfriend’s parent’s house before.”
“That’s pretty obvious. And it really shouldn’t be a regular occurrence considering your age at present.”
“I’m feeling a little dirty and…a little vulnerable if I’m honest.”
“You don’t say?” I press my lips together as his innocence tugs at my heart. The fact that he’s still inexperienced in certain things is just another reason to let myself fall again. “You know, Eli, I can just go up to bed, and they can wonder why the house smells like polish.”
Silence…then. “They’ll know. They’ll know it’s sex polish.”
I palm my forehead as the cars start to pull up, and I whisper-shout, “Yes, they’re here,” before he gets a chance to ask.
“Bee?” He calls, his whisper lower as the car doors close.
“Yeah?” I say, pulling a few frames off the shelf in an attempt to sell it.
“I’m going to make you so happy. I promise you. Merry Christmas.”
Here we go again, heart, be good to us.
The front door opens a second later as I greet my family with a rag in hand, a beaming heart, and matching smile. “Merry Christmas.”