Eli: It’s . . . it’s too much.
Posey: Then I hope seeing her going out with other men is something you get used to because that shit will not stop. You’re attracted to her because she’s fucking gorgeous. And other men will see the same thing. She might be living in your house, but she’s still single, man.
The front door opens, and I spring up from the sofa where I’ve been pulling on my hair for the last half hour, rocking back and forth, begging and pleading for her to come home.
She shuts the door behind her and locks up. When she turns around, she comes to an abrupt stop when she spots me standing in the living room, with nothing but the light of a side table lamp illuminating the space.
“Eli, you startled me.” She takes her heels off and then sets her purse down on the console table.
I’m a goddamn wreck.
My heart is in my throat.
My limbs feel numb.
And when I go to speak, my throat is so tight from holding back on my emotions.
“Did you . . .” I clear my throat as I’m hit square in the chest with the thought that passes through my mind. “Did you kiss him?”
She turns away. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Penny,” I say desperately, tugging on my hair. “Please, please just fucking tell me.”
Instead of answering, she heads to our bedroom, where I hear her getting ready for bed.
“Fuck,” I say out loud before picking up a pillow from the couch and throwing it across the room. I plop back down on the couch and dive my hands into my hair.
Nausea roils in my stomach from the thought of her lips on someone else’s. Of another man holding her hand. Hugging her. Thinking they have even a shot at being hers, let alone Remi fucking Gasper.
What did they do? Did they talk about me? About my fucked-up head?
Did they hold hands during dinner? Stare into each other’s eyes? Make fucking plans for future dates?
Agony rips through me just as I feel her step in front of me. She bends at the knees and lifts my chin to look at her.
No longer in her date night outfit, she’s changed into her nightgown. Her face is clear, and her hair is tied up into a messy bun.
“Just . . . just tell me,” I say, my voice choked.
Her expression turns soft as she closes the space between us and presses her lips to mine. My hand slips to the nape of her neck, and I hold her in place, opening my mouth, my tongue swiping against hers.
With her hand on my chest, she pushes me back on the couch and then climbs on top of my lap. Her belly makes it a little harder for us to connect, but I still keep her in place, making sure she knows this mouth of hers is all I ever fucking want, nothing more.
When she pulls away, her finger drags across my cheek as she softly says, “I didn’t kiss him, Eli. I didn’t even give him a hug goodbye.”
Relief washes through me as I slowly lower my head to her chest, where she hugs me tightly.
“Fuck . . .” I quietly say as I hold her.
I’m not sure how long I hold her for, but I do. I hold on tight. I allow myself to soak her in, to remind myself that she doesn’t belong to anyone else, that she’s here, with me, on my lap, in my arms.
She’s mine.
When I finally lift my head, she presses her hand to my cheek and leans in for another kiss. This one is more demanding, more needy, and I feel the same way. My hands fall to the hem of her nightgown, and I lift it over her head. I waste no time and quickly take one of her breasts into my mouth.
My lips travel over her skin, kissing, licking . . . sucking.
I nibble up her chest, I bite tenderly on her nipples, and when I reach her neck, I spend a moment marking her, letting every goddamn person in this world know that she belongs to me.
And she lets me.
She tilts her head to the side, offering me her delicate skin, letting me take charge.
And when I feel satisfied, when I know she’s been branded by my possessive self, I stand her up, bend her over so her hands are gripping the armrest of the couch, and I release my cock from my shorts.
In one smooth thrust, I enter her, bottoming out immediately.
Her back arches, and she lets out a long moan right before I pulse inside her.
Hard.
Thrusting.
Taking.
Claiming.
I fuck her, over and over again until she’s yelling out my name, her perfect, little pussy gripping me.
It’s at that moment that I know . . . she’s mine. She will always be mine.
I just need to figure out how to keep her.
“Can I ask you a question?” Penny says.
Naked and in bed, I’m spooning her from behind, drifting off to sleep.