Touch Me: A Forbidden Romance Page 7

  Her skin was warm and smooth, and the fact she wore no bra was almost his undoing. Cupping the heavy mound, he swept his thumb over her puckered nipple, loving that she gasped in pleasure. The tips were hard, and he gave a groan of pleasure at the feel.

  She started rocking against him once again, a little faster this time and a little harder. And just like that, she exploded on him. A cry of pleasure left her, and he swallowed the sound.

  After several seconds, and when he was sure she’d gotten off fully, he broke away from her mouth. He lowered his head, leaned down, and started sucking at the dip in her throat, that small little hollow that drove him fucking mad with lust.

  He moved his hand back to her ass, curled his fingers into the flesh barely covered by her gown, and helped her with the rocking motion once more. He was a greedy bastard for her pleasure and wanted her to come for him again.

  The fact he was acting so possessive of her this quickly should have made him feel uneasy or even a little worried, but all he felt was a deep-rooted need to protect her and keep her close. To make her realize he could give her everything she needed.

  She moaned again and continued to grind her pussy on him. Shit, he felt her heat right through his pants.

  She started to slow her grinding, then finally collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily. Freya had her hands on his chest and her face in the crook of his neck as she panted. He held her close and didn’t care that he was so hard his dick could rip right through his pants. Elijah just wanted to hold her.

  Freya was his. He knew that the moment he saw her standing there and looking nervous, shy, and vulnerable. Right now, he just wanted to make her feel good in every way possible because she was it for him.

  She was the one.

  14

  They’d arrived at the business event, and God, did Freya feel out of place. She stared at the incredible house she was in—or more accurately, the mansion. The colossal three-story house was as wide as she could see.

  The event, from what Elijah had told her briefly, was about fundraising for a cervical cancer center. The wealthiest of people were at the event, and they hoped to raise enough to break ground by next year.

  The decorations were extravagant and lavish with crystal chandeliers, butlers in livery, soft classical music being played, and people dressed in gowns and tuxedos. It was like money dripped from the ceiling, and for that reason, Freya felt like she didn’t belong.

  Her father may have had money, but he’d never gone to functions like this. He was modest in most ways, and she’d liked that kind of lifestyle.

  She’d been here for the past half hour with Elijah by her side the whole time. They were currently moving up the sweeping staircase, Elijah holding one hand and a champagne glass in her other.

  A strikingly handsome young man with a thick European accent dressed just as impressive as everyone else here walked up to them and started speaking with Elijah. Freya stared at Elijah as he spoke with the man, and she couldn’t help but feel her body heat at the remembrance of what they’d shared in the limo. She thought about how he’d touched her, then whispered filthy words to her with the promise of what he could give her between the sheets. She wanted to leave the event now, go to his cabin, and just let him claim every part of her.

  God, she needed to calm down or she’d end up embarrassing herself.

  The upper level of the mansion looked like it had been cleared out for the event. Table and chairs dressed in crisp white linen now covered the thick, gold-hued plush carpet. There was a balcony along the top of the landing, beautiful wrought-iron bars that had scrollwork etched into them.

  It was a gorgeous atmosphere, and she felt lucky to experience it, especially with Elijah.

  Elijah moved closer to her, took her arm, and slipped it in the crook of his. He placed his hand over hers as he continued to speak to the man about a merger. After about five minutes, the men parted ways, but before they could move, Elijah turned her in his arms and pulled her close. He tipped her head back with a finger under her chin, smiled down at her, and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was sweet but arousing all in the same breath.

  He broke away, then breathed out harshly as if he were having trouble with the act, and led her over to one of the tables marked “Reserved” in elegant script. It had only been a few weeks they’d shared together, but they had been incredible weeks, ones she hoped she experienced more of with him.

  He pulled out the chair for her, and she felt her face heat as she blushed. “Thank you,” she said, and took the offered seat. He leaned in and kissed the top of her head, then took a seat beside her. More people came and sat at their table, and before too long, waiters in black and white livery were setting plates of exquisite-looking food in front of them.

  They ate for the next half hour, the people at the table striking up conversation mainly about the fundraiser and not so much on a personal level. But Freya didn’t say much anyway, and just listened.

  “Will you dance with me?” Elijah asked after they’d finished eating and had a glass of wine. His face was close to hers again, and his cologne swirling around her had an intoxicating effect.

  “No one has ever asked me to dance.” She swallowed back her embarrassment, but then chuckled when he cocked a brow in surprise. “I might humiliate you with my inexperience, and the fact I’ll be stepping on your toes the whole time,” she teased. Of course she could dance, but lightening up the atmosphere was fun, and she liked doing it with Elijah.

  He brushed his thumb along her jawline. “As long as you’re the one stepping on my toes, I’d be the luckiest man to have you in my arms.”

  God, where had this man come from?

  He stood, held his hand out for her, and after she got her knees to stop shaking from her affection for Elijah, she slipped her open palm in his and stood. Elijah led her to the center of the open floor that was clearly for dancing, and as the soft classical music played around them, she let herself fully embrace it all.

  But as she rested her head on his chest and let herself slip into the wondrous embrace that Elijah provided, she was about to close her eyes when everything stilled in her. There, across from her and only a few feet away, was Meghan sitting at one of the tables. She was dressed in a gorgeous red gown with diamonds in her ears, around her neck, and covering her fingers. A man sat beside her, at least in his seventies, although he looked good for his age. He also screamed wealth, which was the type of man Meghan went for.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but knew she had when Elijah pulled back and looked down at her with confusion.

  “What’s wrong?”

  For a second, she couldn’t speak, especially not when Meghan started laughing. When she tilted her head back, the diamonds on her neck caught the light. And then she turned her head slightly, lifted her hand to get the waiter to notice her, and for a second, their eyes locked on one another. Meghan blinked a few times, straightened, and realization covered her face.

  “Freya, sweetheart?” Elijah turned and looked over his shoulder, and the shock on Meghan’s face when she saw the man Freya danced with was Elijah was like a slap to Freya’s face.

  It was like time stood still and neither could move or speak. Hell, they couldn’t even breathe. Then, because this wasn’t awkward enough, Meghan said something to the older man, stood, and started walking over to them.

  “God, of course this is getting worse,” Freya whispered, and when she tried to move a step back from Elijah, she was surprised he kept her close to him.

  “Fuck her, Freya.”

  That had Freya smiling. Yeah, fuck Meghan. But that was easier thought and said than what their reality really was.

  “Oh my God, I wasn’t sure if that was you two, but here you are, in the flesh,” Meghan’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice was as loud and clear as ever, and it reminded Freya of all the times she’d been in the house with her.

  “Meghan,” Elijah said in a tight
voice but kept Freya close to him.

  Meghan stared at them for a few seconds, and then realization dawned on her face.

  “What the fuck?” Meghan said in a soft but still screechy voice. “Are you two…?” She let that hang in the air, and when Freya and Elijah didn’t deny anything, Meghan snorted and shook her head with a look of disgust on her face. “Is this what you two were doing when I wasn’t at home?” She looked pointedly at Elijah. “Were you fucking her while married to me?” Meghan raised her voice, and Freya noticed several people looking over at them.

  “Keep your damn voice down,” Elijah said and pulled Freya behind him. “And I’d never do that while I was married and to a teenager. You’re sick.”

  Meghan crossed her arms over her chest, glared at them both, and then shook her head again as if she couldn’t believe any of this. “So then how did all this come about with you two?”

  “It’s none of your business.” Freya was the one to speak. She moved away from Elijah, knowing she wasn’t that teenage girl any longer who felt inferior to this woman.

  “Wow, not the shy, timid little thing you were back in the day, are you?” Meghan said and smiled, but it was far from friendly.

  “What Elijah and I do is none of your business. In fact, us breathing hasn’t been your business for over four years, Meghan.”

  Meghan pursed her lips and looked over Freya’s shoulder at Elijah. “Robbing cradles now, Elijah? I didn’t think that was your style.”

  “Robbing graves, Meghan? That is so your style.” Freya pointedly looked at the elderly man Meghan had been sitting with, the one who screamed money. She also shouldn’t have stooped to Meghan’s level, but the bitch had this coming.

  “Excuse me? So because you’re grown now and have Elijah at your back, you think you can speak to me this way?” Meghan scoffed. “If it wasn’t for me staying with you after your dad died, forced to take care of his kid, you would have been homeless.”

  Freya just stared at Meghan, and a part of her, a part that she really didn’t want to rise, couldn’t help but feel sorry for this woman. “I feel very sorry for you, I really do.”

  Meghan’s eyes widened before they narrowed.

  “You’re a lonely woman and always will be. The fact that you look for love in the wrong places, in the places covered in dollar bills, makes me feel so incredibly sad for you, Meghan. One day, you’ll have nothing but the money you so desperately needed in your life surrounding you. You’ll have no one, Meghan, because no one will love you.” Freya turned and looked at Elijah. “I don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready to go.”

  “You uppity little girl,” Meghan ground out. “How dare you speak to me that way, and how dare you just stand by and let this … child—”

  “Meghan, marrying you was the worst mistake I ever made, and staying with you all those years was like a hell all in itself,” Elijah said, this thickness in his voice clear. “And when that divorce was final, I swear the weight lifted off my shoulders, and this freedom filled me. I didn’t think I’d ever have that kind of pleasure fill my life again.”

  Meghan made an outraged gasp, but Freya was too stunned by what Elijah said to pay attention to her.

  “But then I saw Freya again.” He pulled Freya close to him and wrapped his hand possessively around her waist. “And I realized that the greatest feeling wasn’t when I got that divorce from you finalized, but when I realized I loved Freya.”

  And the world turned upside down, the earth opened up, and she knew if Elijah wasn’t holding her, she would’ve fallen right in. The way he sounded told her he spoke the truth.

  “But the past doesn’t matter anymore, Meghan, because I’m looking forward to my future, and that future is with Freya.” And then Elijah turned, and he and Freya walked away from a stuttering Meghan, out of the mansion and into the waiting limo.

  She knew, just knew, at that moment that this was the man she’d be with, that this was the man she wanted to be with. She loved him, and she hadn’t realized how much until this very moment.

  15

  They’d arrived at the cabin in about two hours, and that entire time as the driver took them out of the city and toward isolation, all Freya did was lean against Elijah. But Elijah had loved that she curled into him, and he could wrap his arm around her and just hold her.

  They now stood in the center of the cabin with their bags on the ground, fire already roaring, and both of them staring at each other.

  “Does it scare you that I said I love you?” he asked, not sure how she would react to him mentioning it again. She hadn’t said anything about it on the ride up here, and a part of him worried about that.

  She didn’t answer right away, and instead moved over to the fire. For several seconds, she watched the flames move along the logs, the gown she wore seeming almost black in color because of the shadows. Finally, she turned and faced him. “No, it doesn’t scare me, Elijah, because I am falling in love with you.”

  His heart started beating fast and hard, and all he wanted to do was be with her in every fucking way conceivable. This entire situation was confusing, he admitted that, but Elijah wasn’t going to turn his back on how he felt or what he wanted with Freya.

  He could see them together, her by his side, and he wanted that desperately. The intensity with which he wanted this woman scared him the most.

  Elijah was done being alone, done with the random women who couldn’t fill the void in his heart. Maybe a part of him had separated when he left Meghan, a part that didn’t think he could ever be happy. The truth was, his ex-wife hadn’t made him feel this kind of pleasure deep in his soul the way Freya did. She was everything to him. He knew that with every part of him, and he was going to make sure she knew that, too.

  “Come here, Freya.” His voice was low, hoarse, and there was a touch of dominance in it.

  He might have been a kind of stepparent—sort of—to her all those years ago, but really, she never saw him as that. He’d lived in the house she did, ate breakfast at the same table she did, but she didn’t see him as this parental figure. Maybe a part of her would have liked to, but only because she’d been missing her own dad so much. But even if at some point, at some level, she kind of felt as if this was wrong, a little taboo, and most definitely tested given their background, she couldn’t lie and say that she hadn’t always felt safe around Elijah.

  But after they’d left the event, she’d just leaned against him, let him hold her, and it had felt so right. Being with him felt right. Freya didn’t want to let that go or lose that.

  He was so much older than she was, so much wiser and more experienced. He didn’t look at her as this teenager anymore, as this damaged girl. He was looking at her like he wanted to see her naked and devour her whole. And God, did she want that, especially right now.

  All she could think about was him telling Meghan he loved her. And then she’d admitted she was falling in love with him, too. Each day those feelings became stronger and harder to try to ignore.

  “Come here.”

  All she could focus on was the way his mouth moved as he said those two words.

  She licked her lips and moved that last bit of space it took to almost have their chests brushing together.

  This is crazy.

  But it feels so good.

  He reached out and cupped her waist with one hand and covered one side of her face with the other. The scent of him was intense, intoxicating. He still had on the tux and damn, did he make it look good. His short dark hair was styled like he was ready to tackle the boardroom, and the scent of him, good God, the scent of him, that mixture of cologne and masculinity absolutely drove her insane with lust.

  He held her cheek in a tight, almost painful grip. It was like he was afraid she would turn and leave. But she had no intentions of doing that, not when she felt this life move through her when he touched her.

  “I love you,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  She swallowed, her heart bea
ting hard and almost painfully in her chest. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  He brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek.

  Back and forth, back and forth.

  All Elijah did was look into her eyes. God, his eyes were so green, so clear. She felt herself falling into them, getting lost in the color, in the deepness of them. Freya felt herself leaning forward, felt his warm and sweet wine-smelling breath brush along her lips.

  Here she was, standing in this elegant evening gown, wanting the damn thing ripped off her. They were alone in this gorgeous cabin out in the middle of nowhere. And right now, to her, this felt good. This felt right. She didn’t want to stop this, didn’t care that he used to be her family, technically, or that he was over a decade older than she was.

  Freya didn’t care that if her father was still alive, he might look down on her doing something like this. But as soon as that thought passed through her mind, she knew her father never would have looked down on anything she did. He’d always been so supportive and understanding. He would have been of this, too, as long as she was happy.

  Freya didn’t know if Elijah would kiss her, but she desperately wanted him to. She saw the way he kept looking at her lips, felt the way he kept stroking her cheek with his thumb. When he leaned in, she thought he’d kiss her and end this torment of arousal and need she had burning inside her, but he didn’t.

  Instead, he moved the hand that held her face to the back of her head. He tunneled his fingers into her hair, then tightened his hold on the strands until the pain mixed with her already climbing and repressed pleasure, and then broke free into this explosive tingling sensation along her entire body.

  “A part of me sees this as wrong on some level,” he murmured, staring at her lips. “But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop, Freya. I love you, so fucking much, and I won’t deny it.”