“If that’s tacos, I’ve got to know what’s in the pot. You stirred it a lot and I’m trying to figure out what could possibly go with tacos that needs to be cooking in a pot and stirred so often.” My first thought had been beans or rice, but she’d worked over what was in the pot too much for it to be either.
“Queso,” she replied with a wide grin. “I might not cook much, but I make killer queso. And they’re not just any tacos. They’re baked grouper tacos.”
Right now, I would eat anything she put in front of me if I could just stay near her longer. This was the most peace I’d experienced in what felt like a lifetime.
MAY 26 / 7:40 PM
Ophelia Finlay
I KNEW AFTER the third glass of red wine I was at my limit. The fourth glass had been a dumb decision, but he had been smiling at my animated description of those who believe the earth is flat and it was such a rare thing for this new darker Eli to smile that I felt like I’d conquered the beast every time his lips curled up. It was as if I craved the sight. I was tipsy, but I was positive that if I was completely sober, I’d feel the same way.
Eli’s hand was resting on my upper arm as I reclined back on his chest. We had taken our drinks to the sofa after dinner and continued our conversation about the belief in flat earth and how ludicrous it seemed. Then it had turned into a debate over man walking on the moon and had it actually happened. At some point between his fourth glass of whiskey and my third glass of wine we had turned on the television and where I had left Game of Thrones paused appeared on the screen.
Eli had given me a look as if he’d caught me being naughty before pressing play. I’d had to explain several things to him, but he seemed to be caught up and understanding what was happening. He had stretched out his arm and told me to lay back. I’d done so without question. This was how we’d finished two episodes and the rest of our drinks.
My focus had not been on the show but rather on how good he smelled. How hard his body was and how close his hand rested to my right breast. Lust had reared its head and I knew my breathing was a little quick. Although I was trying to control it and not get too carried away with my imagination. I knew I should call it a night, offer him the guest bedroom since he’d drank too much to drive and it was late, and then get up before I did something stupid. The wine had made this worse and I knew it.
The next episode was about to begin when Eli shifted away from me and I watched him set his glass down. Just the slight distance and space between us disappointed me. I’d been trying to get up, but the actual moving away from him hadn’t been something I was prepared for. Before I could accept that our night was over and this delicious warmth I’d been in the past hour and a half had come to an end he leaned back and resumed his position.
Needy me snuggled right back against him like a damn puppy dog. I should be disgusted with myself, but this felt too good to care. I inhaled deeply and the scent of him made my nipples harden. I was getting lost in my own little sexual fantasy. The wine was to thank for this. Not that it took wine to make me want Eli Hardy. I wanted him without the wine. But the wine had made me clingy and unable to act like I wasn’t wanting to crawl all over him.
“Ophelia.” His voice was deeper and huskier than normal. I shivered a little and squeezed my thighs together. “You keep that up and I’m going to fuck you on this couch.”
I froze. Just for a second. The word “fuck” had startled me as much as it had excited me. No man had ever warned me he was about to fuck me. A normal girl should be offended by that, right? Who wanted to be told they were going to get fucked?
Me.
Apparently, I wanted to be told by Eli Hardy that he was going to fuck me. Because I literally moaned with anticipation and grabbed his shirt in my fist as if I was making sure he didn’t leave and that he followed through with his threat.
He turned his body slowly then moved over me until I was lying flat on my back and he was staring down at me. “Is that what you want?” His voice was hard and demanding. It only made me more crazed. “You want me to fuck you?”