If I Can't Have You - Page 38

“Where the hell are you going?” By the tone in Whit’s voice I can tell she’s wearing her WTF face, where every feature is smooshed together and her nose is wrinkled.

I wave her off and don’t turn around. “For a walk!”

And I don’t wait for either one of them to follow either. I keep walking straight, heading to the beach.

With my knees to my chest, I sit in the sand a few feet away from the navy waters. The waves are choppy today. Choppy and restless. That’s exactly how I feel inside choppy.

Elliot comes up behind me and plops down beside me. I know it’s him. I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s the one next to me. “Where’s Whit?” I inquire, not taking my eyes off the crashing waves.

“Talking to some guy.”

I glare at Elliot. “Why do you insist on following me around like some lost puppy?”

“Why do you insist on avoiding me on most occasions?” he counters.

“I don’t know,” I huff. “Maybe because you remind me too much of your brother.”

Elliot scoffs, “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not my brother.”

I roll my eyes. “Right.”

Elliot scoots closer to me and stares at me. He’s undressing me with his eyes and surprising warmth singes the nerve endings in my fingertips. Don’t touch me. I’m a key in a socket. I’ll spark.

His fingers curl, inching closer to mine.

No.No.No. He’s too close. Way too close. It’s making me nervous. It’s driving me crazy. I drop my gaze, focusing on his fingers as they glide through the sand, closer to mine.

Fidgeting, I stand and start pacing. Elliot’s eyes never leave me. I feel the electric blue irises touching my skin. They’re burning me. Branding my flesh.

“What’s up with you?” Elliot leans back onto the sand, propped up by his elbows. “You’re acting like a whack-job.”

I’m not a whack-job. I’m confused. So very, very confused. Co

nfused about my feelings for Elliot. My tense situation with his brother. My estranged ex-friend who has been bawling her eyes out. And there’s so much more that I can’t even begin to sort out in my head right now.

“Would you stop pacing?” Elliot mutters revealing a seductive grin. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“Then stop watching me.”

Within seconds he’s off the ground and gripping my shoulders, halting me mid-pace. I hesitate, refusing to meet his gaze, but when I finally do peer into his puddles of blue they burn into my pair of emerald eyes. “Why do you always try to fight me?” His eyes wander all over my face. He’s trying to read me. He’s trying to find the answer that I’m unable to give him. Then he tucks a piece of my loose hair behind my ear. “This will be a lot more fun if you quit resisting and just relax.”

Relax. Hell no. Relaxing is not an option for me. Especially now. Not in a moment like this.

Elliot’s strong hands slide up my chest and rest on both sides of my cheeks.

I’m panting and frantic and before I can shove him away he crushes his mouth to mine. His warm, inviting lips make my mouth tingle and go numb. Then our mouth’s part and well, there’s tongue.

A lot of tongue.

Elliot is a great kisser—no—not just great. Damn near spectacular. His tongue brushes against mine. Slowly, gracefully, and erotically. It’s like watching a ballet dancer on stage, twirling around on her toes in front of a packed auditorium. Each one of her movements is delicate yet beautiful.

I’m sick with emotion. Twisted with pleasure. Lost in a moment, wrapped up in a haze of racing hearts, passionate kisses, and raspy breaths. As our kissing deepens, Elliot moves one hand into my hair and curls a strand around his fingertip while the other one moves down clutching the side of my waist. It’s almost like they have a mind of their own.

Elliot moans in pleasure, his mouth pressed firmly against mine and I can feel the want in him. It’s oozing out of him spilling onto me and filling me up with a burning desire I’ve never had before. He presses against me, a bulge in his pants, and his pelvis thrusts into my thigh.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. His kisses. His touch. Everything about Elliot rocks my world. He’s even a better kisser than Drake.

Oh, shit. Drake.

Tags: Lauren Hammond Romance
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