Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

I blink. He’s never been so needy before. So…insecure.

This is not the confident, almost cocky, boyfriend I adore.

“This isn’t like you, Eli.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes softening. “But I want to know you’re in this for real. I need to know you’re really stayin’. C’mon, Olivia, think about how perfect it would be. You can write. I can cook. Billy will be happy. And you won’t have to worry about payin’ rent. Let me give this to you. Please. It’ll lend you some breathing time to get back on your feet.”

C’mon, Olivia. Eli says it exactly like Ted used to.

And funny Eli mentions breathing time when really, he’s giving me an ultimatum. The opposite of this supposed freedom I’d have living with him.

I know this feeling. I felt it when Ted got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

A noose, tightening around my neck.

“The only thing I want is you,” I whisper, my pulse beginning to race. “Please don’t do this, Eli. Please don’t tell me you want to tie me down after I’ve just won my freedom.”

His hazel eyes go wide. “I’m not trying to tie you down. I’m trying to give you the freedom to write without worrying about money.”

“No. You’re trying to trap me by forcing me to make a decision before I’m ready.”

“I don’t get it.” He bends his neck. Our faces are inches apart. “Why aren’t you ready? You told me you loved me.”

“Because I’m new to this!” I burst out. “This city, this career, this life. I want more time to explore it. I need to try on different things before I commit to moving in with someone. Hell, Eli, I ended a three year relationship less than a month ago.”

He blinks rapidly, jerking back. Like I hit him.

“So you want to try on different people?”

“No,” I bite out. Tugging a hand through my hair, I sigh. “You’re missing the point, Elijah. I’m begging you. Please don’t give me this ultimatum. I want to be with you, but I need to take things slow. Why rush when we have the rest of our lives to explore this beautiful thing we just started?”

He stares at me for a second. Then he holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, baby. But I need to know you’re mine. With everything going on at work—just…” His voice breaks. He clears his throat. “Bein’ with you is the only thing that makes me feel better, all right?”

My pulse skips a beat—my head throbs—as the realization hits me.

“Oh my God,” I say, leaning against the vanity to steady myself.

“What?”

“You’re not asking me to move in because you love me. You’re asking me because you don’t want to be alone.” Tears flood my eyes. “Jesus, Eli this has nothing to do with me, does it?”

A flush of red creeps up Eli’s neck and spreads across his cheeks. His eyes flash with anger.

“That’s not true,” he says. “You can’t tell me I don’t adore you.”

My throat is so tight it makes my entire head hurt.

“Of course you adore me. But I’ve asked you so many times to talk about what happened at The Jam. You always blow me off and start talking about my books, or you start touching me, and we—well. You know. Which makes me feel like maybe you’ve been using me as a distraction or something.”

“No,” he says, voice shaking, clearly backtracking. “You’re so much more than that, Olivia.”

A heavy sadness settles on me as I search his eyes. He has the panicked look of a cornered animal.

“You’re right.” My voice trembles. “I did mean more to you than that. But now you’re making me feel used. You’re making me feel cheap. I think you know that what you’re doing right now is wrong. You’re doing it anyway, though, because you don’t believe me when I say I am going to stay. Why don’t you trust me?”

Eli looks at me for a long minute.

“I don’t trust you because I realized I know next to nothing about your life in New York,” he replies. He sets the ring on the counter beside the sink. I reach over and close the box. “Got me thinking that the guy who bought you that thing is the real deal, while I’m just some idiot you wanted to fuck.”

His words are like a punch to the gut. I struggle to breathe. I can’t believe it’s Eli who’s saying these things. The man whose kindness and faith in me changed my life for the better in so many ways.

“That is not at all how I think of you,” I manage. “What do you want to know about my life in New York? I’ll tell you anything.”

He meets my eyes. “The only thing I want to know is whether or not you’ll move in with me.”