Page 28 of Insatiable Hunger

His scent fills the small space; chlorine from the pool and a cologne that’s heavy on sandalwood—a potent combination that has no business being as alluring as it is. Being in Elias’s vicinity is almost as intoxicating as the scotch I’ve been drinking all evening.

Every once in a while, I’ll catch him glancing over at me from the corner of my eye, but the moment I turn my head to look over at him, it’s eyes straight ahead. The tension in the room is still as thick as it was during dinner, but it’s as if it shifted somehow. It’s clawing at my throat. I’m suffocating in it.

By the time we’re about halfway through with the movie, I can’t take it anymore. Downing the rest of my scotch, it’s now or never.

Setting the empty glass onto the coffee table, I shift in my spot so I’m facing Elias. “We need to talk,” I state, my tone coming out much more stern than I mean it to.

He drags his gaze to me. “Uh, okay. What’s up?”

“About last night.”

Even in the dark, I can distinctly tell when he switches on brat mode, and I already know whatever is about to come out of his mouth is going to piss me off. “Which part?” he asks dryly. “The part where you spanked me in the parking lot like a maniac? Or maybe you want to talk about the part where you very rudely interrupted my nightcap with Jordan outside. Or is it the part where you cornered me in my own bedroom while my mother—yourwife—was down the hall and told me I couldn’t fuck him, like you have any sort of say in the matter? Which part, Zeke?”

Running a hand over my mouth and through my beard, I clench my jaw, tryingveryhard to not react. There’s a reason I wanted to talk to him, and it wasn’t to argue. “The first one,” I say through gritted teeth.

Elias turns, tugging his legs up to his chest. “Okay. I’m listening.”

Dragging in a deep breath, I realize this is much harder to get out than I thought it would be. Apparently, admitting my fault is a challenge for me. “I am sorry, Elias. That was horribly inappropriate, and it never, ever should’ve happened. I should’ve never put you in that situation. I had no right.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment before muttering, “Wow. That isn’t at all what I thought you were going to say.”

My brows pinch together. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“I… don’t know. But it wasn’t that.”

“Well, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed you to know I’m sorry. It was wrong.”

Bringing the can to his mouth, he finishes off the rest of his Truly, setting the empty can on the table before adjusting so his legs are tucked under himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why have you never, even once, said anything about the night we met?”

Now it’s my turn to be caught off guard by a question. My heart is hammering inside my chest as I recount the night he’s asking about. Any time it crosses my mind, the reaction is, without fail, always visceral.

“I don’t really have a straightforward answer for that,” I admit honestly. “When I first realized the connection, I was too stunned to say anything. And when I tried, you shut me down. Then after everything you said at the anniversary dinner last year, I guess I thought keeping my distance and not saying anything was the better of the options. Thought that maybe you would rather not address it again.”

A puzzled expression sits on his face, and his lips part like he wants to say something but decides against it. After a moment, he sighs, shaking his head. “For a while, I had convinced myself that maybe you didn’t remember me. But then the rehearsal dinner happened…” He’s glancing off to the side as he talks. The way his hands are resting in his lap, he looks like he’s about to pray for his sins at the altar. With his words barely above a whisper, he adds, “I thought that maybe that night wasn’t as ingrained in your memory as it was mine. It didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me, and it was easy to ignore. To forget.”

My body is coiled tight with tension, a lump lodging itself in my throat as the blood roars in my ears. Memories of heated conversations in the dark and messy collisions of lips and limbs flash through my mind, reminding me of everything we should forget.

“Elias, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Gaze colliding with mine, he swallows hard. It feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room as we watch each other, not moving, not saying anything. Finally, with the shake of his head, he stands suddenly.

“I have to go.”

That’s it. That’s all he gives me.

“What? Why?” Raising from the couch, I follow after him as he blows through the door to leave the media room. “Elias, will you stop for a second?”

“No!”

Goddamnit.“We were not done having a conversation, Elias. You can’t just walk away.”

“Yes, I can.” He rounds the corner, shuffling through the kitchen. All the lights are off and the sun has long since set. The only illumination comes from the under-cabinet lights.

Speeding up, I wrap a hand around his upper arm just as he steps onto the stairs. “Elias! Will you fucking stop?”

---