Page 47 of Stolen Voices
Twenty minutes of Eli driving carefully through the streets of downtown Los Angeles, we pull up to the curb of a white building with a red and blue neon sign overhead.
“A sandwich shop?” I read, looking over at Eli, who has a wide smile on his face.
“Not just any sandwich shop. This place has the best French dip sandwich and pie in LA. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.” He looks at the white building in wonder. Nostalgia swirls in his eyes, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.
This place means something to him. My chest fills with warmth at the thought of him sharing a sliver of himself with me.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
At my words, Eli’s lips curve up in acknowledgement at my slowly building trust in him.
“Shit.”
My heart jumps at his groaned curse. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just realized we need to disguise you before we go in.”
“Oh.” My lips part on a perfect O as my heart rate steadies and a deep ache builds in my chest.
Such a simple act, but when he finds a way to take care of me and put my safety first, it’s like he’s taking a sledgehammer to my resolve, breaking my fortified walls until they are dust.
“All I have is a baseball hat in the glove compartment. Will that work?” The muscles in his forehead crease in concern.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
He leans across the center console and reaches into the glove compartment. My eyes close as his rich woodsy cologne fills my nose, and takes me to places I’ve only dreamed of going with him. My thighs clench, and my clit pulses at his nearness.
In a flash, his body heat is gone, and my eyes open to him placing the blue Evaders’ hat in my lap. Pushing away salacious thoughts of my very off-limits agent, I wrap my hands around my long hair and twist it into a bun at the nape of my neck. I let a few strands fall around my face before placing the hat on my head.
“How do I look?” I turn to Eli.
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and a look of what I can only describe as desire flashes in his eyes. The hazel-brown spot in his left eye glints, and my nipples turn to diamonds at the flash.
Eli clears his throat and grunts. “Perfect.” His voice is scratchy and rough.
I can’t stop from thinking if that’s how he would sound if he were inside me.
The car gets ten degrees hotter as we stare at each other. I need to get out of here before I do something stupid—like straddle his lap, place my hands in his hair, and kiss him.
Don’t go there, Callie.
I nod and reach for the door handle. Eli’s warm hand lands on my leg, stopping me. Heat pools between my thighs at his palm’s nearness.
“Let me get your door. Can you stay put?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Good girl.”
Oh, fuck me now.
Why does he have to say “good girl” like that? It’s like he’s purposefully trying to turn me into a puddle of need, ready to beg for him to touch me—something I know he won’t do, no matter how much I plead.
My gaze stays glued to Eli’s ass as he gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side, where I’m obediently waiting for him. He opens the door and extends his hand for me to take.
Bracing myself for the inevitable fire that rocks through me every time he touches me, I place my palm in his. I sway on my feet as he drops my hand and places his palm on the small of my back, leading me into the restaurant.
Side by side, we make our way towards the line of people preparing to order. My eyes eat up the dining room in amazement. Sawdust covers the floors of the open-seating dining room, loaded with people eating, talking, and laughing around wood tables and stools. The place smells old but not offensively. It’s more like vintage nostalgia, memories, and the most delicious, mouth-watering food I’ve ever smelled.
