Page 98 of Ominous: Part 1
“Yes,” I answer him. “Make it strong too.”
He smiles over my skin, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against his hard body. I don’t feel like throwing up. I don’t want to crawl out of my own skin. There’s an irritation in the way every inch of my exposed flesh is against his, and a reflex of wanting to pull away, but I can handle it.
Even better, as he locks his hands over his forearms, keeping me close, I realize I’m more than handling it. After a few seconds of adjusting…I like it.
He feels safe and thrilling all at once. Danger wrapped in my shelter, I don’t understand how he can be both something I want to run from, and to.
“You got it,” he says, this time against the side of my face before he kisses me softly, then releases me. “Get in. I’ll be back.”
I feel a little unsteady without his touch, but instead of turning around to take in every inch of him, to see if those bruises he had are still there, if new ones have appeared, I jump into the deep end, needing to breathe.
“How long have you lived here?”I sip from the straw in my clear plastic cup, a little blue umbrella stuck in among the ice and coconut rum with pineapple juice. It’s my second drink, and my head feels loose, my body too. I smile as I finish it, hitting ice and slurping up every drop of syrupy goodness I can. Straightening, I shift a little on the smooth stone bench, the water up to my waist. Eli is beside me, turned the opposite way, his back leaning against the stone table built into the pool.
He has a joint between his fingers, and there’s an ashtray a few inches from my empty drink.
I watch as he brings the weed to his lips, inhaling with his eyes on me. They’re brighter, his irises, more blazing emerald, and less forest green. We’ve been out here an hour, and I see the faintest hint of freckles under his eyes, along his cheekbones. His skin is already tan, the olive complexion giving way to a color I probably won’t ever achieve, but I spent years in pools, jumping the waves in the ocean, and I’ve got a good base, at least the parts of myself the sun touches, stark tan lines along the rest of me I’m not quite ready to let him see yet.
Eli smiles as he exhales, half a foot between us, and I watch the smoke pour through his teeth, sensual in a wicked way.
He props his elbows against the table, and I can’t help it. I drop my gaze to the flex of his triceps, the veins in his forearms, the sculpted muscles of his shoulders, even the way his shoulder blades shift with the movement.
Eli has a sexy back, but then again, everything about him is just so damn attractive to me, I’m not sure I could pick out a flaw even if it was screaming at me.
As it is, I don’t dare look at his chest, his abs, the tattoo near the V of his hips, or his white swimming trunks. I can’t focus when I do, especially with the way the fading bruises lend him some kind of violent sex appeal he doesn’t need.
There doesn’t appear to be any fresh bruises, and it felt like relief, noting it, even though I think he can take care of himself.
Physically, at least.
“My whole life.”
My smile feels lazy as he reflects the same expression back. “What a charmed life.”
He tilts his head. “It is right now.”
I pedal my feet in the water, my toes skimming over the cement bottom. “Is it?”
His eyes rake over my frame, and I lock one ankle over the other in an effort to keep my thighs together because thislookhe’s giving me makes me feel more exposed than I really am. “Yes.”
“And why is that?”
His joint is pinched between his thumb and index finger, dangling there with his elbows still propped on the table, the water much lower on his body, giving me a glimpse of the thick, heavy tattoo, and…eyes up.
I flex my fingers around the thin plastic of my empty cup, hearing it crinkle.
“If I didn’t live here, I might have never met you, and I might have never gotten you to come over.”
I drop my mouth open, feigning offense. “You think I’m here because you have a nice house?”
He shrugs, and I see the sweat slick on his skin from the sun beating down over both of us, the day hot for late September. But it is North Carolina. These things happen with the weather.
“Aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes, and the words are there. Right on the tip of my tongue, I’m not sure if I’ve always said them so much or if subconsciously, I want what he promised me.What I gave him.“Shut…” I drag it out, but promptly take my own half-worded advice and snap my mouth closed, pressing my lips together and squeezing my cup so hard I feel the plastic give way, the sharpness of the edge pressing into the underside of my finger, melted ice trickling out against my skin.
He studies me a moment, eyes sparking with amusement, then leans in toward me. I catch the scent of marijuana and damn cotton candy. His eyes lock on mine, and I trace the circle of black around his irises with my own gaze.
“What was that?” he asks quietly, barely audible over the rush of the manmade waterfall and the hum of the pool pump.
