"As the day is long and the sky is blue, I find myself hopelessly in love with you."
When a fateful stalled elevator brings an intoxicating stranger into the life of Doctor Elliot Kingsley, there is scarce little he can do to stay away from her. Eve...
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Even when I wake up the next morning, the reminiscent feeling of Elliot's lips on mine makes my heart race, my face heat up and my mouth to curve into a smile. reaching up, I touch the tips of my fingers to my lips, for whatever reason people do that and I have to suffocate myself with a pillow to muffle my squeal.
The moment I close my eyes, I can imagine myself standing in the middle of my room next to Elliot, his hands on my face and his lips of mine.
As my hands grabbed his shirt, mostly to steady myself, but also because I wanted to bask in the warmth that radiated off of him, comforting, exhilarating, heart-racing, I melted into him.
Elliot kissed purposefully, like he meant to be doing exactly what he was doing, exactly the way he was doing it. He kissed slow and easy, soft, but firm, his lips pressing against mine, moving against mine, like he had all the time in the world, but even so, he didn't want to lose a second of the right now.
As our lips parted, Elliot gently pressed his lips to mine again, for a second. He stood up straighter, stepping to his full height, making us stand closer.
"Aura," he breathed out.
Moving my hands from the front of his shirt to his arms, I gripped his sleeves, his arms.
Elliot's hands left my face, moving over my shoulders, down my arms, until he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer.
I angled my head.
He dipped his head and kissed me again.
He kissed my lips, my cheek, my nose and my lips again, until I couldn't help, but giggle.
It made him laugh.
Standing that close, pressed up against him, I could feel his laugh, reverberating through him, vibrating through him to me and I wanted him to laugh again.
Pushing myself up on my toes, I gently pressed my lips to his.
When we parted, Elliot was searching my eyes. He was smiling.
He brushed his fingers against my cheek. "I'm going to go now," he whispered to me.
I nodded to him. "Okay."
Elliot lowered his head and pressed his lips to my cheek and whispered something I didn't hear.
"I do look forward to doing that again," he whispered, distinctly.
I nodded.
I released my grip on him.
He smiled.
And he was gone.
And today, as I look at the spot where we stood yesterday, I know there's a blush creeping up my neck. I'm not sure it goes away even when I go down for breakfast.
* * *
"How does the girl who avidly consumes serial killer material stay away from horror movies?" Elliot questions as we eat ice cream at a homemade frozen custard shop perched at the top of one of the hills that gave Whitfield Hills its name.
