Ropes and Lace | MM Romance

Chapter 8 - Persuade Me

@   Chlo: [I'm outside, hottie.]

I tiptoe toward the entrance, cautious not to trip over anything and make as little noise as possible. I checked on Elliot ten minutes ago and he was still asleep, so I don't want to disturb his condition so he can rest and recover soon. I open the door with extreme stealth and glance out into the hallway of the luxurious building, where Chloe is in her wonderful splendor, analyzing me with translucent suspicion and a hint of amusement in the curve of her lips painted an intense red, a gym bag dangling from one of her shoulders.

"Angel's Heaven?" She snorts, raising one of her impeccable eyebrows and I laugh because I knew she would find the name of the skyscraper ridiculous, too. "And people call me excessive."

"Thanks, Chlo," I comment when she hands me the luggage and I'm surprised at how much it weighs. "What the hell did you put in here, half my house?"

"Hey, better to have too much than too little, right? Besides, who the fuck is this guy, Ash?" She whispers in disbelief, her eyes like saucers. "Can he seriously make that much money selling pictures and videos of his naked ass on OnlyFans? Because if so, I'm in. I want some of this, too."

"Oh, God." I groan, embarrassed and mortified, pinching the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb. "I can't reveal his personal information to you, Chlo. I'm already putting my butt in the line of fire for simply giving you his address. "

"What else could you do, hottie? From the scant details you gave me, I could tell he didn't give you time to get your act together, didn't warn you that you'd be stuck in this tower like the giant, dick-wearing version of Rapunzel. Were you going to stay in the same clothes all three days? In the same underwear?" She grimaces with disgust and I mimic her, because that'd be really gross.

"Thanks again, Chlo. I owe you one," she smiles, puffing out her bust proudly and I don't have to be psychic to deduce that she'll be charging interest. The price I'll have to pay for this favor is something I'm not thrilled to assess, so I divert the talk to a safe topic. "And Spaghetti?"

"Don't worry about that cutie. I left her in my bed and with The Witcher playing on Netflix, because one of the conditions for her to remain my friend is that she has to fall in love with Henry Cavill too or this relationship is doomed," we chuckle with complicity and mischief. Chlo and I are in several of the actor's fan groups on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. We're not obsessed, we're just very dedicated.

"Have you made her watch Superman yet?" I ask excitedly.

"Obviously," she exclaims, flicking me in the stomach with the back of her hand, her pointed nails with different polishes and designs. "It was the first on the list and while it's not the most optimal of his performances, it would be a sin to miss such a monument of nature in that skintight suit."

"Henry Cavill is so fucking hot." I agree and we sigh in harmony like a couple of hormone-overloaded teenagers, drooling over idols just out of our reach. But then I squeal in fright and Chloe chokes on her own saliva as a voice behind me startles us, causing even the tiniest hair on my skin to stand on end, chills to run down my spine, and my lungs to stop for a millisecond.

"Ah, indeed he is," Elliot materializes out of nowhere, leaning serenely against a wall with his arms folded across his chest. His hair is a mess of tangled locks, but he looks better than he did a couple of hours ago, with a slight crimson color painting his sharp cheeks and his irises as green as fresh grass alert, looking at us mischievously and conspiratorially. "I have a weakness for big, strong men," those piercing eyes bore into me; they examine me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes with a slowness bordering on sensual and I shudder, but I don't allow myself to feed my hope with his statement, because he's certainly applying his mind games again, right?