Oh, Dakota.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Dakota Aniston

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Crisp sheet roll around me.  I wake to the feeling of a soft breeze against my back, and there are a couple of moments where I don’t remember where I am.

Then, I do. And for a minute, I don’t want to move. I feel a secret thrill waking up in Elijah’s room. The sheets smell of him, musky and dark, and I curl myself deeper into the covers.

I’m alone in his bed, though. Opening my eyes, I drag my gaze over to his open bedroom door. There was murmuring, and I instantly recognize the voices as Elijah and his father.

Wait, his father? Does his dad now I’m here? And if he does, does he know I’m naked?

The murmuring stops and I hear Elijah’s footsteps probing closer. After a couple of long seconds, Elijah stands in his doorway, his one arm pressed to the wall beside him. Another few moments pass with just us staring at one another, as though it’s a silent agreement of what really happened last night.

I’ve slept with Elijah Astor.

His dark hair is messy and tousled and his upper torso is bare, for he’s only in a pair of black sweatpants, low on his hips. I’m momentarily dazed by his physique, lean and muscular. Right below his navel, down toward his right hip is a hickey I left, and staring at it makes my skin turn scarlet knowing my mouth has been there.

I quickly snap my eyes up to his. “Uh, hi.” I mumble, awkwardly. What do I say now? Thanks for last night? You were great? Even though that statement is true, I’m not about to say it. Elijah Astor is undeniably fabulous in bed, but I can’t voice that to him. That’s just inappropriate. So, instead, I say, “Were you up early?”

He nods solemnly. “My dad needed my help with something.”

“Oh?” I nod slowly, rolling my lips together. I sit up slowly, taking the sheets with me. “Your dad’s home.”

“Well, he does live here.”

My eyebrows rise at that one. This is beyond awkward, but I have no idea why. It’s like I’m expecting something, but then not expecting anything at all. And to top it all off, Elijah seems to be in a bad mood.

“Okay…” I let my voice trail off, moving my gaze around his room once before back up to his eyes. “Did he happen to, by any chance, see that?” I point to the purple love mark over Elijah’s hip. Elijah’s eyes move down my arm, past my finger and over to the hickey, before back up to me.

“I don’t think so.” He shrugs carelessly, strutting into his room and clicking the door shut behind him. “Who cares?”

Who cares? Who cares?! I care. Why is he being so calm? We slept together last night, and he seems anything but happy or glad about it. Does he regret it?

My shoulders fall, and I let out a lasting sigh. My body is sore, which is only a reminder of what we did. Maybe it was a bad idea initiating it by kissing him. But, it was the only thing I could think to do. After seeing Dave last night, up close, for the first time in so long, the first thing I thought of was Elijah.

I wanted to be close to him. I didn’t want to worry about Dave; I wanted to talk with Elijah. I wanted to tell him everything, confined in him, but I ended up kissing him. And once I started, I didn’t want to stop.

As he kissed me back, as his fingers touched every inch of my skin, I wanted him closer and closer.

And now I regret it. He’s hardly even looking at me.

My stomach is turning over, sending bile up my throat. I feel as though my blood is on fire.

“Okay, then.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes at Elijah’s back. “I’m going to go.” I say lowly, slowly sliding off his bed, hearing it creak in the silent room.