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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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I awoke in the arms of Elijah. His grip was tight, but not tight enough for me to be uncomfortable. It was the perfect amount tightness so I felt safe but not claustrophobic.
I stirred in his arms, trying to get a glimpse of where we were.
"Shh, amore, go back to sleep." He whispered into my hair after placing a soft kiss on top of my head.
He soon opened a door, sitting me down on the bed shortly after. I looked around the room, recognising to be one of my family's houses.
We'd spent very little time in this house during my childhood. My father said LA was to dangerous to stay in for a long period of time.
The city is too open to be able to do anything without others knowing, meaning we spent most of our time moving between countries in Europe and South America.
So this house we were inhabiting right now wasn't unfamiliar but it wasn't homely and comforting either.
He slipped of his suit jacket, laying it over the back of a chair, before sitting himself next to me.
He brought with him warmth. Not physically warmth, but a different kind. He made me feel safe with no good reason and he made me smile even in the darkest of times.
Whenever he looked at me, his eyes were fully of hope, desire and what I can only presume was love.
The thought of love scared me drastically. I don't exactly know why, but it did. I think it's because when you love someone, you want to give them your whole self. The good, the bad, the uncertain.
Everything.
I find myself wanting to give him everything. I want to tell him everything. I want to show him why I am the way I am. But at the same time, If I told him, I think he wouldn't want me anymore.
As much as he says he'll never leave, and as much as his words were always seemed to be filled with truth, I still believed that he wouldn't be able to look at me the same.
I believed that he wouldn't be able to see past what I truly was: A damaged monster.
And that's what scares me about love. Not the commitment. Not the fact that the other person holds your heart in their hand and can crush it at any given second. Not the fact that you are so vulnerable it could kill you in an instant.
What scares me about love is myself. It's the fact I wouldn't be able to handle it. I can't fathom the thought of someone wanting me, and only me.
