crave | 16+

XIII

ELIJAH

I MAKE MY WAY out of the doors. The same Josephine exited. The same my little brother did. When I make it out there, I hear their voices a little further from the doors. At first, I don't care about making my presence known until I hear the desperate plea in my brother's voice.

"It's so pathetic. For 4 years I've been watching you and Elijah have some kind of thing going, and for 4 years I've waited for you to just peek at me and see how much I hold you dear. I could treat you so well, angel," my little brother tells Josephine. The muscle in my jaw jumps. Bastard. Their conversation continues like that until I hear her voice stop the gravel my brother is walking on from making more sounds.

"Do you hate me?" she asks him. I wait in anticipation for what my brother will reply, and what it will do to her rejecting him.

"I could never hate you, angel."

When I hear the sound of someone walking on the gravel again, my first instinct is to hide. Then I remember who I am. My brother sees me standing there at the entrance of the small garden maze, with the dock inside of it. He halts a bit when he sees me, but only nods his head and continues walking. Hate is all I can register on his face, but he'll get over it. I know he will.

I walk into the maze and find Josephine with her back turned to me as she stares out into the lake. I believe she knows she isn't alone anymore because she turns around and when her eyes lock with mine she looks so out of breath. I drink her in. I haven't given Stefan enough credit for the dress he made her. Stefan Dupont has been my tailor ever since I built Christ Enterprises and has never once let me down.

But after seeing the gown he made her? I make a mental note which reads, give Stefan a raise. No words are shared between us as both of us take one another's presence in, but we both are talking to each other without words. Her speaking to me with her shallow breaths, her fists held clenched at her sides and my jaw clenched.

Aphrodite would kneel in her presence.

I start taking steps toward her which only seems to make her breath so much more shallow. I try my best not to smile at her attempt at looking contained. Every person with eyes could see the emotion dripping from her.

I stop right in front of her looking down at her. She may be five-eight but she still has to crane her neck to meet my eyes. "You look stunning," I tell her. She inhales a sharp breath averting her gaze for a second. I pinch her jaw with my thumb- & index finger forcing her eyes to meet mine again. "But that dress does you no justice. It isn't half as breathtaking as you are, darling."

She sighs, closing her eyes. "This is cruel."

The sides of my lips twitch. "What is?" I ask, already having an idea.

She takes a step back, breaking free of my hold on her, before lifting her gown to make sure she doesn't step in it. I look down seeing her wear the Red Bottoms I'd bought for her the morning we went to Madison Avenue. A smile makes its way to my lips. I follow her trail further down the dock.

"What is, Josephine?" I call out.

"You! This!" she finally snaps, throwing her arms in the air. She takes a few breaths as if she's about to cry. But she doesn't. "You and your brothers, I— You're all too much. It feels like I can't breathe whenever one of you comes near me..." she gasps. As if she realises what she's said she brings her hand to her mouth.

"Elijah, I'm sorry I didn't mean—"

"What did you just say?" I cut her off, the sound of my name coming from her lips igniting something in me. I've heard her say it before, once but never has she said it to my face. Realisation smacks her across the face and even in the dark I see her cheeks set aflame. When she doesn't repeat my name, I walk toward her and grab her face in my hand.

"What did you say?"

Her bottom lip gets stuck between her teeth and I instantly feel the strain against my pants.

"I said your name," she whispers.

I nod my head inching closer to her. "Say it again," I tell her fully expecting her to, but she shakes her head.

"Me saying your name shouldn't mean anything. All your employees call you by your first name," she says in a small voice. Lust thickens the air, when I realise how close our lips are.

"I'll kill anyone who says it again. I only care about you saying it," I say against her mouth. Her mouth falls open and I catch her eyes draping shut again.

"I can't kiss you," she whispers.

"Says who?"

She laughs. "You're my boss."

"You seem to be forgetting the perks that follow when you're boss," I remind her. She doesn't say anything for a while and then I decide to use one of my hidden cards. "Is it because you have feelings for Zakaria?"

She looks up at me, our eyes meeting. "Foul play, Mr—"

"Call me Mr. Christ one more time. I fucking dare you, Josephine."

She sighs and leans her head against my chest in defiance. I know she wants me; I can almost smell it on her. Why she won't let herself have me, I don't know.

"You're a famous, content, good-looking man," she says against my chest. "Every woman would fawn at the chance of being with you."

I grab her chin again and get so close to her face that we almost share the same breath. "I'm well aware of that fact, Josephine, but all those women aren't you. I've been admiring you ever since you stepped into my office 4 years ago babbling about how I murdered my father. It's you I want. Not everyone else."

She opens her mouth, her breath hitching probably to argue about it again but I speak before she has the chance to. "When are you going to stop denying yourself what's so rightfully yours?"

Her eyes go wide and if I weren't mistaken I'd say they fill with tears. "Mine?" she asks in a gasp.

"I am yours. I have always been yours and deep down I believe you're aware."

She cusses under her breath, before wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me down. Our lips meet in a hasty kiss as if she's wanting to get it over with before she can collect her thoughts and regret it. I don't waste a second. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me, not being able to get enough of her.

My tongue licks the seam of her lips, wanting her to open her mouth and when she does, fireworks erupt. Our tongues dance against each other. A sound hacks from her throat, which only makes the bulge in my pants grow ten times more. My fingers find the roots of her hair and I pull separating our lips. She looks at me with a drunk smile, gasping for air.

I inch closer to her face, making sure she understands my words. "I may have been yours, but now you're mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine to touch, mine to look at. Do you understand?" I ask.

"Y-yes," she replies in a slight stutter.

"Yes, what?"

She looks between my eyes and lips, before saying, "Yes, Elijah."

A satisfied smirk plasters all over my face. "Good girl," I praise. She makes a sound that sounds like a whimper. I connect our lips again, ravaging her sweet body with my hands. Yet, there's a voice in my head taunting me.

You're a liar. When she learns the things you'd do to protect your business she'll hate you forever.

No.

She'll run away from you. And she'll never look back.

. . . 
I hope this is enough slow burn