The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,2
It’s a compliment, but it washes over me like foreplay, and I shiver.
When I don't respond, Eli adds,” I’ve missed you.”
My heart races in my chest, and for some reason, I feel nervous. I want this so badly. I want Eli so much it hurts. I can feel it all over my body like acupuncture needles, and part of me thinks if he doesn't touch me soon I might die. But there's another part of me, too, and it’s screaming like a mental patient in a locked room.
Eli’s hand begins to slide up my leg, finding its way beneath my skirt, and my muscles tighten under his grasp. He squeezes my thigh, and it feels so very good. I remember how he would squeeze every inch of me he could get his hands on, and I’d smile, knowing he was about to ravage me. Eli always knew how to take control, and I used to allow myself to melt beneath his touch. I became ice cream in the palm of his hand, and took the utmost pleasure in allowing him to lick me as I melted between his fingers.
Just thinking about it makes me feel weak. My mind stays in that place as Eli leans forward and kisses me. He touches his lips to mine with the softness of a rose petal at first, but things turn hotter when our tongues touch. He’s always had a thing for my tongue, and when I slip it into his mouth, it pushes him over the edge. Eli presses himself against me, forcing me back into the couch cushion before moaning into my mouth.
I can tell how much he wants me. I can feel it in his erection and in the heat wafting off of him. He needs this. I need it, too.
Is this the night?
Eli kisses me while he slides his hand further up my thigh, squeezing the meat on my leg along the way, and when he reaches my panties, he doesn't pause. He presses the tip of his finger into me, and an explosion of ecstasy fires in all directions. Memories of how good this used to feel flood my mind. I know how good Eli is, how strong he is, how desirable he is. I know how I used to want him. I know how much other women want him. I know the woman who wanted him. I know he wanted her, too. I know he gave himself to her the same way he’s trying to give himself to me right now.
My mind suddenly feels like I've hit the eject button in a fighter jet, and I'm catapulted out into the cold, pressurized sky. I shoot up and away from the safety of my plane, and now I’m out in the open, the wind whipping around me, and I’m terrified as my body begins to fall. The clouds display what the hotel room must've looked like when Eli and Amber Hart fucked while away at a conference.
“Don't fucking touch me!” I shout as I reach down and smack Eli’s hand away. He jumps back, shocked at how fast everything just changed. I’m shocked, too, because before I know what’s happening, I have tears streaming down my face.
“Jesus, Demi,” he says, breathing hard. I’m not sure if it’s from being hot and heavy or if he was truly startled by my reaction. My brain doesn't care, because all I can think about is how he must've breathed hard while he laid himself between her legs in that hotel.
“How dare you touch me,” I say, and my voice doesn't sound like my own. It’s tighter, harsher. I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
“Demi, I’m sorry,” Eli begins for the millionth time. “I wasn't trying to rush you. I just thought— ”
“You just thought what?” I snap. “That you could touch me with the same hands you touched Amber with? You thought you could breathe on me like you breathed on her, panting in sync with your secretary while I sat in our bedroom missing you? Did you think of how you’d just spoken to me on the phone before you let her into your hotel room? Go ahead, Eli. Tell me what you thought.”
He’s too stunned to say anything now. All Eli can do is look at me with sorrow and regret spilling from the pores on his face, knowing he can't do anything right with me now. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it probably won't be the last. This