The Sweetest Summer

Chapter Forty - Adore You

"Yes, I do. Fuck you Eli. And fuck me for still loving you..." I growled.

Eli's large hands easily stripped my runway outfit over my head, and the cold Paris breeze hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Let's go inside." He shivered against my lips as I fumbled beneath my legs for the button of his dress pants. I couldn't exactly argue as he carried me inside, out of the cold, and set me down right in front of the fire. The living room floor even felt heated beneath my back. Each individual wood plank seemed to extinguish the cold until I was left with nothing but heat.

I slowly wiggled my space boots off of my feet and kicked them into the corner of the room, arching my back as Eli watched.

After a few awe struck moments, he bent forward and tugged his socks and dress shoes off, but never broke eye contact with me. He popped the button of his dress pants, the one I couldn't quite reach out on the balcony, and my mouth physically watered. The curve of his chest, the lines of his abs, the way it all ended in a delicious V-shape was too much to handle.

How could this fantastic specimen of a man, standing shirtless in the glow of the fire love me? A scarier thought came next. How could this prefect specimen of a man, be expected to practice monogamy?

I lay in my cherry red EVOL lingerie that barely covered my bust and sat low just under my hip bones. Still, the French lace was nicer than anything I'd owned back in Malibu. Simple black and white cotton boy shorts and sports bras were my typical uniform back home, but from the way Eli was worshiping my new intimates, I realized I'd been missing out.

"They're from the runway show..." I explained half-heartedly.

"Yeah, um they're nice. I mean, I uh, I really like them..." Eli licked his lips again and dropped his pants and it was my turn to stare. His tan skin was as perfect as always, but he was a little leaner than I remembered. His pectorals still looked prominent, and I could solidly count six of his abdominal muscles, but he looked like a leading man, and not like a football stud anymore.

"How did I get so lucky?" He asked dropping to his knees in front of me like he was praying and I sat up on my elbows. The wood dug into my bony forearms as I studied the glimmer in his eyes. What was that? Regret?

"Lucky?" I questioned breathlessly.

"Yeah." He motioned to me lying on the floor, awaiting his next move. "With you. Wearing that. On a living room floor in fucking Paris." He smiled widely, a private smile only we shared. No matter how many red carpets, or press venues, or paparazzi photos he'd have taken, they'd never catch him like this. This was my Eli. Reserved only for me and the intimate bond we shared.

"What if we're both the lucky ones?" I ventured, my mouth feeling a little dry.

"Then we're both lucky beyond compare." Eli grinned crookedly, looking as cocky as the day I saw him surfing on the beach. Damn him and that Godly body and those deep blue eyes. Regardless of how many months I'd spent mad at him, one smirking smile had me forgetting all of his many transgressions.

I reached behind my back and fingered my bra clasp, hoping to regain some control, but Eli's hand was quick to cover mine.

"Please don't." His eyes burned hotter than the fire beside us.

"You don't want to...." I let my voice trail off, insecurity twisting itself deep inside of me.

"Of course I do." His fingers trailed down my spine and I arched upwards to meet his touch. I still didn't understand how one touch from him could set my heart racing, my underwear pooling, and my skin on fire. "I just want to take my time. I want to remember everything about you in this moment." He stood briefly and held up two of his fingers on both hands to make a box, like a picture frame, and gazed through it at me. I giggled and he grinned along with me.