no control

• twenty •

Above us, the dome ceiling curved down to meet gold crowning and matching granite tiles. An enormous chandelier hung down and illuminated a wooden table with a pot of white orchids. Everything was so elegant yet stylish, I envied the creativity of the designer.

Elijah carried on into a spacious kitchen with a rock feature over the stove, wood cabinets, and an island bigger than the enormous bed I was just dragged out of. He pulled out a bar stool from under the island and dropped me onto it.

I sat still and took in the grandeur of the things around me. This house was exquisite. It must have cost a fortune to build, much less furnish and decorate.

"So . . ." I drawled a bit skeptically, "is this your house?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Elijah threw me his signature smirk. "Do you think I would bring you somewhere else, angel?"

"Well, I dunno. Could be like your parents' place or something? It's just so huge and fancy for someone your age."

The stainless coffee brewer beeped and the sound of beans grinding filled the room. He faced me again, devoting his full attention to my presence. I squirmed and played with my fingers while his bright eyes were bright teemed with zeal.

"And what is my age?" he asked.

I made a show of looking him up and down before guessing, "Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-seven, thank you."

"Okay, exactly." I threw my hands in the air. "How many twenty-seven-year-olds own a mansion? None that I know of!"

"Well, you know at least one now," he said with a cheeky grin.

He crossed to the fridge, which blended seamlessly in with the wooden cabinets around it, and opened one of the wide doors. The fridge itself was the size of a small car.

"How do you take your coffee?" he asked.

"Just a splash of coffee creamer. If you don't have any, I can just do milk or cream, whatever you have. Knowing you, you probably drink some boujee goat milk or something," I muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't even like goat milk. Now, I don't have creamer but I do have some other options. I'll make sure to add creamer to the grocery list."

"You don't have to do that," I said, blood surging into my cheeks. "You've done plenty for me."

"And who says I'm stopping now?" He arched a coy brow. "Come pick what you want."

I stood up and padded over to the fridge. His hands settled on my shoulders as he directed me to stand between him and the fridge. The warmth of his body heat seeped through the thin t-shirt I wore, and when he pressed closer, I could feel his semi-erect cock nudge my ass.

Blowing out a breath, I tried to focus. My eyes roved the multitude of fridge shelves in search of the dairy options.

Jesus Christ, this fridge had everything. The drawers were full of fresh fruits and vegetables. The shelves contained egg cartons, meats, juice bottles, and glass leftover containers. There was an entire drawer dedicated for cheese. For cheese.

I forgot what I was even looking for until Elijah reached over my head to pluck out a bottle of half and half. Oh, right. That would work.

While he added the thick milk to our mugs, I admired the flex in his corded arms and back. I subtly rubbed the back of my hand against my mouth to ensure there wasn't any drool.

"So, why didn't you tell me you're mega rich?" I asked.

"Never occurred to me to disclose as much. Why does it matter?"