Hinged, Grown and Sexy

7. Rhythmic Romance

So, what exactly was he up to?

"Where are we?" I asked when he came around to open my door.

Again, that easy smile grew on his face that said he knew all the secrets to the world but would only share them for the right price. I wondered what that price would be.

A kiss? A sinful touch? Or a secret of my own?

"You scared, beautiful?"

Now, I'm not one to back down from a challenge, but the street was getting darker and we seemed to be heading towards a closed bookstore. I didn't exactly grow up in the best neighborhood, but these shoes definitely weren't meant for running.

"I'm never scared, but I can't be your legal representation if I'm in the jail with you."

Laughter echoed against brick walls as we walked toward a side door I hadn't even noticed.

"Technically, you'd be across from me on the women's side."

"Haha, so funny." I deadpanned, just as Eli stopped right next to the door and knocked.

The door swung open to reveal an oddly artsy-looking bouncer. He had freeform locs and the type of attitude that said he didn't have a care in the world.

Why anyone would pay him to guard a door when he looked like he wouldn't bat an eye if a serial killer walked in was beyond me.

"$10 each." He said, eyes already rolling as he inhaled what looked and smelled like a blunt.

Eli passed him a twenty, and he slid out the way to let us both pass. I didn't even notice when he blew out the smoke since a scent of sage, weathered books, and weed clung to the air.

Even the darkness didn't phase Eli as he took my hand to guide me through the store, only stopping in front of a specific part of the wall covered in bookshelves.

"What—" I started, but I was at a loss for words as he pushed on the bookshelf to reveal a speakeasy.

As we walked in, we were bathed in the deep red tones from the hanging lightbulbs that fit right into the earthy aesthetic. The book decor was still present though, with limited editions of banned and erotic books in frames and book shelves carved out of the concrete.

I'm almost sure I saw a first print of the karma sutra.

There was a stage a couple steps below us that a band was performing on, but people seemed to be trading out every so often. Low murmurs almost vibrated the space with the music from the tables and chairs full of people vibing and smoking.

I'd never been to any place like it and never even knew to look. How strange that it felt like a tragedy that I'd been living without it.

Already the vibe of the place was seeping into my bones.

I felt like I was floating up where the smoke was circling the ceiling, and my soul released tension I didn't even know I had.

"Let's grab a table." Eli suggested, his hand leaving my hand to slide along my forearm to eventually rest against my back to guide me.

The warmth of his large hand seemed to slip past the boundaries of my clothes so that I could feel him along the base of my spine. Part of me wished his hand would slip just a little further to bend along the curve of my ass.

Ever the gentleman, his hand never fell until he moved away to pull out my chair and slide it back in.

After he sat down, there was a wordless agreement to just be with the music. Unconsciously, my body was swaying in time with each song's low notes, and I began to lazily trail my gaze across Eli's form.

He was handsome in the best, most unfair ways. His eyes alone were disarming in their intensity, but it was his smooth charisma that was getting me hooked on him.

Eli always had a laugh brewing, one way or another, but underneath it was an attentive type of care. He didn't just carry himself with ease, he also wanted to give it.

And I knew in the long run that I'd be a sucker for that type of reciprocated affection.

Except, I couldn't.

I had professional wars to wage and win. I didn't have time to handle a man that expected me home at five or dinner on the table at eight. The world had taught me I couldn't have my cake and eat it to.

So, I tried to practice not wanting it.

Despite my refusal, some of my thoughts whispered that Eli was the type of man to end the night with massaging my feet and ordering the greasiest, most delicious pizza before turning on a movie.

And that would be great at times like this when my mind was already straying to the assignment on my laptop at home.

"Where's your head at?" Eli asked, disturbing my train of thought.

"I—" I started but hesitated to finish.

I shouldn't talk shop on a date. It hadn't faired particularly well for me in the past.

But, I was naturally open and honest. It didn't seem like me if I held back.

"Stop." Eli ordered.

"Stop what?" I questioned with a raised brow.

I wasn't one for orders outside the bedroom, so I was gearing up to tell him that no man was going to run me.

"You look like you're about to go to war, lovely." He chuckled.

"Am I?"

"Not with me." He shrugged, almost seeming to relax into the pressure as his posture loosened and his legs stretched. "I was only going to say don't give me the censored shit. One of the things I always liked about you was that you don't pull punches. I wouldn't be here if I couldn't handle a lil spice in my coffee."