Next-Door Incubus, page 13
part #1 of Becoming Lust Series
He grabbed my hands. “I have.”
“Why?”
A waiter walked up to our table and cleared his throat. “Evening Eros.” The man was tall, dark, and devilishly sexy. His blonde hair rested on the sides of his face and his piercing blue eyes stared right at me.
Eros swore under his breath and shook his head.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” the waiter said. “Last time you were here was with Luci, wasn’t it?”
There it was again. Her stupid name, ruining our time together. Luci, Luci, Luci.
Eros clenched his jaw. “We would like to order.”
“I see that you’ve brought a friend,” he said.
“We’ll take a basket of Fervor Crisps, a Passion Delight, and…” Eros looked at me. “What would you like?”
I pulled my hands away from Eros and rubbed my neck. “Water is fine.”
The waiter was staring down at me. “Is she yours?” he asked Eros, not peeling away his eyes away from me.
Eros tensed and sat up taller. “Our order.”
The waiter bowed his head slightly. “My apologies.”
When he walked toward the bar, Eros turned back to me and grabbed my hands again. “Ignore him.”
I nodded my head and drew my finger against this ring. “Why’re you ignoring me?” I asked. I wanted to know if it was because of Luci, but I couldn’t get myself to say her name. I didn’t want to seem like I was jealous—we weren’t even exclusive yet.
Hell, I didn’t know what we were.
“My family is bothersome,” Eros said. A stray piece of hair fell into his face as the faint scent of cinnamon drifted through the air.
I knew that. From Javier, from Kasey, from Eros himself. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation that I overheard last week. I wanted answers. “What am I involved in?”
“What’re you talking about?”
I took a deep breath. “I overheard your conversation with Javier last week,” I said. He pulled his hands away and groaned, leaning back in his seat. “You told me that you’ll tell me things later and I want to give you space to tell me when you’re ready, but…” My heart clenched. “But I don’t want to be lied to or kept in the dark. I don’t want to be—doing whatever we’re doing—with someone who’s keeping secrets from me. I—I don’t think I could handle that after what Trevon did.”
That was the truth. And, as much as I hated to admit it, my conversation with Trevon made me question everything. He was cheating on me for weeks, and I had no idea. What if Eros was the same way? What if he had secrets that would hurt me too?
He paused and pressed his lips together, then took my hands again. “My family lives very different lives than I do. They don’t understand my interests and they don’t understand why I enjoy your company.” He sighed softly. “I don’t have a good relationship with them. They’ve made me…” He gulped. “They’ve made me feel a certain way about myself, and I don’t want to reopen those memories right now.” He rubbed soothing circles against my palms. “I’m—I’m not a bad person.” His voice was quiet toward the end.
By the way he said those last few words—so slow, so confused—I didn’t think he believed what he was telling me.
I gently squeezed his hands. “I know you’re a good person… I just don’t want to get hurt.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said.
The waiter reappeared with a basket of Fervor Crisps and one Passion delight—ruining the moment. “Anything else I can get you?”
“No,” Eros said.
“What about you, dear?”
“No,” Eros said again.
Before he returned to the bar, he brushed his fingers against my forearm. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
I shuffled in my seat. “It’s, uh—”
“Leave us,” Eros said, jaw clenched.
The waiter hesitated but bowed his head again. “Again, my apologies.” He gazed at me. “Sweet dreams, my dear.” I wrinkled my nose at his departing figure. Talk about creepy.
When I looked back at Eros, he had nearly drunk half his Passion Delight already. His eyes were closed, shoulders relaxed, lips parted ever so slightly.
I sipped on my water. “What does your drink taste like?”
He reopened his dark, hazy eyes. “Like sex.”
“I didn’t know a drink could taste that good,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I grabbed a Fervor Crisp from the basket and bit into it, moaning softly. A drunken smirk stretched across Eros’s face, and he snatched one too. “These are good,” I said to him. “But yours are so much better.”
~~~
By the end of the night, Eros was resting back against the booth—completely relaxed. He had finished two Passion Delights, and together we devoured the Fervor Crisps. We took a to-go bag and headed back home.
Every time I glanced over at Eros from the passenger seat of his car, he looked tense. His jaw was clenched, his hand was tight around the steering wheel. It was a stark contrast to when we were at the bar. I placed my hand on top of his, hoping that it would relax him, but he immediately pulled it away. “Don’t do that, Dani.”
“Are you okay?”
He pressed his lips together and parked in the lot to our apartment building. The veins in his arms were visibly pulsing. “I shouldn’t have had that drink.”
“Are you feeling sick?” I asked, exiting the car and walking with him to the building.
“No.” He stayed a few feet away from me and walked into the elevator.
What was happening? He was avoiding me like the damn plague.
I stayed quiet and watched the muscles flex through his shirt. My eyes wandered down his body.
“That’s not the problem,” he finally said.
When the elevator doors opened, we stepped out of the elevator. He walked in front of me, shutting me out. Oh, here we go again. He told me something personal, then acted all distant.
We reached my apartment first. He didn’t say goodnight to me, just grabbed his keys from his pocket and continued quickly to his door. I followed him. “What’s wrong with you, Eros?”
He clenched his jaw. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that! I can’t figure you out.” I pressed my hands against my temples. “I’m tired of you playing with my feelings.”
“I’m not playing with your feelings.” His voice was stiff.
“You ignore me, you take me out, and when we get home, you’re suddenly distant again. What the hell is your problem?”
He turned toward me—eyes dark, wide, and angry. “You!”
I sucked in a breath full of cinnamon. Heart racing.
“You’re my problem, Dani.”
I pressed my lips together, nostrils flaring. “How am I your problem?”
His eyes flickered to my lips, then he pushed me against the door, snatched my chin, and pressed his fingers hard into my skin. “Everything about you drives me fucking crazy.”
My eyes widened. “Well, if that’s how you feel then leave me alone.” I firmly pushed my palms against his chest.
He shuffled back a few steps but immediately pressed me against the door again. Forehead resting on my own. Lips dangerously close to mine. His fingers brushed against my hips. “I can’t get enough of you.” His irises were completely black now. He paused, and his eyes flickered to my lips.
Oh, God. He was going to do it. He was going to kiss me.
“Fuck it,” he said, pressing his lips to mine in a moment full of passion and lust and want and need.
Chapter 26
One minute he was pushing me against the wall pressing his lips to mine, the next he was throwing me down onto his bed and tugging off his shirt.
His hands were all over my body. His hardness was pressing against the front of his jeans. I wrapped my legs around his waist, needing him closer. I had waited too long for this.
I ran my fingers all the way down his sculpted back, brushing them against two scars. He grabbed my wrists harshly and pinned them above me, then fingered the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head.
For almost a month, I had dreams of his fingers on my skin, his lips on my chest, his cock between my legs. But I never imagined that it would feel this good.
I ran my hands through his hair, making him groan. A wave of cinnamon engulfed us, and I inhaled the scent—getting drunk off of it.
With one hand, he groped my breast while the other was between my legs, pushing down my leggings. He placed hot, wet kisses down the center of my chest until he reached my bra line. His fingers curled around the hem of the cup, and he pulled it down, sucking my nipple into his mouth and grazing his teeth against it.
I gripped onto the bed sheets, brows knotting together. “Eros…”
He slipped his other hand into my panties and plunged them inside of me, thrusting them in and out. I dug my nails into his back, the pressure in my core rising with each thrust.
“Kiss me,” I said, breathlessly. He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me toward him, pressing his lips onto mine.
My head felt light, and all I could focus on was him and his fingers between my legs and his lips on my own, the scent of cinnamon, the sharpness of his nails digging into my skin, the pure energy that passed from my lips to his.
“Please… Eros… don’t stop…” I asked as he thrust his fingers quicker into me. The pressure was building up in my core, and when he bit down on my lip, I arched my back, moaned into his mouth, and came.
Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through my body. My mind felt fuzzy. My fingers were tingling. I wanted more.
He placed light kisses down my neck, down my chest, down my abdomen until he reached the waistband of my leggings.
“What—what are you doing?” I asked in a daze.
He pulled them down, pressed his lips to my clit, and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy. “You taste so fucking good.”
My legs trembled, but he wrapped his arms around them and forced them still. I gazed down at him, curling my fingers into his hair—right where he liked it. His irises darkened even more. They looked as if they were growing and consuming the whites of his eyes.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He pulled his lips a few inches away from my pussy and dropped his head, so I couldn’t see his face. After taking a deep yet shaky breath, his jaw twitched. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He abruptly sat up and turned away from me. “Not now,” he said to himself. “Not fucking now.”
I sat up, brows knotted together. “Is everything okay?” I asked, gazing at the scars on his back. They looked just like the ones from my dream.
“You have to go,” he said. “Now, Dani.”
My eyes widened. “No, Eros. I’m not leaving you like this. What’s wrong?” I trailed my fingers down his back. Was that drink affecting him? Was he going to get sick?
After what he went through with me at the Halloween party, I wasn’t about to let him get sick right here, right now when I could help him. “Eros…”
He jumped off of the bed and rushed to the door, keeping his head low.
I wrapped his sheets around my body and followed him out of the room. He rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. For a few moments, I gazed at it—heart racing. Then, I knocked. “Eros, are you okay?”
“Leave, Dani. Now.”
“I’m not going to leave you when you’re sick.”
“Go before something happens.”
My brows furrowed together. What was the worst that could happen? He could projectile vomit or something, but that was it. That’d be gross, but I didn’t care.
I lightly tapped on the door. “Please, Eros. I just want to help.”
Another door opened in the apartment, and Zane walked out—shirtless. His eyes widened for a moment and wandered down my body. “Dani, what are you doing here?”
“Eros is sick,” I said, nodding to the door.
His gaze flickered between me and the door a few times. “Let me take you back to your apartment,” he said, tensely.
“If you fucking touch her Zane, I’ll kill you!” Eros said. I could hear his deep breathing from behind the door, and I gulped. I didn’t want to leave him like this.
Zane looked me in the eye. “Please, Dani. You need to leave. Eros will call you when he feels better.”
I frowned. “Are you sure?” I asked. When he nodded, I sighed and placed my hand and my forehead on the wooden door. “Feel better, Eros,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
It was stupid, but I felt a little hurt. He had helped me when I was sick, and he didn’t even want me to help him when he was sick.
I retrieved my clothes from his room, gazing around at the sleek interior for only a moment, then walked back to my apartment. My mind was racing with a thousand different thoughts: how I was so close to letting him take me, how I could still smell his cinnamon scent, how I wished that he never got sick, how I hoped that he was alright.
Maria was flipping pancakes when I got home. The early morning sun was gleaming through the windows, soft Christmas music was playing throughout the apartment, she turned around when she heard the door open. “Someone’s home a little late.”
“I—uh—just had to get some things at the store,” I said.
Bacon sizzled on the stove, and she waved the spatula at me. “Why don’t you have breakfast with me and you can tell me about the things you bought at the store.” She made two plates for us, and I sighed. “I made your favorite!”
My stomach growled, and I cursed at it. She placed our plates at the counter and hopped up onto a stool. “So, how was the date?”
“What date?”
“With Eros.” She playfully rolled her eyes at me. “I saw you come home with him this morning.”
I grabbed a piece of bacon and broke it in half, letting the grease glisten on my fingers. “It was good.”
“What’d you do?” She stuffed a forkful of pancakes in her mouth.
“Stuff.”
“Sexy stuff?” she asked. I pressed my lips together, cheeks flushing. “Oh, my gosh. You did, didn’t you?”
There was no point in even trying to lie to her anymore. She was going to find out one way or another. Zane would probably tell her that I was in his apartment—half-naked and banging on the bathroom door for Eros to come out.
“Kind of,” I said.
She banged her fist on the table, making the utensils jump. “Finally! The sexual tension between you two was killing me. Every time I was around, I thought I was going to go crazy for you.” She smirked, rested her forearms on the table, and leaned forward. “How good is he? Is he, you know, well-endowed?”
I shook my head at her and smiled softly. “I don’t know. We didn’t have sex.”
“Ugh,” she said, throwing her head back. “Why not?”
“I think he got sick.” I didn’t want her to pry anymore, so I leaned forward. “So… how are you and Zane?”
She took a long sip of her orange juice. “Thinking about it makes me want to day drink.” She stabbed her pancakes. “I was actually starting to like him, and I think he started to actually like me too. But…” She sighed. “Last night he asked me if I would consider an open relationship.”
“Oh.” An open relationship? That was like what Kasey had with Aarav and Mycah. “Would you consider it?”
She twirled her fork and gazed down. “I’m not sure. I’m not good at the whole relationship thing, I have trust issues and get jealous over the smallest things.”
“You don’t seem like a jealous person.”
“I hide it well.” She parted her lips and took a deep breath. “My dad cheated on my mom when I was little, and it screwed me up. I’m trying to work on it with my therapist though.” She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “But I’m scared.”
I walked around the table and pulled her into a hug. “Take a leap of faith and let him know how you feel.”
Chapter 27
Eros sat on my bed, hands posted on the pillows behind him, staring right at me with his demonic black eyes. I crawled over, knelt in front of him, and brushed my fingers against one of his curved horns. He sighed and pushed his head against my hand.
I gripped it—its ridged texture tickling my palm—then brushed my fingers down the side of his face. He cupped my head in his hands and gazed into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
My brows furrowed together. “For what?”
He breathed deeply, taking my hands in his. For a moment, there was so much uncertainty in his eyes. “For kicking you out yesterday.”
“It’s okay. You were sick,” I said like I was actually talking to him.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You-you weren’t?”
He paused and gazed down at our hands. His ring was pressed against my skin and looked as if it was glowing against it. When he gazed back at me, his eyes were still black. They were so big, so beautiful, so breathtaking.
“I couldn’t let you see me,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t let you see me,” he said again.
I still didn’t understand. “I’m sorry… I don’t know what you mean.” I had seen him almost every day since that Sunday morning when he caught me dancing around my apartment in only my panties.
He placed my hands on his face and moved them across his skin, then to the horns on his head again. His eyes fluttered close in pure bliss as I trailed my fingers up them. “This me,” he whispered. His voice sounded so vulnerable.
This him. The him in my dreams? I shook my head. The him in my dreams wasn’t the real him—even though a part of me fantasized about it.
I trailed my fingers back down his face and grasped it gently. He reopened his eyes, and I drank in their darkness. Then, I pressed my lips to his.
This him or the real him; it didn’t matter.
I wanted him. I wanted him so badly.
~~~
I opened my eyes, a feeling of sadness washing over me. Eros was gone faster than I wanted him to be. Hell, I wished that I could stay in dreamland forever and just be with him—the him in my dreams.
