VERY WILLING TO LET HER
CONTINUE
ELI
THE PREVIOUS NIGHT
She looked even more beautiful than in her picture.
And sheโd looked pretty fucking stunning in that, too, standing in front of a painfully familiar UT Austin sign. Not a selfieโa regular
old-school photo, cropped to cut out her companion. All that was left was a slender, dark-skinned arm slung lazily around a shoulder. And, of course,ย her. Smiling, but only faintly. There, but remote.
Beautiful.
Not that it mattered much. Eli had hooked up with enough people to know that a personโs looks had a little less impact on the quality of casual sex than what that person was looking for. Still, when he arrived at the hotel lobby and spotted her at the bar, sitting straight on the tall stool, he stopped in his tracks. Hesitated, even though his meeting with Hark and the others had run behind, and dropping home to check on Tiny had put him a few minutes late.
She was drinking Sanpellegrinoโa relief, since given their plans for the night, anything else would have given him pause. Her jeans and sweater
were simple, and her posture was a thing of beauty. Relaxed, yet regal. Spine unbent, but not on edge. She didnโt look nervous, and had the easy air of someone who did this often enough to know exactly what to expect.
Eli remembered her pertinent questions and straight-to-the-point answers. Sheโd messaged him the day before, and when heโd asked,ย Where would you like to meet?ย her response had been,
Not my apartment.
My place doesnโt work either. I can book a hotel and cover the cost.
Iโm okay with splitting.
No need.
Works for me, then. FYI, Iโll share my location with a friend who has my login info to the app.
Please do. Would you like my phone number?
We can keep messaging here.
Sounds good. Whatever made her feel safest. The dating app game could be dangerous. Then again, the app they were using wasnโt for dating, not by any correct meaning of the word.
Eli glanced at the woman one last time, and something resembling the anticipation he used to be capable of rose inside him.ย Good, he told himself.ย This is going to be good. He started walking again but stopped a few feet away.
When another man approached.
Some poor asshole hitting on her, Eli originally figured, but it quickly became apparent that she already knew him. Her eyes widened, then narrowed in a one-two punch. Her spine locked. She shifted back, seeking more distance.
An ex of some kind, Eli thought as the man spoke urgently. A hushed conversation began, and while the elevator music was too loud for Eli to pick up the words, the tension in her shoulder blades wasnโt a good sign. She shook her head, then ran a hand through her dark, glossy curls, and when they swept to the side, he caught the line of her nape: stiff. Stiffer as the man started talking faster. Inching closer. Gesticulating harder.
Then his hand closed around her upper arm, and Eli intervened.
He was at the bar in seconds, but the woman was already trying to pry herself free. He stopped behind her stool and ordered, โLet her go.โ
The man glanced up, glassy-eyed. Drunk, maybe. โThis is none of your business, bro.โ
Eli stepped closer, bicep brushing against the womanโs back. โLet. Her.
Go.โ
The man looked,ย reallyย looked. Had a brief moment of common sense, in which he estimated, correctly, that he had no chance against Eli. Reluctantly, slowly, he unhanded the woman and raised his arms in a peacekeeping gesture, knocking over her glass in the process. โThereโs a misunderstandingโโ
โIs there?โ He glanced at the woman, who was rescuing her phone from a puddle of Sanpellegrino. Her silence was answer enough. โNope. Get out,โ he ordered, at once amiable and menacing. Eliโs entire professional life relied on his ability to find something that would motivate people to successfully do their jobs, and in his expert opinion, this shithead needed to be scared a little.
It worked: shithead glared, ground his jaw, glanced around as though searching for witnesses to join him in denouncing the injustice he was being subjected to. When no one stepped forward, he scuttled angrily toward the entrance of the hotel, and Eli turned toward the woman.
Electricity jolted through him. Her eyes were large and liquid, a dark blue he wasnโt sure heโd encountered before. Eli stared into them and briefly lost track of his question.
Ah. Right. It was something very complex, something along the lines of โAre you okay?โ
Instead of replying, she asked, โDo you often engage in vigilante bullshit to compensate for whatever your issues are?โ Her voice was tame, but her glare blazed. Eli noticed that her upper lip was slightly fuller than the lower. Both were dark pink. โBecause maybe you could just buy an infantry tank.โ
His eyebrow rose. โAnd maybe you could choose better men to spend your time with.โ
โThatโs for sure, since I came here to spend time withย you.โ Ah. Sheโd recognized him, then. And she wasnโt a fan.
Eli didnโt blame her for thinking him a brash, hotheaded jerk, but the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. She clearly didnโt want
him around, andย thatย had him feeling a small tinge of disappointment. It swelled larger as he looked at her lips one last time, but he shrugged it off.
Too bad, but notย thatย bad. He gave her one last nod, turned around, and
โ
A hand closed around his wrist.
He looked at her over his shoulder.
โIโm sorry.โ She screwed her eyes shut tight. Then took a deep breath
and smiled the faintest smile heโd ever seen, which sent a new, heated wave of interest vibrating through him.
Eli was no aesthete. He had no idea whether this woman was objectively,ย scientificallyย beautiful, or whether her face simply came together in a way that seemed to work perfectly for him. Either way, the result was the same.
A big fucking turn-on. โEli, right?โ she asked.
He nodded. Fully turned to her.
โIโm sorry. I was still in fight-or-flight mode. Iโm usually way less defensive about . . .โ She gestured vaguely. Her nails were red. Her hands graceful, but trembling. โBeing helped. Thank you for what you did.โ Her hand dropped from his wrist to curl into her lap, and he followed every inch of that journey, mesmerized.
โYou didnโt mention your name,โ he said, instead ofย youโre welcome. On the app, sheโd just used one initial:ย R.
โNo, I didnโt.โ She didnโt elaborate, and her uncompromising tone was a thrill all by itself.
Rachel? Rose. Rubyย turned to watch the entrance, where the man still loitered, giving them resentful glances. When her throat bobbed, Eli offered casually, โI could go scare him off.โ His brawling days were overโhad been since high school, when his life had been hockey practices and detentions and lots of rage. Still, he knew how to deal with assholes.
โItโs okay.โ She shook her head. โOr call the police.โ
Another shake. Then, after a moment of reluctance, she added, โBut maybe you could . . .โ
โIโll stay,โ he said, and her posture softened in relief. With the way the shithead was acting, Eli had planned to keep an eye on her anywayโwhich was probably a whole other degree of creepy, but here he was. Making this random girl whose name he didnโt even know his business. He leaned back
against the counter, arms crossed on his chest. A large group approached the bar and took a seat next to them, forcing him to shift a little closer to her.
R.
Rebecca.ย Rowan.
โI know weโre supposed to . . .โ She gestured vaguely upward, and a million things flashed in his brain at the flick of her index finger.
The pragmatic tone of her first message to him:ย Are you still in the Austin area? Interested in meeting up?
Theย only casualโno relationships or repeat meetingsย in her bio.
Her answer to theย Kinks?ย question on the open survey.
The list of what she wasย notย willing to do. Of what sheย was.
At this point he doubted anything would happen between them tonight, but he was still going to mull over the latter. A lot.
โI donโt want to anymore,โ she continued, voice steady. He liked that she didnโt sayย canโt, butย donโt want. The lack of apology in her tone. Her serious, quiet expression.
โYou mean, you donโt want to go upstairs and fuck a man you donโt know minutes after a man youย doย know assaulted you?โ He gave her a look of mock surprise, and she nodded thoughtfully.
โThatโs a good recap. I bet itโs too late to get a refund on the hotel room, so if you need to make plans with someone else for tonight, feel free.โ
He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. โIโll survive,โ he said dryly.
โAs you prefer,โ she told him, indifferent. She clearly couldnโt care less whether he took his phone out and booty-called half the city or swore his undying loyalty to her, and Eli bit back a smile. Her head cocked. โDo you do this a lot?โ she asked.
โDo what? Fuck?โ
โSave damsels in distress.โ โNo.โ
โBecause you donโt encounter many, or because you leave them in distress?โ Her voice was soft, and on anyone elseโs lips the words would have sounded like flirting. Not hers, though. โEither way, Iโm flattered,โ she added.
โYou should be.โ He glanced at the man, who was still outside, glaring. โDo you live alone?โ
Her eyebrows rose, and he noticed a faint scar bisecting the right. His index finger tapped once against the counter, itching to trace it. โAre you trying to find out if Iโm single?โ
โIโm trying to figure out what the chances are that the dipshit will be waiting for you where you live, who could help you if he is, or whether your pet could protect you.โ
โAh.โ She didnโt look flustered to have misunderstood him. Fascinating. โI do live alone. And he shouldnโt know where.โ
โShouldnโt?โ
โIโm not sure how he tracked me here. I can only imagine that he found out where I lived, wasnโt allowed inside by my doorman, and followed my Uber when it picked me up.โ Sheโd been shaken until a minute earlier, but now she sounded disarmingly utilitarian.ย Just like in her texts, Eli thought. Sheโd messaged him with no emojis. No LOL or LMAO. Correctly placed punctuation and proper capitalization. Heโd guessed it was a localized quirk, but her demeanor seemed like the embodiment of her writing.
Serious. A little impenetrable. Complicated. And Eli had never been a fan of easy.
โHow are you getting home?โ he asked.
โUber. Or Lyft. Whateverโs quicker.โ She picked up her phone, but when she tapped on it, it refused to light up. Eli remembered the spilled water. โWell, this is a new development.โ She sighed. โIโll hail a cab.โ
No fucking way, he almost said, but stopped with his mouth half-open. This woman was not his friend, sister, colleague. She was someone with whom heโd been planning to have a sexual relationship that would last part of the night, then never see again. He had no right to tell her what to do.
Though heย couldย try to convince her.
โHeโs still out there,โ Eli said evenly, pointing at the man with his chin. He paced outside the revolving door, skin glistening with sweat. โWaiting for you to step out of the bar.โ
โRight.โ She scratched her long neck. Eli stared far longer than he should have. โCould you walk outside with me?โ
โI will. But what if heย doesย know where you live, and waits for you there? What if he follows you?โ He watched her ponder the situation. โDo you have a neighbor you trust? A friend? A brother?โ
She laughed once, silently, in a wistful way that Eli didnโt understand. โNot quite.โ
โOkay.โ He nodded, experiencing the opposite of annoyance at the thought of what would have to happen. โIโll drive you home, then.โ
Her look was long and even. Eli wondered why her wide, limpid eyes felt like a punch to the stomach. โYouโre suggesting I get in the car of a man I do not know to avoid being harassed by a man I do know?โ
He shrugged. โPretty much.โ
She bit her lower lip. Suddenly, Eli was more physically aware of another human being than he remembered being in a long,ย longย while. โThank you, but Iโll have to pass. The potential for situational irony is a bit too high, even for me.โ
โI donโt think this qualifies as situational irony.โ โIt would if you turned out to be a serial killer.โ
Smiling wasnโt going to win him any points, but he couldnโt help himself. โYou were going to go upstairs to a hotel room booked under my name and spend hours alone with me.โ
โHours?โ
The way he was feeling at the moment, more than that. โHours,โ he repeated. She held his gaze for every letter. โSeems late in the game to worry about whether Iโll murder you.โ
โA friend knew where Iโd be and how to check on me,โ she countered. โA second location is a whole different beast.โ
โIs it?โ He had no business being this pleased by her self-preservation. โVincentโs a dick. But for all I know, youโre the Unabomber.โ
Vincent. She knew the dickheadโs nameโand Eli still didnโt knowย hers.
Fucking irritating. โUnabomberโs dead.โ
โThatโs what the Unabomber would say to throw me off,โ she deadpanned, unknowable. He couldnโt tell whether she was flirting, making fun of him, or dead serious.
It was exhilarating.
โHe made bombs and solved math theorems. He didnโt kidnap young women.โ
โYou know a lot about the Unabomber for someone who supposedly isnโt him.โ
Eli looked up at the ceiling to hide his amusement, exhaling slowly. Then he straightened. Took his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and the driverโs license out of his wallet. Dropped it on the counter, right by her hand.
โWhatโs this?โ
He leaned back against the counter without replying, and she nimbly picked it up. Her eyes shifted between him and the picture on the card, as though solving a Find the Difference puzzle. โEli Killgore,โ she read. โThis is not a reassuring name, Eli.โ
He frowned. โItโs Scottish.โ
โIt sounds like the name of someone who trims girlsโ pubes and sews them into dolls. You look younger than thirty-four. And are you reallyย thatย tall?โ He sighed heavily, and she returned his license, straight faced. โSo weโve established that your last name is closely related to the term โblood splatter.โ But I still donโt know that this isnโt a fake ID you made to lure women into your mothdecorated lair.โ
โI bet you think youโre so funny.โ
โActually, Iย knowย Iโm not. I was born without a sense of humor.โ
He huffed out his amusement. She was fucking with him, had to be. And Eli was apparently very willing to let her continue, because he pushed his entire wallet toward her. โKnock yourself out.โ He watched eagerly as her slim fingers opened it, wondering why her elegant movements seemed to be unlocking some kind of long-hidden fetish part of his brain. She brought it to her nose to smell the leather (an odd, inexplicably appealing move), pulled out a random credit card, then another.
โEli Massmurderer,โ she said. โNot my name.โ
โYou have a library card.โ She sounded bemused, and he clucked his tongue.
โHere I am, trying to help you out in a difficult situation, and you repay me by being surprised that I can read.โ
She smiled, something small and mysterious that shouldnโt have sent a thrill up his spine. โI thought youโd be more of a Planet Fitness cardholder.โ โNot at all condescending.โ He tried not to grin and failed. But it was okay, because she kept methodically rifling through his life via the wallet, stopping to peruse the more interesting pieces, once humming audibly. Eli felt it like a physical thing, a thrum through air and flesh. Like her slender
fingers were peeling out the layers of him, slowly, inexorably.
โWell, you do have health insurance, which hopefully covers the necessary amount of murder-prevention therapy,โ she said dispassionately before folding the wallet and handing it back to him with a solemn nod. She
gave one last look at the doors, where Vincent was nervously smoking a cigarette. Still in wait.
โThis is one consistent wallet. Despite the fact that your name is literally Carnagemonger.โ
โNot literally. Not figuratively, either.โ
โRegardless.โ Her lips curved in the shadow of a smile. Eli felt it in his marrow, wrapped around his balls. โMr. Killgore, you may drive me home.โ