Delusive by Courtney Lane

hair. I caught his lips against mine on the way down, stressing to him how thankful I was for the gift he gave me earlier.

    ELIAS’S HOME WAS situated on a cul-de-sac surrounded by three and a half acres of woodlands. The large two-story foyer opened to the second level and contained a grand center staircase leading to the north and south wings. The walls were decorated in some variant shade of black with white crown molding accents. The marble floors were imprinted with geometric designs in black and white, broken up to prevent creating a specific pattern throughout the house. Splashes of bright jewel tones here and there were set perfectly against the stark black and white theme.  
    His office downstairs was accentuated with glass fixtures and dark wood furniture. From the built-in bookcases, I could tell he was well read. The plaques and framed diplomas on the walls made it clear that he excelled in his extensive education and his firm was well recognized.  
    I wandered around the upstairs level, counting eight large bedrooms in total. Following the sounds where the shower stream was the loudest, I happened upon Elias’s bedroom with a bathroom en suite. The walls were painted gray and the king-size canopy bed—situated against the far wall—was draped in heavy dark print fabrics.  
    Between the bedroom and an adjoining bedroom was a small hall containing a few glass curio cabinets with several trophies varying in size.  
    “My father’s,” he said from behind me. He moved with the stealth of a ninja. I hadn’t heard him come into the hall, and his sudden appearance startled me out of my skin. “He was going to throw them out when he quit racing. I decided to keep them.”
    In the cabinet’s reflection, I could see Elias behind me, shirtless. His shoulders were broad and well-muscled. The defined chest and abdominal muscles proved my theories about him taking good care of his body. My gaze followed the thin sparse line of black hair that trailed down his firm and chiseled stomach and led to a place his pants hindered me from seeing. His sculpted waist curved inward, and downward; I caught a glimpse of a very prominent sartorius muscle.
    I closed my mouth upon realizing I left it hanging open. “Watching you, I was kind of scared for you.”
    He clutched my hand and turned me around to regard him. “Did you watch me? Because I think you watched the entire race with your eyes closed.”
    It became difficult to focus on anything besides his body. A light mist of moisture draped his clean cotton-scented skin. His body was incredibly sculpted with sharp defined cuts into his very tan skin. His muscles were shapely, but not bulky. Perfection. “You…saw me?” I asked dreamily without giving him eye contact. “How?”
    “I couldn’t see you, Hanley, you just told me your eyes were closed.” He ran his finger along my jawline, triggering an internal sensation that felt like I was floating, and lifted my chin to ensure my attention remained on his face. “Does it bother you?”
    I couldn’t think of a proper answer to his question. Any answer I had to give would’ve given too much away. My mind fell back into its distracted state with the way he was underdressed. It was new—wanting a man strongly and sexually. I hadn’t the slightest idea of how and why it happened, but it did.  
    His hard body pressed against mine and he wrapped one arm around me, mashing our bodies together. With his available hand, he combed his fingers through my hair and brushed one side behind my shoulder. Leaning to my side, he kissed the lobe of my ear softly. “Why are you so distracted?” His teeth sank into my lobe and pulled, eliciting a slight shocking sensation up my spine.
    I closed my eyes, relenting to the feeling I knew was wrong, but it felt too good to deny. I felt like I fit with him—as though I was supposed to be here when I never felt safe enough to find the comfort to be myself anywhere else. “You—your