Testing His Theory

ELIJAH’s POV

I drove up to Rosalie’s house and stopped the car right in front, letting my eyes glide through the almost dilapidated building. 

The place looked plain, ugly and pea sized next to the kind of houses I lived in. 

It was too small, wayyy smaller than I would’ve ever  imagined. 

But why the fuck would I imagine anything anyways?

I let out a small sigh, my hand reaching up to massage the bridge of my temple as i sat there, my eyes digging into the front door. 

After staying in the same position for a few breathless moment,  I got out and closed the door hard, my boots drumming against the tiled floor as I walked up the short path.

I knocked twice. 

The door opened after the second knock and a man with wrinkled shirt and messy hair opened the door, his face scrunched as he stared up at me. Though; I could see the recognition in his eyes. 

I didn’t need to guess who.

It was Rosalie’s fiancé, Chris. 

“She’s packing,” he said, his voice flat as he stood in a way that suggested I had no right to be standing in front of their door. 

I didn’t wait for him to invite me in. I stepped past him into the living room. 

Immediately I did, I bit back the urge to scrunch my nose.

The room smelled like cheap perfume and old paint. Like it had barely been taken care of. Or maybe…someone didn’t have the money for maintenance.

I turned around to face him. “Tell her the private jet is ready. We leave as soon as she’s done packing.”

His face twisted. “A private jet? Just to take her back to your place? You’re really showing off, aren’t you? Trying to make me look small?”

I chuckled inwardly, my eyes piercing into his figure.

Make him look small? 

He already was.

I didn’t bother to retort. I let my hand slide into my pant pocket, my eyes darting around the room as I waited for Rosalie.

‘’Elijah.’’ 

I turned around to find Rosalie walking towards me with a small black bag in hand. 

Her eyes trailed over me first before darting away and stopping on Chris. She looked tired, disheveled.

Her eyes fell back on me and she called out my name again, her voice tight like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to say it to me because she hated my guts.

My jaws ticked. “The jet is ready. We can leave now if you’re—‘’

‘’Quit being cocky already!’’ Chris interrupted and I turned to him.

His eyes were burning with rage and he crossed his arm around his chest. ‘’Can’t you see what he’s doing Rose? Acting like you belong to him already.’’

Oh…she does.

I didn’t say that part out loud though. 

I corked a small smirk, watching as Rosalie turned to Chris fast. “Don’t get worked up over nothing. Just ignore whatever he says. I’m almost finished packing.” She looked back at me. “Give me five minutes. I need to grab a few more things from the bedroom.”

She turned and walked away down the short hall.

Chris and I stayed in the living room. The quiet felt thick. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking. Chris shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

I looked at him and kept my voice even. “You sure you’re fine with her coming with me for the full ninety days?”

Chris gave a small smile that never reached his eyes. He lifted his chin a little. “I’m not too worried. Especially since you can’t satisfy her in bed.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. 

My chest went tight for a second. My hands wanted to curl into fists, but I kept them open at my sides. I stared at him and said nothing. Not one word. 

Chris’s smile grew wider. 

He thought his theory was right because I stayed quiet. He thought silence meant I agreed.

Rosalie walked past us a minute later. She carried an empty water bottle and headed straight for the kitchen. She didn’t look at either of us. Her steps were quick.

I followed her.

The kitchen was small and bright. She stood at the counter and started filling the bottle with water from the tap. I closed the space between us until I stood right behind her. Close enough that I could feel the heat from her back.

“What did he mean by that?” I asked. My voice came out low and rough.

She turned around fast. Water spilled a little on her hand. “What?”

“He said I can’t satisfy you in bed.” I kept my eyes locked on her face. “Is that what you told him? Did you sit here and tell him I was bad at it?”

Rosalie’s cheeks turned pink. She set the bottle down hard. “I never said that. He’s just talking. Making things up to feel better about himself.”

I stepped closer. The counter pressed against her lower back now. She had nowhere to go. “Talking about something he doesn’t know anything about.”

She tried to move sideways. I put one hand on the counter beside her hip so she couldn’t slip past me.

“Elijah, stop. Not here.”

I didn’t stop. I slid my other hand under the bottom of her dress. My fingers touched the soft warm skin of her thigh. She sucked in a sharp breath and her whole body went still.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. Her voice shook a little.

“Testing his theory,” I said. My hand stayed on her thigh. I moved it higher, slow and careful, until my fingers were close to the edge of her underwear. “You melt so easily for someone who supposedly can’t satisfy you. Your body still answers me the same way it always did.”

Her leg trembled under my hand. She pressed her lips together hard, trying not to make a sound. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, then opened again. She grabbed my wrist with both hands, but she didn’t push with any real strength. Her fingers just held on.

“Don’t,” she said. The word came out weak.

I leaned in until my mouth was near her ear. I could smell her shampoo and the faint scent of her skin. “Your body doesn’t agree with your mouth, Rina. It never did. Three years and nothing changed.”

She made a small sound in her throat. Her breathing got faster. I felt her shift her weight, almost leaning into my hand instead of away from it. The kitchen felt smaller. The air felt hotter. My fingers brushed the soft inside of her thigh again, higher this time. Her knees looked ready to give out.

From the living room Chris called, “Rosalie?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked on mine. Her free hand gripped the edge of the counter so tight her knuckles turned white. I could see the pulse jumping in her neck.

Chris called again, louder. “Rosalie, are you okay in there?”

Still nothing from her. She was lost in the way my hand felt against her skin. I watched every small change on her face. The way her lips parted. The way her breath hitched. The way her body softened even while her mind tried to fight it.

I moved my hand one more inch higher. A tiny sound left her throat before she could stop it. Her eyes went a little unfocused.

Then Chris’s footsteps came down the short hallway. Fast and heavy.

The kitchen door was wide open. He walked in and stopped dead in the doorway.

“Rosalie!”

His voice was sharp this time. Loud enough to cut through everything.

She jerked like someone had thrown cold water on her. Both her hands shoved hard at my chest. I stepped back just enough to give her space. She yanked her dress down with shaking hands and smoothed the fabric over her thighs again and again. Her face was bright red. Her breathing was still uneven and fast.

Chris stood in the doorway and stared. His eyes moved from her messy dress to the spot where my hand had just been under the fabric, then up to my face. 

The look he gave me was dark and full of danger. Like he wanted to swing at me right there in the kitchen.

I looked back at him and let a small smirk pull at the corner of my mouth.