His Accidental Heiress

Elena’s POV

"I'm sorry!" I gasp as soon as I walk in, but for some reason, I stay rooted to the spot, one hand covering my eyes and the door still open behind me. I hear his footsteps approach, and I seem to shrink into myself.

But he doesn’t touch me. Instead, I hear the door close behind me. When I pull my hands away from my eyes, he is watching me with an amused expression, but somewhere in his eyes is a tinge of anger.

It is hard for me not to stare at his body, and I can't help it as my eyes roam through the broad shoulders, well-toned abs, properly structured body, and a lean waist. He has the makings of someone who takes his gym life seriously, and that is saying a lot.

The only thing I have been able to manage consistently is my daily job at Café Black.

“Done staring?” he teases, pulling away from me and heading further into the room.

His room.

“You live here?” I find myself asking before I can stop the words from tumbling out of my lips. I should be apologizing for coming in here and maybe explaining that I am searching for the bathroom.

Instead, my eyes follow him around the room, that dry feeling in my throat back in full force. At least, now I know it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with needing water.

"What are you doing here?" He leans on the edge of his bed and wraps his hand across his chest. "Are you done flirting and laughing with the man downstairs?"

He sounds angry.

“Why are you angry?”

“Who says I am?”

“Your tone. You dared me to do that, so you don’t have a right to be….” My voice trails off when I realize this argument is all wrong. Whether he dared me or not, he still has no right to be angry with whoever I decide to talk to here at the party.

We didn’t come together.

Hell, I didn't even know he existed until tonight.

He angles his head. “So?”

“So, what?”

“Did you kiss him?”

I nod. “It was your dare, and the alternative was standing on the table and dancing with my clothes off. I chose the best option. You and your friends need to do better.”

He scoffs. “Who told you that? The lanky guy who kissed you?”

“His name is Elliot and he is a really nice person.”

The gray-eyed man shakes his head slowly. “Don’t be naïve. People aren’t nice. They just pretend to be until they get what they want.”

I shake my head. “You are just saying that because you have no bone of niceness in your body.”

“I don’t dispute that.”

Arguing with him is pointless.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

He points to the adjoining door, and I saunter in that direction, making sure to lock the door behind me while I do my business. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the wide-eyed, flushed-faced girl staring back at me.

My phone beeps in my purse, and I retrieve it. It is Elizabeth. She says she will be gone longer than she expected, but I can hang around the house till morning. The guest, Jaden, doesn't bite.

I haven’t even seen him all night.

Taking a deep breath, I wash my face and dry my hands. I still feel tipsy, but it doesn’t cloud my judgment.

When I return to the room, I meet the gray-eyed man in the far corner, his hands on the spines of books on the shelf. My feet shuffle in his direction, even though I know I should head in the opposite direction.

"Tess of D'Urberville," I whisper. "Is that the first edition?"

He turns around to face me as my fingers graze the spine.

“Yes,” he replies. “Just as every other thing in here is.”

I look up at him, having the feeling that he is no longer talking about his books. His gaze has darkened as he regards me from underneath his lashes. He seems to be waiting for something.

He moves slightly, turning his body so that he is towering over me, and my back is pushed into the shelf. Just like Elliot, he brings a finger underneath my chin and gears my face up to look at him.

But while Elliot feels warm and kind, with this man, it feels like I have been set on fire. Every part of my skin cackles with the heat and ferocity of that single touch, and I find my eyes fluttering close on their own accord.

My body presses into his, and a groan slips from his lips. His other hand touches my neck gingerly, fitting underneath my hair.

“Why have you never had sex?” he whispers, his deep-set baritone travelling through my body in waves. I do not have to answer him, yet I want to.

“I have never found the person worth it,” I reply, my heart thudding so hard against my chest that I am scared he will be able to hear it.

"There's nothing like a person worth it," he drawls, leaning impossibly closer to me. His warm breath caresses my face, and my lips part open. "You just decide whether you want to or not."

“Then, I guess I have never wanted to,” I whisper. “Not until now.”

That last bit seems to break whatever restraint he has, as his lips crash down on mine possessively. I gasp into his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue finds mine, and suddenly, I lose the ability to think.

My toes curl inwards as he cups the back of my neck, and the entirety of my being lets him have his way with me.

Because I want him to.

I bury my fingers in the strands of his thick black hair just as he picks me off the floor and walks with me to the bed. I lie back onto the soft sheets, and he comes in after me, his lips kissing every inch of my body like I am a literature text he is trying to remember every detail of.

Every piece of clothing comes off in a whisper, and I moan and thrash underneath him. And when we both lay naked, he whispers, “This should hurt a little,” before plunging into me.