Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

JULIEN

Stirring the sugar-cocoa-butter mixture for the homemade hot chocolate, I set the burner to low heat and allow things to bubble before pouring in the milk.

Jay comes to my side and peers into the pan. "Making enough to share?"

"No."

He's ignored me all week, and I'm not in the mood to pretend that he hasn't acted like an asshole.

He bumps my hip. "Ry told me what happened. I wanted to check on E… and on you. Is he asleep?"

I set the wooden spoon on a paper towel. "I drew him a bubble bath to relax in, then came in here to make his favorite hot cocoa."

"Can I help?"

And just like that, my irritation with him evaporates when I hear his concern.

"Grab the vanilla extract."

Jay opens the upper cabinet where we keep all the spices.

"Normal or extra vanilla- y ?"

"Elijah likes it vanilla- y ," I reply.

Jay measures out one teaspoon. He and I would make this every Christmas Eve. It was tradition.

"Marshmallows?" he asks.

"If we still have them." I think we have half a bag. If not, I can go pick some up from the grocery store.

Taking the pot off the burner, I get two mugs down and pass one to Jay when he comes back from the pantry.

"Elijah likes a mountain," I tell him.

"I know," Jay replies, adding a Mount Fiji amount of marshmallows to Elijah's cup before doing the same to his.

"Hey, Jules?"

I stop under the kitchen archway. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

I look at my twin. My other half. My best friend.

"Me, too."

"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Retracing my steps, I wrap my free arm around him. "Will do. Love you."

"Ditto."

Just as I go into the bedroom, the air conditioning kicks on, causing the tiny flames of the candles I lit to bend and dance on their wicks.

I find Elijah exactly where I left him in the tub. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady. If it weren't for the small smile, I would've thought he was fast asleep.

"I smell chocolate."

I sink to my haunches next to the garden tub. "Thought you might like some marshmallows. There may be a smidge of hot cocoa somewhere underneath."

He snort-laughs, and it's the cutest thing I've ever heard.

Setting the mug on the bath tray, I fold my arms over the lip of the tub and prop my chin on top of my folded hands.

"Feeling better?"

Elijah swims his fingers through the suds. "Much better."

I scoop some bubbles and drip them on his chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

Sitting up, he leans against the side of the tub and rests his cheek on my forearm.

"I scared the shit out of myself. I don't get it. I had no problem standing up to Justin, but going into the freaking bathroom at Belly's sends me into a goddamn panic attack. I feel all sorts of stupid."

"Please stop saying that. You're not stupid. You're the strongest fucking person I know. What happened tonight doesn't make you weak."

"You didn't freak out after what Marshall did to you."

I detest even hearing that asshole's name. I still carry the physical scars of what he did, but Elijah has suffered more at his hand. Years of bullying, abuse—sending Justin to terrorize him. I don't like to wish ill on people, but that fucker has it coming.

"I had you to be my light. Every time I start to drown, you save me. You're my hero, Elijah."

He hits me with those expressive hazel eyes. "You're my everything."

I brush my fingers up his neck. "I don't deserve it, but I love the way you see me."

"I saw you the second we met."

The double entendre isn't lost on me.

Soulmates recognize their other half. It's an internal instinct that surpasses logic or reasoning because it just is. Elijah saw me, but I saw him, too. My heart knew he was mine, but my soul knew he was my forever.

He presses his thumbs to the pads of each finger. "I'm starting to prune."

I grab a towel from the shelf and hold it open for him. When he stands, sudsy water streams down his body and flows over his chiseled musculature. He really is absolutely wonderful to look at. But that's physical beauty. Everything underneath his gorgeous exterior is what I love the most.

He climbs out of the tub, and I wrap the towel around his waist, tucking under one end to secure it, then hand him the hot chocolate.

"Up," I tell him, indicating I want him to sit on the vanity counter.

"Why?"

He licks at the melted marshmallow that oozed over the side of his mug, and my dick goes rock hard.

"So I can pamper you."

A pleased grin curves his mouth, and I can't resist the temptation to kiss the sticky sugar from his lips. Oh, the lurid ideas that come to mind about the things I'd like to do to him that involve dessert toppings.

Once he gets situated, I plug in the small hair dryer I keep handy.

"You're going to blow dry my hair?" he asks with a hefty amount of incredulity.

"Hush and enjoy."

I finger comb sections of his hair as I dry them, and the sybaritic sounds that come out of his mouth make my cock harder.

He needs tenderness, not fucking. Calm the hell down.

"I love your hair."

With his blond curls, Elijah is Michaelangelo's David personified.

"I need a haircut."

Turning off the dryer, I twirl a curl around my finger and watch it uncoil and slide over my knuckle.

"I like it a little longer. If it was shorter, I couldn't do this."

His breath catches when I fist his hair.

"Mmm, I see your point."

He grips the back of my neck and snares my waist with his legs, pulling me forward. His cock is hot and hard as he grinds against me.

"I want you." He rotates his hips, the evidence of his desire making me groan with need.

"Baby, I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"You are. Now shut up and fuck me."

The towel falls to either side of him when he yanks at the loose knot and takes his cock in his hand, stroking slowly.

The sight of him jacking off mainlines lust through my blood. It doesn't matter what my good intentions are, the lust wins.

Bracing my hands on the counter, I bend over and close my lips around the head of his cock, teasing the rim with my tongue.

His head falls back on a moan when I lick up his shaft from base to tip, tonguing the slit.

"Don't stop," he begs, pushing forward, demanding I take him deeper.

His spine hits the mirror when I toss his legs over my shoulders. And then I suck him off like a savage. It's dirty and noisy and has him coming down my throat within seconds, calling my name. Fucking beautiful.

He sighs. "I needed that."

"Baby, making you come is my second favorite thing in the world."

"What's your first?"

I smother his dick in kisses before raising up and crushing my lips to his.

"Kissing you."

"Take me to bed," he says, licking into my mouth.

His hands fumble to grab hold of me when I grab under his ass to lift him up, only to get my hands tangled in the damn towel.

"Problem?"

My heart fucking melts when he laughs.

Giving up, I carry him out of the bathroom, along with the towel, and toss him onto the bed. He scrambles to his knees, his hands eager to undress me.

"Clothes. Off. Now."

As soon as I pull my shirt over my head, Elijah's mouth is on me. Goose flesh explodes everywhere his lips travel, the resulting tingles shooting straight to my dick. His fingers fight to undo the button of my shorts. As soon as they slide down my legs, I kick them to the corner and fall on top of him. His legs spread wide to accommodate me as my weight presses him into the mattress.

That soul-deep connection we share spins its gossamer silk threads around us. Frantic turns to tender as our eyes meet, that one look conveying so much without us saying anything at all.

Elijah reaches up, his touch delicate on my mouth, my eyebrow, my forehead. His eyes glisten with emotion, the flecks of green shifting in an endless ocean of yearning.

"You are so beautiful."

I rarely blush, but damn if I don't feel the warmth singe my skin.

Elijah was wrong because this right here—him and the way he loves me—they are my everything .

Holding upright on my forearms, I bracket his face between my hands and brush his lips with pillowy kisses. Elijah draws intricate patterns on my back, each glide of his fingers a brand.

The silence between us grows thicker, the air filling with the scent of desire. We spend long minutes rediscovering one another through touch, mapping every curve and dip.

My tongue scorches a path down his neck, and he shivers in pleasure as my teeth graze his skin. Continuing my descent, his back arches off the bed as I lick a trail of fire down his chest to his abs.

His hands dive into my hair, a subtle tremble coursing through him as I nip the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs. Using my precum as lube, I rim his hole as I continue to kiss every inch of his body.

A moan rips from his chest when I sink two fingers inside him. They grow louder when I take him in my mouth, slicking his dick in spit.

With a final strong suck, I release him and crawl up his body, hooking his left thigh and pushing it up toward his chest. Guiding my cock to his entrance, his lips part in a silent moan when I ease the tip in. My eyes roll back in rapture at how tight he is. So fucking tight.

I take a moment to breathe him in, savoring the scent of his skin. The fragrance of us.

With one final, lingering kiss, I sink my cock into paradise.