Come to me

Elle laid on the floor for god knows how long, unable to stop shaking, she could smell the scent of the dogs, and of blood, still feel the kicks and punches, she kept touching her face expecting there to be blood. 

“Just a dream, just a dream,” She kept whispering, Unable to catch her breath, Elle stood up slowly, shaking uncontrollably, she pulled the comforter from the bed off, draping it around herself, she leaned against the bedpost, trying to calm herself. She absently ran her hands over her flat belly, as if she was sure she would feel a bump there. Tears ran down her face, and she was covered in sweat, but she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. The room felt cloying and claustrophobic, every second she was in it felt as if there was less air. She was choking and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand up right. Inhaling deeply, repeating over and over again that it was just a nightmare, Elle tried to pace, her knees gave out on her and she ended up in a heap on the floor. She sat there for a long moment, desperately trying to regain some control. 

With great difficulty she pulled herself up, standing on her shaking legs, she moved haltingly to the door opening it, again her legs gave out on her and she landed hard on her knees outside of the room, she whimpered in pain, and fear. Her whole body shivering, as she felt the room spinning around her, “Milo,” She said his name, anguished, tears free flowing down her face, the only person she wanted right now. She dragged herself forward and leaned against the wall between their bedrooms. She pressed her head back against the wall. Hyperventilating, she couldn’t seem to catch a breath, everything was tunneling now, turning black. 

“Schatje, what’s happening?” His concerned voice called to her, relief flooded her, as she felt him kneeling before her, his hands cupping her face.

“They kicked me, they killed my baby, my father…” She whispered brokenly, “Caleb, didn’t come.” She told him, tears streaming down her face. “I called for him, but he didn’t come.” He blinked in surprise, Caleb…the memories came to him then, raw and anguished.

“He did baby, he came.” He told her, gently wiping away her tears. “They caught him too, but he got free and then he came for you, and for our son.” His familiar face flickered for a second, showing sea green eyes instead of his piercing ice blue, his hair dark rich mahogany brown with gold streaks instead of his blond. 

“The baby, they took the baby away.” She told him, beyond heartbroken. He winced at her words.

“I know,” He replied finally, his voice wavering in grief, his own face heartbroken, “They killed our baby, but we saved our son,” He promised her. She grasped his face with her hands pulling him toward her, resting his forehead against hers, tears streaming.

“Why did they hate our skin so much?” She asked in a soft drawl, “You loved to see your hands against my skin…melted chocolate and caramel…” She whispered, looking at him with so much feeling, it stole Milo’s breath. 

“Leah,” He whispered, breathing her in.

“I missed you so,” She whispered, “I miss you all the time,” She closed her eyes then seemed to calm, laying against him. Milo pulled Elle into his arms, wrapping the comforter around her, carrying her into his room. 

“I missed you too, baby.” He whispered to her, heart aching. “So God damned much.” 

****

Milo woke up wrapped around Elle, breathing her in; he considered that he might be dreaming, because surely he couldn’t feel like this in the real world. He looked down at her still sleeping face, conflicted. Nothing in the world had ever felt more peaceful or like a homecoming than waking up to her, but the circumstances of her finding her way here…broke his heart. Whatever was happening to her was not pleasant for her, and seeing her in distress so strong that she shook and wept from it was easily the worst most helpless feeling he had ever had. He gently brushed her hair from her face, a pained expression on his, she couldn’t sleep by herself anymore he had decided last night. These nightmares were so powerful, she seemed to have to force herself from them. Her voice had even changed when she had spoken with him, and he had sworn for a second she hadn’t even looked like Elle, but rather Leah…Leah with her doe eyes, and dimpled smile, her thick curly hair, and strong southern drawl. He inhaled for calm, running his hand down her back soothingly, as he had done with Leah…when he was Caleb. He suspected she had dreamed about the brutal arrest she’d suffered for their unlawful interracial marriage, the one that had cost her not just the loss of their unborn baby, but also her father. 

Was she going to dream every horrific moment the two had shared in their multiple lifetimes together? Did I do this to her?Condemn her by my presence to relive every ugly, horrific moment between us?...and none of the good? He absently brushed the back of his knuckles tenderly against her jaw. He sighed darkly, he didn’t know how to help her, but it had seemed that she had taken comfort being in his arms, or near him while she slept. Certainly once she’d cried herself to sleep again, she hadn’t stirred, seeming to sleep soundly. He hated the idea of her only remembering the bad things, and he wondered now whether he should tell her about their lives, about how happy they had been, how much love they’d had between them, the camaraderie? How in every lifetime they’d had together they’d shared so much laughter, joy, and deep meaningful friendships? She was always my best friend. 

Last Night when she had whispered to him in Leah’s drawl that she had missed him…he had felt that so deeply like a wound. Because missing her was his default. How could he explain to her or indeed anyone what it felt like to know that she was out there, to have this depth of feeling for someone he had never even met, to long for her so badly that the only way he could function was to put up walls around himself? And the longer he was around her, the more he wanted her, the more he missed her, the more volatile his walls became. It was like he was coming out of a deep dark hole he had nested in, into the scorching sun. He had never let himself dwell too long in his feelings for her from his past lives, had always endeavored and mostly succeeded in viewing it clinically, logically, but now being faced with the flesh and blood embodiment of his soul's greatest desire? It was an agony of feelings that he sometimes feared would overwhelm him, and all the while he had to control himself, and ease her way to him. Because he desperately wanted her to feel safe with him, to feel comfortable, to never be afraid or mistrustful of him. 

He wanted to be around her constantly, could barely keep himself from touching her, and daily the draw to her was getting stronger and stronger. Like a magnetic pull he could barely contain. But he kept seeing her heartbreakingly terrified face in his mind’s eye, and he couldn’t help but fear he was the cause of her misery. Should he stay away from her, put distance between them? And then there was the Daire situation. He seethed with soul searing jealousy he could barely contain, anytime he saw them together, any time Daire looked at her, touching her; he itched to punch the younger man in the mouth. He felt constantly as if he was on a razor's edge of explosive tension, he could almost laugh at his own hubris to think he thought he could be detached about Daire making the moves on her. Had that only been 4 days ago? I want to fight him with my godverdomme fists, knock that smug shit eating grin from his wretched stupid face. He thought viciously. The world seemed to tilt on its axis whenever he saw Daire looking at her with that half smitten expression on his face when he thought no one was looking, and when he’d said she was special…You’re godverdomme right she’s fucking special, so special and precious an incomparable treasure, I would gladly break your jaw over. 

However the rational part of his brain knew he was being ridiculous, he had no right to feel the way he did about whatever was going on between them. To act on his jealous impulses would make him a crazy person in the eyes of all, but especially to Elle. Especially if she did have feelings for the wastrel. He flinched at that, unconsciously pulling her closer to him. His brother had said he should try and make her happier than Daire did, but then his idiot brother also seemed determined to cock-block the living piss out of him, while leaving Daire free to his own slutty devices. He blew out a frustrated breath. He didn’t just want her physically, he wanted all of her, intrinsically he wanted to take care of her. He had a deep seated yawning need to protect her, to spoil her, to make her happy. And he was roundly and solidly failing at every turn. He groaned inwardly, frustrated.

Well…not every turn. He genuinely hadn’t tried spoiling her. He blinked as he considered that, remembering his conversation with his mother the day before. He watched her deep even breathing, tenderness suffused him. 

“Alles wat ik heb is van jou,” He whispered to her. Everything I have is yours.

****

Elle stirred from her dreamless sleep, feeling warm and safe…which could only mean one thing. Especially since she could feel his strong body enwrapping her from behind. Rationally she realized she should feel some sort of awkwardness about it, but she couldn’t bring herself to at the moment. Surrounded by his intoxicating scent, the heat radiating from his jaw dropping body, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the soft comforting beat of his heart? Pure bliss. Unbidden, the reason for her current state came back to her, and Elle shuttered. She could vaguely remember the nightmare, just impulses and flashes, but as she lingered in the thought, it became more clear. She harshly pushed it aside, refusing to think about it. The list of unwanted thoughts just piling up babe, you are going to have to deal with this eventually. Sure, but not today, not right now. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. She closed her eyes savoring his sleep deepened rasp. She felt him shift and looked up to see him raised up on his forearm watching her, his brows furrowed with worry. Elle turned, tilting her head she ran her fingertips lightly against the furrow, wanting to sooth him. He blinked, his face softening soulfully, looking lost at her tenderness.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” She whispered, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I’m sorry I keep turning up in your bed like this, I promise I’m not some crybaby, normally.”

“Don’t apologize,” He told her, now resting his face on his hand, his head tilted as he did that assessing thing she was becoming very familiar with, “I don’t think you are a crybaby, these nightmares are…intense.” 

“Vivid, but there’s really no excuse for acting like a giant bitch baby, I’m sorry I keep involving you in my bullshit.” She told him, self-effacingly.

“Elle, I found you on the floor outside your room, still in the nightmare, hyperventilating in terror” He began gently, “How is anyone supposed to handle that alone?” 

“It's not that bad,” She told him, her face paling as she tried not to remember the choking cloying feeling she’d had while she had all but crawled to him.

“It is that bad,” He interrupted, frowning, “Schatje when I see you like that, it’s…upsetting” 

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to upset you,” She told him, feeling guilty. “ I feel like I’ve ruined your nights repeatedly.”

“No Elle, I don’t think you understand me, I’m not upset,” He told her bemused, “When I see your distress it…pains me for you.”  He rasped, his tone raw with feeling. Elle’s eyes widened in surprise, helpless not to stare at his handsome face. Her heart pounding at his admission, he hurts for me.

“No one should be alone when they are frightened,” He finished. Elle quickly hid her disappointment at the statement, this wasn’t some declaration of his concern for her specifically, she reasoned, but rather he was just a kind, compassionate man. “I don’t think you should sleep alone anymore, I worry you may hurt yourself."

“I’m imposing on you,” She told him, her face flaming. “I’m okay, I’ll be okay on my own.” She whispered, as she moved to get up. He reached out grasping her shoulder stopping her.

“You are not imposing on me, in any way.” He told her firmly. “We don’t have to sleep in the same bed if that’s your concern, I can take the couch,” He told her gesturing to a large seating area in front of the bed, with a large couch, and two smaller matching chairs. Elle followed his hand and stared. In her previous foray into his room she had not really looked around, having been too busy retreating in embarrassment.

She looked around now, taking in his enormous room. Holy shit it's almost bigger than my whole apartment! She thought wildly. The room was a large oval, with massive bay windows on opposing sides of large double french doors that she assumed led onto a balcony, his enormous bed was in the center of it, matching nightstands on either side. The furniture was tasteful and beautiful, a rich dark cherry wood that complimented the pastel blue and purple sheets, window coverings and couch. In a word it was elegant, and Elle instantly loved it.

“If anyone should be sleeping on the couch it’s me.” She said, finally drawing her attention back to Milo, just missing his tiny smile of satisfaction. She likes our room. He thought smugly.

“Absolutely not,” He told her sharply, “What kind of an ass do you take me for?”

“Neither of us has to sleep on the couch,” She conceded, “I can sleep in the other room,”

“Elle, that’s clearly not working out, look I’ll sleep on the couch, you take the bed, I insist,” He cajoled, holding his hand up when she began to argue further, “Elle, I won’t be able to sleep worrying about you anyways, at least this way we both get to sleep, you have to admit you don’t seem to have the nightmares, here with me.”  Elle worried her bottom lip with her teeth, he did have a point. In fact in the midst of her fear last night she had only one clear thought and that had been to get to him…

“We can both sleep in the bed, that’s what we’ve been doing anyways,” She agreed finally. It was not a difficult choice, if she was being honest. Who wouldn’t want to spoon with this magnificent man? She thought.

“Good, then we agree, you’ll sleep here from now on?”  He asked her, barely stifling his enthusiasm over the idea.

“I mean I keep ending up here anyways,” She conceded. He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Elle had to restrain herself from sighing over him. This might be a massive mistake…

****

Milo had offered to clear space for her in his closet, but Elle had blanched at the idea, they were just having an extended sleepover she told him, not moving in together. He had let it drop, even if he thought it was a bit ridiculous for her to run back and forth between rooms. But he was determined not to make the arrangement uncomfortable for her in the least, he could see relying on him was a huge concession for her, and he didn’t want to corner her further. So when she had left his room to shower and change, he had restrained from suggesting she simply use his en suite, and let her go. Now as he stood in his shower, the warm water pouring over him, he considered his situation with her. 

He would be lying if he said the idea of her spending every night in his bed with him wasn’t deeply satisfying to him. Already his sheets smelt of her warm womanly scent, rose and vanilla, and when she left his room she had smelled lightly of his cologne, wearing another of his hoodies, this one a deep ocean blue. He had slipped the hoodie on her the previous night when she had been shaking relentlessly, she had held her arms up for him, allowing him to dress her with no reaction and from her lack of comment this morning, no remembrance of it.  However she had absently drawn his hoodie around her this morning, inhaling the scent. It had been all he could do not to wrap her in his arms and press her to his chest so she could have his scent from the source.

Seeing her leave his room draped in his scent, in his clothes was so deeply satisfying he had had to work to restrain himself from sighing over it. Already he was considering what piece of clothing he could foist on her next. He had t-shirts he might convince her to wear to bed, or maybe a button down he might wrap her in. This is an oddly specific thing I’m into. He thought, scrubbing his hand over his mouth as he considered it. Truth be told the only thing he found more intriguing was the idea of stripping her down…slowly, divesting her of every piece of clothing until he came down to that oh so tantalizing hot pink bra and panty set she’d given him a peak of when she’d got caught ‘eye-banging’ him.

 He would lay her out on his bed, running his hands over her soft luscious body, pressing kisses at her collarbone, throat, down her flat stomach, spreading her legs wide for him, he would trail his lips against her inner thighs, nipping her there. Cupping her perfect breast in his hand, over her bra, before removing it, catching the edge of her panties with his other hand, running his finger tips over her hip bone, teasing her. Slowly trailing kisses where his hands were, before he’d finally grasp the fabric with his teeth and pull it from her body, exposing her sex to him. He would spread her gently with his thumbs, before bringing his mouth to her there. Make her cum for me, only for me…He groaned at his own fantasy, his cock jerking in pleasure at the idea. The rapidly cooling water doing nothing to dissuade him from his heated thoughts. 

“De dingen die ik je zou aandoen, mooi schepsel” He growled, pressing his heated forehead against the cool stone of his shower.  The things I would do to you, beautiful creature.

****

Elle did what she did best, stew. Freshly cleaned and dressed she lay on her bed…well not her bed anymore she supposed. She couldn’t believe she had agreed to their arrangement, more surprising was that he had suggested it at all. Sure his motives were altruistic, but Elle’s were decidedly not. Who in their right mind would say no to cuddling up with that man?! But surely he was getting absolutely nothing besides a headache out of this. Because he wasn’t nearly as attracted to her as she was to him…right? There was simply no way, and yet….yet he had backed her up against the counter, he had asked to kiss her, he had been vibrating with fury when his twin interrupted them… was he…was he attracted to her? Or…he was trying to see if he could be attracted to her, since he believed that she was his ‘soulmate’. 

He hadn’t seemed all that bothered to see her off with Daire, had actually told them to have a good time as she recalled, shouldn’t he have been…seething with jealousy, instead of completely unbothered? Maybe he was doubting that she was his soulmate? And asking her to kiss him was to see if he felt anything for her? That seemed logical if painful. In Elle’s estimation she was exactly no one's object of desire. Had certainly never been anyone’s fantasy, couldn’t have gotten a second date to save her life, and she was supposed to believe that this man, this dreamed-out-of-her-wildest-fever-dream-man wanted her? Fucking ludicrous.

He had a body that looked like it had been sculpted purely for sex, sheer perfection. She wanted to do so many, many lurid things to him, the least of which was kiss him. 

Oh and how she wanted to kiss him, to grab his shirt and drag him to her mouth, wrap her arms around his neck. In front of a mirror so they could both watch as she ripped his shirt from his body, kissing his neck, running her tongue down the hard planes of his chest, all the way down his impossibly sexy torso to his goody trail,which she  hoped was as blond as the hair on his head. Rip open his jeans, taking his shaft in her hand as she kneeled down in front of him, taking him into her mouth.  All the while watching them in the mirror.  Make him scream my fucking name…

Elle pressed her trembling fist to her mouth, stifling a moan at the intensity of her own fantasy. She pulled the blue hoodie she was still wearing from this morning around her, inhaling his scent, allowing her imagination to run wild.

“The things I would do to you, dutchman….” She moaned under her breath. 

****

Elle roamed the grounds around the cabin idly, she had been avoiding everyone all morning and was now trying to find a secluded place to read in peace. She felt pent up and too overwrought to be around Milo yet, almost as if once she’d allowed herself to fantasize about Milo she couldn’t get a grip on her dangerous thoughts. She genuinely felt like if she saw him she might pounce on him, which was probably not going to go over well, probably.

As she wandered to the pool, Elle again contemplated going up to it to explore, surely no one would be out there right now? She took a fleeting step up the stairway, before deciding better of it. Another time, she thought, as she walked around the area. Going straight instead of toward the trees as she’d done last time. As she walked around the hill that the pool sat on, she noticed a secondary terrace attached to the pool area, a large lounging area replete with outdoor wicker couches and seats and what looked like an outdoor kitchen all shaded by a large wooden awning that took up most of the terrace and more of a structure behind. In the center of the seating area was a large glass fire table, filled with what looked like black and clear stones. In the dark once lit, that table would glitter, she was sure.  The only way onto the terrace was via the staircase for the pool. The terrace was placed atop a large arch, underneath which were a set of large glass double doors that lead into what looked like a separate structure from the rest of the house. The seating area was clearly on the roof of this small building. Which unlike the rest of the house that was sided in wood, was made of rustic brick.

Curious, Elle walked to the doors and tried them, they were locked, and there was a shade pulled down in the door blocking her sight. Sighing Elle decided to walk on, around the corner of the small building she found a delicately carved  wooden bench, shaded by a few trees. Perfect. 

Several hours passed in sweet silence as Elle devoured her book, unawares. It was getting chilly and she had wished she’d thought to bring a jacket, she pulled Milo’s hoodie closer around her, reminding herself that she had to return this one. She tucked her legs under her and continued reading, stopping only a few more times over the course of the day to adjust herself, or huddle to warm herself. By the time evening fell, Elle had almost completed the large paperback novel she had brought out with her. She only stopped because the light was becoming too dim for her to read. Rubbing her slightly over strained eyes, she got up and stretched, cracking her back, and neck. Now that she was no longer engrossed in her book, she could concede that she was stiff and really cold. She headed back to the main house, teeth chattering by the time she got to the door. 

She opened the door as quietly as she could, determined to sneak in and up to her room as quickly as she possibly could, without drawing attention to herself. She had made it all the way to the staircase, stepping one foot onto it.

“Sneaking in, lass?” Daire asked from behind her, Elle dropped her book startled. 

“Keep it down,” She hissed, turning to face him, looking behind him to see if anyone else had noticed her. Thankfully no one else was around.

“Listen, can nae say as I blame you for wanting to make yourself scarce, but what’s the plan here lass?” He asked her in a conspiratorial whisper. 

“The plan is to get upstairs without drawing attention to myself, which a 6 foot tall red-headed demon is not helping me with!” She growled at him.

“6’3 thank you,” he whispered haughtly. 

“Go away!” She spat at him, turning to rush up the stairs. Like a flash he grabbed her wrist. Elle lost her footing and fell backward crying out in surprise. Daire caught her wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her toward himself. 

“Oh shite,” He breathed, clearly startled himself, “One bawhair away from a swift kick up my arse, fuck me.” 

“You douche!” She growled, breathing hard herself. She itched to kick him in the shin. 

“Now I ken this is a weird concept, but some people thank people for saving their lives,” He told her.

“Oh yes thank you for saving me from the certain death that is a 1 foot drop off 3 stairs” She retorted the sarcasm dripping from her words. “That you caused, I might add.”

“Ah lass, if you wanted me to hold you, all you had to do is ask,” He replied sweetly, Elle rolled her eyes, laughing at the stupidity of the entire situation. But it didn’t look very funny to Milo who had run out of the kitchen when he’d heard her cry out, nothing about the tableau in front of him was funny. 

Jealousy burned in his chest as he saw the two of them, too far to hear their conversation. Elle’s merry face alight with humor, Daire with his arm around her waist pressing her against him. When all day she had been avoiding him, it looked as if she hadn’t been able to wait to see Daire. 

He clenched his fists in agitation, he hadn’t seen her all day, deciding to give her space, but eventually he’d gone looking for her concerned, following the path she had taken last time she had wandered the property. If not for her car remaining in the driveway he would have thought she had left the house. Had she been with Daire this entire time? He wanted to rip Elle from his grasp, and throttle the self satisfied smirk right off Daire ‘s face.  He’s fucking holding her while she’s still wearing my godverdomme sweater?! Exhaling a furious breath, he made a hasty retreat back to the kitchen, sitting down heavily at the island. 

This wouldn’t do, he had to get a grip of himself. This thing with Elle was making him crazy. He felt like he was one shit-eating grin away from murder, and that might be understating the issue. He had to put distance between himself and the problem, it was simply the only logical course of action. Of course the problem seemed to be attached at the hip to his deepest soul aching desire…whom he had invited to sleep in his bed with him. He blew out an exasperated breath, tapping his fist into the palm of his other hand. What to do…what to do? It all came down to Elle, and how she felt. She was definitely attracted to him, but there seemed to be attraction between her and Daire as well. Certainly he kept catching them…entangled. No longer tapping, now punching his palm, he clenched his teeth. The logical thing to do would be to distance himself from the whole situation, to let Daire and Elle pursue a relationship…

“Zo van fuck zal ik het logische doen!” He muttered angrily. Like fuck will I be doing the logical thing! 

He could and would make her happier than Daire did, than any other man could, because he simply had to. Milo was not an arrogant man, but he was well aware of how determined, dogged and indeed ruthless he could be in the pursuit of what he wanted. In the business world he was wildly successful, when he had taken over as COO at 24 it had been at best a controversial decision and at worst all out panned by the board, but he had proven himself over and over again.He was ruthlessly efficient, organized, and he had a mind like a steel trap, he thought like a strategist, because that’s what he had been multiple times over. He had led armies, held and repelled seizes, ran multiple campaigns and died defending the ones he’d loved, more than once. He had ridden into battle on horseback, on a ship, on a boat, on foot, and a cart once, though that one had not quite worked out for him, nevertheless he was fearless, collected, and fierce when he had to be. They hadn’t once called him Aiden the ferocious for nothing. His calm demeanor often made people underestimate him, even think he was a push over, they learned to their detriment that Milo Van Ee got what he wanted, when he wanted, and if you got in his way…more fool you.

And Milo had never wanted anything the way he wanted Elle…

****

Elle was buried in a book again, this time curled up on the window box in her room. She had absolutely been reading this entire time, not coyly peaking at Milo’s shirtless run around the property. She definitely had not ogled the living shit out of him when he stopped to do pull ups in between sets, or strained her eyes to watch for his return. She had absolutely not worked herself into a lather about his powerful muscular body, straining and flexing for the 45 minutes he had been out there, before heading in the direction of the pool. And she most certainly had not been fantasizing about him skinny dipping in the pool, with the light from the fire table illuminating his sweat drenched body, that she would not want to run her hands, lips and tongue over…slowly.  

She groaned under her breath now as she watched him head back from the pool with just a towel around his hips, pressing her hot face into the cool glass of the window. Torture, sweet, sweet torture, watching that towel sway dangerously low. Now Elle was not saying she would sell everything she had and shave her head for that towel to drop, but she was not not saying that. Sorry Cece, you have to go…

But alas he made it out of her view, towel intact. Which of course was fine, Elle definitely did not want to see him fully naked in the moonlight, that was absolutely not a fevered fantasy she’d been nursing since she’d first seen him run by.  What is this stupid book even about?! 

Milo smirked as he seriously considered doubling back past her window, get an eyeful, eyebang me to your heart's content, lekker ding. Has an endearment ever been more accurate? She IS a godverdomme delicious thing. He felt exhilarated, knowing her eyes had been on him relentlessly, pushing her little heated face into that window, biting her lip with desire. It was all he could do not to preen for her, and he had, like a fucking peacock. Did he need to do pull ups every time he stopped by her window? Probably not, had it had the desired effect on his little mate? Absolutely it had! She had looked as if she was coming undone. Every.Single.Time. Top that Daire! 

He was playing to win, so if she was attracted to him then that’s the cards he would play. Was it a touch manipulative, possibly, probably, definitely… But, did he care that he was playing a bit dirty? Absolutely not! If he had to parade himself in front of her, like a prized bull, then that’s what he would do. As he headed to his room, only one thought blazed in his mind. I will do anything, absolutely anything to have this woman.

****

It was getting late as Elle sat quietly in the kitchen sipping the matcha tea she had made. She knew she should head up to bed soon, but she was nervous. She had ended up sleeping in the same bed  with Milo without any conscious decision prior to this, but tonight was going to be different, tonight she would have to go in there, fully aware, fully conscious, fully…well Elle. She did not exactly have the best track record with the man, or indeed any man. It didn’t help that she was helplessly attracted to Milo to the point of distraction. As she had contemplated heading to his room, she had been inundated with fantasies of finding him there in various states of undress. Completely overwrought and flustered she had found herself fleeing, like the veriest pussy that I have apparently become! Elle Sighed. 

Typically Elle wasn’t particularly shy or reticent about whom she found attractive. But then she also typically aimed for sure things. Elle wasn’t necessarily afraid of rejection, but humiliation was a different thing altogether, and if she was being honest she couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than shooting her shot with Milo and being rejected by him. She simply could not wrap her head around the idea of a man with his considerable…assets being interested in someone like her, soulmate or not. She wasn’t sure how to behave around him, as it seemed she had absolutely no control of herself with him whatsoever. Half the time she felt like she was on the edge of grabbing him with both hands, and others…she wanted to run away in sheer terror of her own feelings. It didn’t help that these horrific nightmares she’d been having these last few nights had left her bereft of peace, and the only thing that seemed to make her feel even the slightest bit normal, was him. The dependence on him, this man she barely knew? For someone so accustomed to handling her problems almost entirely on her own, the situation of depending on him, left her terrified. Depending on someone gave them a certain power over you, the ability to leave you when you needed them most, and in Elle’s experience people could be trusted to do exactly two things, act in their own self interest and leave you when you needed them most. 

Elle hadn’t had what she would classify as a bad life, or a particularly difficult one. But she knew loss, she knew betrayal and she knew that you couldn’t trust anyone to have your best interests at heart. Running her hands through her hair in frustration she considered her predicament, she could go back to her room and sleep there alone…and probably wake up screaming. Or she could go to his room, embarrass herself, go to sleep and…possibly wake up screaming anyways. She placed her face in her hands and sighed deeply.

Milo watched her covertly from the doorway, surprised at the turmoil on her beautiful face. What are you thinking that troubles you so? He had come looking for her when she hadn’t come to bed, worried that she might have changed her mind. Seeing her here looking both exhausted and clearly perturbed concerned him deeply. Had she fallen asleep and woken to a nightmare again? Somehow he doubted that, so then what was happening here? 

Watching her was becoming a bit of a passtime for him, he had to admit, he found her fascinating. The way she moved, her open expressions, the way her face would light up when she had an amusing thought, her contemplative distant stares, the fevered way he sometimes caught her looking at him…The way her delicate hands moved,  the light caressing way she touched things, cups,cutlery, the railings of their house…him. Her soft palms against his chest, the way she grazed his jaw with her knuckles, the maddening way she had curled her fists into his shirt when they had almost kissed…right there against the island. He blew out a shaking breath. He could back her into that island again, lift her onto it, tilt her pretty fine boned face up to his, brush his lips against hers, slowly, oh so slowly, would she get that hazy dreamy smile he had seen when she’d gazed longingly at the pool? Or would she turn heated and fevered, biting her lip looking at him like she had right before Max had interrupted them? He would grasp her nape, to hold her close while he kissed the breath from her, his hands clenched and unclenched as he longed to touch her. Next time I go to kiss you, I won’t stop until you're panting for me, nothing, nothing is going to stop me. If he had to throw something at whomever he would!

As if she could sense his intense reverie she gazed up at him. Her eyes flashed as she took in his face, whatever she saw there clearly startled her. He worked to school his features, tilting his head to study her.

“Matcha?” She said softly after a long tense moment, holding up the cup in her hand. He didn’t trust himself to say anything so he simply nodded. She got up, and moved to the kettle, giving him her back. “Vanilla, Strawberry or salted caramel?” She asked without looking at him.

“What are you drinking? He asked, his gravelly rasp sending a warm tingle down her spine.

“Vanilla, but I should warn you it's glittery.” She told him, still not looking at him. Turn around Elle, look at me. 

“Glittery?” He repeated, moving toward her, wanting no, needing to be closer to her.

“It...it has edible glitter in it.” She explained, tonelessly. She could feel him behind her now, though he had not touched her. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming from her shakily.

“Hmmm,” He intoned, she shivered with sensation. Never had Elle realized how sexy a man’s voice could be. With profound gentleness, she felt his hand cup the side of her face, turning her to look at him over her shoulder. His eyes danced with unspoken promises as he looked down at her, his hand on her face lightly stroking her jaw, teasingly. Her lips parted on a shaky breath, and as if enraptured his eyes locked onto her mouth, his own breathing becoming ragged. With infinite tenderness he ran his thumb slowly sensually over her full bottom lip, biting his own.  She gazed up at his eyes helplessly, when he took his hand from her face. Bringing his thumb to his own mouth, ensuring she was watching him he ran the tip of his tongue against it, closing his eyes as if savoring the taste of her lips.  “Looks like gold dust, tastes like vanilla,” He said in an undertone, the timbre of his voice feeling like a caress. 

It took her a minute to process what he was saying, she ran her own fingers against her lips and looked to see glitter on her finger tips. 

“L…let me make you a cup.” She stammered out shakily, looking away to hide her flaming face. He placed his hands down on the counter on either side of her, his arms surrounding her, without touching her. His face mere inches from the nape of her neck, so close she could feel his breaths against her heated skin, each one sending a pleasurable tingle down her spine. Her hands shook as she poured the warmed water into the matcha bowl, his big hands reached out, steadying them.

“Careful,” He breathed, “Don’t burn yourself, schatje.’

“What…what does that mean? You keep calling me that.” She whispered, her body stilling, as she felt him breathe her scent in.

“Hmmm, it means little treasure,” He whispered against her ear, sending a spike of sensation shooting through her lower belly, making her feel weak kneed.

“Why…why…?” She couldn’t even string words together.

“Because when I look at you, I feel like I’ve won some cosmic lottery.” He murmured, bringing his face closer to her neck, so close it felt like a touch. “I see you standing in my house, sitting at my table, laying in my bed, and it feels like the greatest victory of my life.” 

“I’m no prize,” She whispered back. He placed both hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him, his head tilted to take in her expression, whatever he saw there clearly vexed him, causing his brows to furrow.

“You are to me.” He told her finally, his big hand cradling her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. 

“Because you think I’m your soulmate?” She asked, the thought having just occurred to her, grimacing slightly as she said it.  “You don’t really feel like you have a choice do you?”

“What?” He asked, confused, slightly dazed. The scent and heat of her perfect petite body so close to his, was drugging, maddening, oh so sweet.

“You don’t have a choice, you have to want me right? Because you and your insane family think I’m your soulmate? You have to make yourself feel something for me, because if you don’t then you have to walk away from this thing you’ve convinced yourself is true.” She told him, stepping back from him, her back pressing against the counter.  “This isn’t real, this is…two people in an impossible situation. I’ve been attacked, you feel responsible, and you…you have spent years? Maybe your whole life looking for this woman you’ve dreamed about, and here I am, and you have no choice now.” 

“Elle…” He began feeling as if she had slapped him.

“No, stop. This is insane, this whole thing, our emotions are heightened, and in the real world, men that look like you do not end up with women like me.” She told him firmly.

“Women like you?” He repeated, stunned.

“Plain women, women with ‘character’” She told him. 

“So you think I’m shallow is that it?” He asked her carefully, barely keeping his tone even. 

“I didn’t say shallow…” She began.

“No but you heavily implied it,” He retorted, “You think that because of the way I look, I would only be interested in a certain type of woman? Tell me Elle, what type of woman should I be after?”

“Women like Maeve, tall and…and beautiful,” She told him fiercely. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,”

“And you don’t think you're beautiful? You don’t think that I would find you beautiful?” He asked her, his temper flared. Seriously?! 

“Why you? No one else ever has?” She whispered, her voice breaking slightly, though she steeled her gaze at him. He pushed back from the counter, scrubbing a  frustrated hand to his mouth. He had not seen this coming! Who in the hell has told this gorgeous, perfect woman, MY fucking woman that she wasn’t enough? I’ll kill them!

“I’m sorry you’ve surrounded yourself with stupid, shallow, idiotic men, but I won’t be grouped in with them.” He told her, “You are beautiful, so fucking beautiful, more than that you glow from the inside, being around you is like…” He gestured around him.

“Don’t, don’t do that!” She all but yelled, her hands shaking, her face stark. “Don’t…don’t get my hopes up, don’t make me think you feel this way about me, when you’ve only known me for days.” 

“Get your hopes up…” He inhaled deeply, angrily, hurting for her. “Elle…”

“You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to…the soulmate thing, even if it's true, you don’t have to settle for this. We can be friends, we don’t have to be more, you don’t have to pretend to have feelings for me.” She whispered to him.

“Doen alsof? Doen alsof je gevoelens voor je hebt?! Neuk me!Ik kan niet om je heen denken!” Pretend? Pretend to have feelings for you?!Fuck me! I can’t think around you! He groaned, covering his face with his hand in frustration. 

“What?” She asked, startled at his tone.

“I can’t do this with you, I will say something I regret, '' He mumbled darkly, “Je maakt me gek!” You make me crazy! He growled, storming out of the kitchen. He made it all the way to the stairs before he turned around and stormed right back in, startling Elle. “You come to me when you’re ready to go to bed, this” He gestured between them, “doesn’t change that,”

“I…” Elle began, flustered.

“It’s either you come to me, or I come to you,” He told her firmly. “I don’t care which one, I can’t sleep worrying about you, so you decide how you want to handle that.” He told her, leaving her no room to respond he turned and left, growling angrily in Dutch. 

Elle stared after him, her own emotions in turmoil.

****

Moonlight suffuses the valley she has found, the center of which stands a small beautiful lake, quietly reflecting the full moon to her. Surrounded on all sides by large and imposing trees. A smile alights her face, the heavenly smells of clean water, grass and lilacs fills her nostrils. She breathes it in deeply, evergreen and vetiver follows. She finds a flat rock outgrowth to sit upon, gently she dips her toes into the lukewarm water, sighing as she does so. Looking around to ensure no one is around, she carefully unlaces and removes her dress, laying it down on the cool clean grass far from the water. With careful and deft fingers she unbraids her long dark hair, allowing it to tumble down her back, looking around furtively she reaches for her veil, when she hears the splash of water from the otherside of the lake. Ducking back into the trees she gazes out to see what has caused the disturbance.

He surfaces,pushing his water darkened mane from his face, he glides forward to a shallow spot, standing up, water sluicing down his wide shoulders, broad muscular chest, defined torso, over his lean hips back into the lake. The moonlight shines lovingly upon his comely face, casting his body into relief. His body is hard and strong, a warrior's build. The muscles of his chest and shoulders ripple as he rolls them back, stretching himself. She gasps out a breath, for truly she has never seen a more beautiful sight. He turns sharply to the sound, she darts back into the dark, but it’s too late his keen eyes catch her.

“You avoid me in daylight, but now I feel your eyes on me lass,” He calls to her his broque sending a shiver down her spine. She says nothing, watching him covetously, on the edge of her resolve. Should she run? When all she wishes is to stay? To look upon this man. “Let me see you lass,” 

As if incapable to deny him, she finds herself moving forward out of the tree line, standing at the edge of the lake, as she moves toward him, her hands begin to shake, never has she wanted more to touch a man. 

“That’s it mo’ ghraidh,” He breathes, his eyes traveling her body like a caress. She watches him as he gazes at her. Her thin shift clings to her body, she feels the fabric against her skin, the cotton rasping against her with her every ragged breath. Unable to help herself, her eyes trail down his body taking in every part of him, the scars upon his shoulder, chest and torso, the light dusting of hair that leads like a trail down, slowly her gaze moves down to that most intimate part of him, hidden under the water, her face flushes as she glances back at him, a slow soft smile crosses his face. “Is that the way of it?” He whispers, “Do you wish to see me? you had only to ever ask.” She shivers at the silken sound of his deep voice. “Bid me to step forward for you, bid me to show you my body lass,”

“I can not…” She whispers, breathing hard, never has she wanted anything more than this, but how can she ask such a thing? How could she control herself, when day and night this man plagues her thoughts, robs her of sleep, makes her ache in the most exquisite way. 

“Why no’?” He asks, “Are you afraid lass? Have you never seen a man fully in the nude?” He presses. She shakes her head, her face flaming. He looks at her tenderly, “Are you afraid of me?” 

“No…” She whispers back surprised at the truth of it. She did not fear him, but her desire for him. “I’m not afraid of you, but of…what may happen.” She admits to him. He looks at her for a long moment, contemplating.

“What if I make a vow to you, I am a man of my word and of honor,” He tells her, “Would you take my word?”

“What...what sort of vow?” She asks, gazing at him with wide eyes.

“I would no’ take advantage of this, we would just look our fill of each other, I could vow to no’ leave the water till you had gone your way,” He offers.

“We?” She asks.

“Oh aye lass, if you wish to see my body, then I must insist I see yours. T’would only be fair, tit for tat,” He tells her, his eyes climbing her body slowly. 

“Na…naked?” She whispers, her body clenches with desire. Never has she wanted to show her body to another, but now…she wishes to show him, to stand before him in the pale light of the moon, and have him gaze upon her. 

“I would go first, would that please you?” He asks, his voice a deep rumble, his broque thick. “Would you like to see what my body does when I am near you, when I think of you at night, when I am maddened by the scent of you in my keep, and in my library?”  She nods her head, unable to find the words. “Then tell me lass, ask me to show you, bid me to come forward for you. But know, I will want like for like, I will want to see every inch of your honeyed skin, for I am a greedy man and can settle for no less.” 

“Aiden…Aiden please…I want to see you.” She whispers, trembling with unspent passion.  His eyes flash, he tilts his head up, a triumphant look upon his handsome face. 

“Then look you’re fill, lass.” He tells her, moving forward slowly, stepping further into the shallow part of the lake. Her breath catches as he moves sinuously, his muscles rippling and flexing as he comes toward her, stopping at the edge of the lake, his feet still in the water. Her breath leaves her as she takes in his magnificent body. His broad shoulders, tapering into his narrow hips, the muscles that cord around his ribs and down his muscular flat stomach, down further to the trail of red hair that leads down, down to his manhood. Here her gaze lingers, for he had been right, never had she seen a man nude. And as she watched his length distend in front of her very eyes, she realized she would never see a man more pleasing than this. As if privy to her thoughts the muscles of his lower torso pulse, his body shutters softly. 

“Ah mo bhanrigh bheag bhòidheach,what your eyes on me do to me…” He groans, his fists clench and unclench, as if he wishes to reach for her.

“I am not familiar with Gaelic, what does this mean?” She asks, breathlessly.

“My beautiful little queen,” He tells her, piercing her with his eyes. 

“I am no queen.” She whispers, looking away. “Far from it.”

“Look at me Simrin, look at me and tell me you do not rule me, that you do not have dominion over all of me, you are MY queen.” He tells her fiercely. “Look how my body aches for you, look at how my heart beats for you, look at me lass.” She does look, her lips part as she watches his body, as if in answer, her sex clenches, aching for him, her nipples strain against the fabric of her shift, his eyes rivet to them. He scrubs his hand against his mouth, looking wild and lost, and heated.  

“Take the veil from your face, let me look upon the woman who bespells me so,” He whispers, his eyes blazing as he pins her with his gaze. Her hands shake with nervousness and excitement, never has she had the power to decide whom to show her face to, never had she wanted to more. As she pulls the veil from her face, she lowers her eyes, what will he think of her now, will it please him? She waits for him to say something, waits for a sound, but nothing comes forth, she looks up at him now concerned. But when her eyes raise to his handsome face, there can be no question. He looks as if he may never breathe again, as if her very countenance has rendered him unable to speak, his expression one of awe. 

“Will you leave me in suspense,” She asks, “Does my face suit?”

“A thousand ships were launched for a lesser face,” He whispers reverently. Emboldened by his reaction, she moves her shaking hands to her shift, and begins to remove it. Giving him her back, overcome by her vulnerability, she allows the shift to drop to her feet. Her body trembles, and breath comes out ragged. 

“Look at me lass,” He whispers long moments after, his voice warm and encouraging. “Mo bhanrigh bheag bhòidheach.”

She turns to him slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, she bravely meets his eyes. And he looks at her; his gaze passing over her body slowly. A look of such raw desire and passion there, that it is now her that is awed.

“When I was a wee lad, my father took me and my braithair to France with him, he took us to see works of the masters. Beautiful paintings of such splendor I wept to look upon them. Such divine works as though the hand of God himself had created.” He tells her his voice filled with wonder, “So I hope you will no’ take it lightly when I say you are by far the most beautiful creation I have ever laid my eyes on.” 

Unbidden the corner of her lips quirk up, a smile barely begun. 

“Ah Lass, I have to kiss you, will you let me?” He asks, his voice tender and deep. “A kiss and no more.” She looks at him uncertain. “Do you fear me?” He asks her, as if sensing her apprehension. “I would never hurt you, never take from you anything you did not wish to give.”

“I’ve…I’ve never kissed anyone before,” She admits, “I do not know how to, I might be terrible at it.”

“Ah lass, that is no’ possible.” He assures her, his eyes warm and kind.

“How can you be so certain?” She murmurs.

“Come to me lass and I’ll show you.” He says, holding his hand out to her. She moves toward him helplessly, moving into the water, she grasps his hand, shivers run down her spine at the contact. Raising her face to him, their bodies so close now she can feel the heat of his. Smell his clean masculine scent. He smells of spring and fire. Trembling, she brings her hands to his chest. 

Slowly so as if not to spook her, he places his hands on her face, cradling her delicate jaw in his palms. He lowers his face toward her up turned one. 

“Mo Chridhe,” He breathes against her lips, she quivers, desire riding her for only the second time in her life. His lips brush against hers slowly, maddeningly slowly. Tantalizingly sweet, coaxing her to relax, drugging her. His hands slide into her hair, his fingernails gently rasping against her scalp, sending shivers down her spine. The tip of his tongue expertly probes the seam of her lips, she gasps at the contact, allowing him the entrance he seeks. softly, unhurriedly he tastes her sweetness. Running the tip of his tongue against hers, allowing her to become accustomed to it, then withdrawing. 

She whimpers against his lips, as she follows his tutelage. Her own untried tongue emulating his actions.He groans deep in his chest as he feels her tentatively tasting him, he pulls away, breaking the prolonged contact. He leans his forehead against hers.

“Simrin,” He whispers reverently.

“Did I…did I do it wrong?” She asks concerned, he chuckles at that.

“No mo bhanrigh bhig, no. God in heaven you taste of honey and paradise, and I can no’ get enough of you, even if I had a lifetime of this. But when your tongue is in my mouth…Christ I come undone.” He tells her.

“Oh.” She says dumbstruck.

“I want to touch you, I want to run my hands over your silken skin. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to taste where my hands have been. I want to press you against me, and carry you off to my bed and lay you down like the priceless treasure you are. I want you as I have never wanted anything else Simrin, and I am no’ noble enough to no’ do it, if you want me to lass.” His brogue is so thick with desire it takes her a moment to understand him.

“I..I want you to…but he will kill us both.” She replies, shaken. He scoffs at that.

“He is welcome to try,” He says fiercely. “This thing between us mo’ ghraidh, it is between us only. He does nae figure into it. If you want me, then come and have me.”

“I can’t…” She gasps out, fear making her tremble now. All the desire gone from her. “You don’t know him, you don’t understand.”

“Simrin, I am no’ offering you free use of my body and then a merry goodbye when we are sated. I want you lass, and I won’t share you. If I am yours, then you are mine. I’ll give you my name; my protection, my life if need be. I told you I am a greedy man, no half measures will do for me when it comes to you.” He tells her, the sincerity of his words startling her.

“You barely know me…” She says.

“When you have been fighting your whole life you learn to trust your instincts. And from the moment I saw you I ken what you were to me.” He informs her.

“This is lust.” She tells him firmly.

“Surely,” He agrees easily, “But it’s more than that. You ken it too.” A chill runs down her spine, as she remembers her first thought about him, that this man was the key to her freedom…

“I…I can’t do this. This is madness.” She says, refusing to allow herself to hope.

“Easy lass, I will no’ push you to make any decisions now. Take your time, think on it. But Mo' ghraidh know you this, I am yours, and you are mine.” He releases her then, her hands shake as she retreats to her clothes. He finds his plaid and dons it as well. Turning to her, he grasps her hand in his. “Come, I will show you a secret way to come and go from here as you please.”

“Why?” She breaths, hyper aware of his touch, her hand tingles from it. 

“Because this is our place now, and no one will ever be able to stop you from coming here again,” He says simply. “One day when we are old, I will take our bairn’s bairn here to this verra spot, and I will tell them of the day that I saw the moon caress the face of an angel.” 

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” She says, even as she knows she will never be able to let this man go.

“Aye, but you will mo’ ghraidh, you will. And I will try no’ to remind you of your reticence over much when you do.” 

****

Elle woke reaching for him, mera dil mere shareer ke baahar dhadakata hai, kyonki yah tumhaara hai, is jeevan ke lie aur har doosare ke lie! Aiden, jaanu… She thinks wildly in hindi, a language she has not used in many, many years. She blinks, trying to remember the meaning. My heart beats outside my body, for it is yours for this lifetime and all others!  She jolts awake, upright in bed, searching around her wildly….Aiden, you are my life… 

It takes her a moment to remember, she is not Simrin, and Aiden…is no longer Aiden. Looks like Daire feels like Milo.She looks around, the dream was so vivid, she can still smell the scent of him, and the warm rich air of the lake, she half expected to find him beside her, but of course he isn’t. But neither is Milo, and that sent a chill down her spine, waking her fully. She was in his bedroom, in his bed, where was he? She glanced around, a bit panicked, they had fought last night, but when she had come up to bed, he had not said a word about it. Just inquired if she was warm enough. She had drifted off to sleep beside him, but in the night she had remembered feeling his arms around her, as he cradled her…or had she? Did she dream that? She must have, because there was no way he would have reached for her in the night, smoothing her hair from her face oh so gently, whispering to her tenderly in Dutch…she had to have dreamed that! Gradually the sounds of the shower running permeated her worried mind, and she laid back down, closing her eyes, relieved, and then immediately confused about her relief.

Relief? I feel relieved…that he’s here? She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, between the dreams that seemed to be getting clearer and more vivid, and her own aching desire, she was steadily and dangerously becoming more and more attached to him. Which simply would not do. I can not get attached, didn’t I just tell him last night that this wasn’t real? And yet in the bright harsh light of day, Elle found herself…wanting his presence. I am all kinds of stupid. 

She heard the door to the en suite open, and looked up helplessly. She sucked in a hard breath, and had to look away almost immediately, her face flaming her fists clenched, because never in her life had she seen anything as arousing as the sight before her. His hair was wet and pulled back from his freshly shaved face, his lightly tanned skin still damp and gleaming, the muscles of his upper body highlighted by the early morning sun, the towel around his waist hung low over his exposed hip bones, his body dusted lightly with blond hair, a darker trail of which ran from his navel, down…A detail I definitely didn’t need for my fantasies going forward…jesus!!Elle refused to think further than that, lest she fall out of this bed. She swore she could feel the heat emanating from his powerful, beautiful body, it hadn’t escaped her notice that she was so close that if she reached out her hand she would almost brush against his ridiculously defined stomach. 

“Good morning,” he intoned, his voice deep, even and infinitely more calm than she felt. “How did you sleep?”

“G…good.” She managed, her voice sounding unnaturally high to her. She refused to look back at him,genuinely concerned she might have a stroke, how am I supposed to function looking at him!  She felt him linger by the bed for a moment, as if he might say something more to her, before she heard him exhale,and forcefully walk away toward the closet. She hazarded a peak then, watching his retreating back, all but sighing over the firm defined musculature of his upper back, and that ass!! God help me!

“I’m going to be away today,” He told her, over his shoulder, as he walked into his closet, selecting his clothes for the day. “Business, an urgent matter that I have to deal with, immediately.” He sounded positively aggravated.

“Oh, umm okay.” She mumbled, surprised by the pang she felt at that. Christ am I becoming needy? She thought in disgust.

“I had hoped my brother Julian would be able to handle the situation, but he’s informed me that he can not.” He explained, as if he wanted her to understand he wasn’t leaving on some frivolity. Like he feels obligated to…because I’ve become so needy of him!

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, I’m not your wife” She retorted sharply, maybe too sharply.  He poked his head out of his closet, and pierced her with his intense icy eyes, a vaguely disappointed expression on his handsome face that was swiftly replaced with an irritated one.

“Has it occurred to you that I might want to explain myself to you?” He asked her, his tone frosty, “That I might want you to see me as someone considerate and thoughtful, rather than the vapid, shallow ken doll image you’ve decided I am?” 

“I don’t think you're vapid or shallow..” She sighed, honestly feeling bad about their argument the night before. “It’s not about you, you seem like a really great, potentially ridiculously great person,” 

“Ummhmm,” He murmured, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, “Is this your super subtle way of saying ‘it's not you, it's me’?Spare me,” He finished, turning back into his closet, out of sight, though she could hear him muttering angrily in Dutch.

“I don’t speak dutch but that tone is unmistakable,” She told him, “Kind of rude if I’m being honest.”

“Rude?! You want to talk to me about being rude?” He glowered striding out of his closet, her jaw literally dropped as she took him in, he was in an Indigo blue suit that fit him as if it were custom, because it probably was, his crisp white button down opened at the collar, holding a deep red silk tie in his hand. His eyes blazing, and somehow even more pronounced against the deep inky blue of the suit. It took her a second to understand what he was saying, she was so scrambled.

“What? What did I do?” She asked, confused. 

“Besides assuming I’m faking my attraction to you?” He growled at her, throwing his tie onto the bed in his anger.

“You are not attracted to me! I told you this is just the by-product of a really messed up situation!” She told him, rising from the bed, to stand glaring at him.

“Niemand vertelt me tot wie ik me wel en niet aangetrokken kan voelen! Zelfs jij niet!” He shot at her, clearly furious.

“I don’t speak Dutch, asshole! So you are either going to have to translate that, or you can go fuck yourself,” She hissed back at him. He gritted his teeth at her but she swore she saw the corner of his lips tweak up as if he were trying to stop himself from being amused. He placed his fist in front of his mouth, his eyes dancing…decidedly not with anger.

“No one tells me who I can and can not be attracted to, not even you.” He translated after a moment, having regained his stoic composure. “Clearly especially not you, you have terrible taste.”

“I have terrible taste?! Pardon me, I’m not the one evidently attracted to a penniless, short, medium ugly at best, degenerate…” She began ranting, he moved forward, pressing the fingers of his left hand to her mouth gently, the other cradling the side of her face. 

“Stop!” He said sharply, wincing. “Don’t…don’t talk about yourself like that, ever!” Elle glanced up at him, lost for words, the way he was looking at her. As if it had hurt him to hear her tear herself down. What in the world… “I don’t understand why you see yourself like this, but I don’t like it, and I won’t have anyone talk about you like that, not even you.”  He slid his fingers down her chin, lightly placing his big hand over her chest, just above her breasts, his fingertips on her collarbone. The unexpected contact making her heart pound, and her breaths shallow.

“Uhh,” She mumbled, “O…okay, I don’t know what to do with this,” She whispered, holding her hands up and taking a step back from him, he released her, letting his hands drop. She placed her face in her hands for a second trying to compose herself. 

“Elle, I won’t apologize for being protective of you, but I am sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He told her softly. “I am…angry that you feel the way you do about yourself, because it seems to me that you are just repeating what someone else told you about you, and it upsets me that anyone could look at you, and not see what I see.” 

“And what do you see?” She asked angrily, whipping her head up to pin him with her wild hurt eyes. “No really what do you see that apparently no one, not even me can? Because I’ll tell you it's not as if I’ve had men lining up for a chance at this!” She growled gesturing at her body. “It isn’t even me you see is it? You see flawless bone structure, whiskey eyes and a face that looks like it should have launched more than a thousand ships, right? You see Simrin, or Laila, or maybe Leah…or whatever else name I supposedly had before, but you don’t see me, you don’t see Elle, there is no way you see this!” she pointed at her furious, hauntingly beautiful face.

“Ik kan je zein!” I see you! He told her fiercely, reaching for her even as she backed away from him. 

“I don’t even speak your language,” She sighed exhausted now, running her hands through her hair, “This is so fucked, this is so doomed!” All the color left his face at her words.

“Don’t say that, you can’t mean that.” He looked at her wildly.  

“How many languages do you speak Milo? How old are you? What do you like doing for fun? What’s your favorite food? What’s your god damned favorite color? I don’t know! I have no fucking idea! And that’s the point, I don’t know you, and you do not know me, and I won’t delude myself that without knowing what is arguably the best part of me, my personality, that you could possibly be attracted to me. Which means whatever this is, isn’t about me, Elle. It’s about what you hope I am.” She told him fiercely. He gazed at her then in silence. The moment filled with her heavy breathing and his regard. 

“Fluently I speak 5 languages, but I know many more. I'm 27, but I turn 28 on August 23rd. Which makes me a virgo, if that’s of interest to you. I don’t have a lot of time for fun because of the work I do, but I am by nature an introvert. I read a lot, I like to build things, I like board games, specifically games that require strategy. On occasion I watch trash reality shows, because my personal life is drab and boring. I like to cook, and I like to try new exciting food, so I wouldn’t say I have a favorite food, however I do have a sweet tooth. Sweets, ice cream, chocolate, there is a place by my apartment in the Netherlands that sells these chocolate truffles, I always keep some in my fridge. I do not have a favorite color, I own a lot of blue clothes, but that’s purely vanity because someone told me it makes my eyes stand out more.” He retorted calmly, his tone even. As he had spoken he had moved closer and closer to her, never taking his eyes from her face until he was standing directly in front of her now. “If you want to know about me, all you ever have to do is ask.”

“This..this isn’t even the point.” She mumbled, he was standing so close to her now, she felt dizzy with awareness of him. 

“I want to know you, because I suspect you are correct that your personality is undoubtedly the best thing about you,” He told her, tilting his head as if analysing her, “But it is not the thing that makes the rest of you palatable, you are stunning, sexy, fucking gorgeous, and you are all those things without your personality, this,” He gestured to her “Is winning the cosmic lottery, and this,” He said gently tapping her temple, “is like finding out you didn’t need the lottery because you were already rich.”  She let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. 

“This is ridiculous,” She murmured. “You are sweet-talking me…”

“If you believe that, you need to go have a conversation with my brothers and ask them about my legendary flirting skills, once they stop laughing you may have an idea of how ridiculous the notion that I am sweet talking you is.” He told her humorlessly. 

“Right, you're going to tell me you don’t know how to sweet talk?” She replied sarcastically. He arched an eyebrow at her, “Fuck you, there is no way you don’t have game.”

“I don’t need game, I’m rich and I look like this,” he told her emotionlessly, not even a hint of arrogance in his tone.

“Don’t sound so upset about it,” She said sardonically.

“I hate it,” He told her firmly, “I have 3 brothers, we all have money, and one of my brothers is my twin, we literally share a face. Do you know how interchangeable that makes me feel? I want to be wanted for who I am, just as much as you do.” 

“But why me?” She asked frustrated, “You can’t convince me this isn’t because you think I’m your soulmate.”

“You are my soulmate,” He told her simply.

“But how do you know?” She questioned, “How can you be so damned sure?”

“You look like you, but you feel like…her, all the hers you’ve ever been.” He explained to her. Elle knew exactly what he meant and it chilled her, looks like Daire feels like Milo…

“I can’t…this…this is ridiculous.” She stammered.

“Is it?” He asked her softly, “How do you know about Simrin, Leah and Laila? Is this a group delusion you and I are sharing, Elle?” 

“This…this is so fucked,” She whispered. An alarm went off, breaking the tension between the two of them. He cursed under his breath as he looked to his watch on the nightstand.

“I have to go, my plane is set to take off in an hour,” He told her clearly torn, “I can’t miss this fucking meeting.” 

“An hour? Are you even going to be able to make it through security?” She asked, feeling guilty for delaying him.

“Private jet, no security till I land.” He explained, yet another reminded of the differences between them, “This conversation isn’t over Elle, we will talk when I get back.”

“When will you be back?” She asked before she could stop herself. 

“Tonight, I’m not sure what time, but I will be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me, but,” He began, framing her face with his hands, “make sure you sleep here,I don’t want you to have nightmares alone.” His face suffused with tenderness for her. 

“Okay,” She whispered, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, she closed her eyes on a wave of emotion. 

“I have to go,” He told her, making no move to release her, “You will be careful, yes? Don’t go anywhere, and…and you will be here when I get home?” He asked her the worry furrowing his brow.

“I’ll be right here,” She promised, “Go, before you miss this meeting and presumably become penniless over it.” She chided. He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe her in, before capturing her eyes with his again, for one heart stopping moment she thought he might kiss her, but instead he released her. Unnoticed by Elle his hands had a fine tremor, as he made his way to his night stand, grabbing his wallet, a set of keys and his passport. He placed them into his inner jacket pocket, before again spearing her with his gaze.

“I hate to leave you,” He whispered, sounding dazed as if he didn’t realize he was saying it aloud.  

“I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine, what trouble could I possibly get into? She teased. He smiled at her, as he absently put on his watch. Elle looked down at his quick deft movements and almost choked, diamond encrusted and platinum, it matched perfectly with his exposed cufflinks. He picked up his tie from the bed, and draped it around his neck. Absently tying it as he moved toward the door, he stopped at the door, and turned to look at her again over his shoulder, looking as if he were undecided on what to do. “I will be fine,” She assured him again. He nodded his head, even as his brow remained furrowed. “Go,” She shooed. He turned then and left the room, Elle sat down heavily on the couch, resting her face in her hands. 

Oh this is going to hurt so fucking much, when I have to leave!

****

He had always been good at finding things, always had a knack for research. Even as a child, if he’d wanted something he’d found a way to have it. He took risks, he did dangerous things, he’d paid the price for those follies, sometimes with blood. But he’d grown up rough, that’s the way others put it, grown up rough, and in the same breath they called him ‘gifted’. Above normal intelligence, natural athletic talent, artistically inclined…so many nonsense complements and because he’d ‘grown up rough’ none of it had mattered in the end. It’s not as if he’d grown up poor, his family wasn’t mega-wealthy sure, but they’d had means. It was that they simply didn’t give a shit about him, or what he did.

His mother and step-father had put him through school, paid for his degrees, which he’d amassed with ease. After all, getting a degree in history was nothing to a man who remembered the eras he was studying from personal experience. At one time he’d considered becoming a professor…but that was all before. 

He could remember it like a sudden fracture, his life before and his life after. He’d never been exactly stable, even he could admit that, but he’d mostly been able to live his life, though he’d explode into violence and rage on occasion. Worse when he drank or got high, but for the most part he could compartmentalize his memories. For years he’d kept the fact that he could remember every single one of his lifetimes a secret, fearing that people would assume he’d lost his mind, never telling anyone besides his therapist. Until 5 years ago…he couldn’t remember the specifics of the events but he’d been on a day trip in the mountains, and he’d felt…how to describe what he’d felt? Rage…oh god so much rage. Then it was lifetime after lifetime's worth of violence, anger, hurt, jealousy, untenable fury. He’d attacked people, he’d had to be sedated, when he’d come out of it, he’d had this massive scar on his face, and been sitting in an involuntary hold in a mental health ward in Calgary. They’d diagnosed him with intermittent explosive disorder, and sent him home with the equivalent of horse tranquilizers. His mother had taken one look at his face and offered to pay for plastic surgery to fix it. That was it, that was all the support, concern, and care she’d give him. Not even a ‘why did you do it?’ or a ‘Do you need to come home for a while?’ just a ‘Go see a surgeon, and send me the bill.’ 

So naturally he’d chosen to keep the hideous scar, to spite the bitch. To force her to look at what her disregard for him had wrought. He’d taken the medication for a time, stopped drinking, stopped doing everything including smoking, he’d just wanted his life back at first. However the medication had just dulled his wits, made it hard for him to do anything except lay in bed dazed. Thus ended his Phd quest, and his dreams of being a professor. Soon it became near impossible for him to hold down any sort of job, and then it seemed there was no point at all in keeping sober and clean, he’d spiraled…hard. His life seemed to be falling apart at the seams, sliding through his fingers, purposeless, and disgusting. 

Then he’d walked past her bookstore…and felt…something. He’d felt longing, want, a need… He’d never forget the moment he’d seen her for the first time, the way his chest had contracted, the way it seemed he couldn’t get a breath in. It was as if there was a light within her that glowed outward, and for one moment all he had wanted was to take it, to possess it, to keep it all for himself. He’d become fixated on her, on having her, on owning her again. He’d have to have her, he’d find a way…he’d make her his again. He hadn’t necessarily meant to take her by force, but he’d been willing to do whatever he had to do to have her. He’d planned to just steal her away, to make her understand who and what they were to each other…but then Ronan that son of a fucking whore! Had walked into that store, with her children, and he could smell him on them. The rage he’d felt, the absolute vehemency…he’d only ever felt that once before, and he’d completely lost his head. He’d ambushed her, wanting to take at least that from her, before he could have it! If he was going to steal her from him again then he was going to get what was left of her for once!

He’d imagined she might remember him…hoped that she would sense him the way he sensed her. But she’d taken one look at him, and there had been nothing but blank terror in her useless dullard eyes. He wondered how she’d reacted to seeing him…the idea filled him with bile and venom, she’d probably swooned at the sight of him!! 

Focus! I don’t have time to reminisce! I have to find this fucker before… He could almost sense they were getting closer to each other,it felt like a noose around his neck, tightening with every passing hour, and it enraged him. Surely he’d come back this time with all his memories to make her pay for what she’d done to him, over and over again? Surely the point of all of this was for vengeance…He was going to have her, he was going to take her from him, and he was going to make sure it hurt as much as possible! If he could only find James goddamned Van Ee!

****

Elle spent most of the day in her new hiding spot reading, or else pretending to read as she could barely keep her mind off Milo and their conversation. The more she replayed it the more surreal it had become, until she was half convinced she had dreamed it up. There was just simply no way that he thought her face and body was …how had he put it? Winning a cosmic lottery. She sighed, even his assertion that he had no ‘game’ felt like a jarring shift from reality. Because if this wasn’t him being a silver tongued flirt…then…then he really feels that way about me. Which of course could not possibly be true.  Giving up the pretense, she tossed aside the book and leaned against the bench. He had told her she should talk to his brothers about his flirting skills, maybe she should take him up on that? But would his brother be honest with her? Wasn’t there some unwritten brother code, which would undoubtedly be even more ironclad between identical twins?  But Maeve, Daire and Ute had all told her that Milo was cold, boring and detached; she rolled her eyes at that. Sooo fucking detached, one smoldering look from him and my panties are screaming to come off… Max hadn’t called him cold thought, surely if anyone knew Milo it would have to be his twin right? 

In all honesty Max struck her as someone who said what was on his mind and didn’t mince his words. In Elle’s experience people like that had a hard time lying, or atleast lying convincingly, and Elle was uncommonly good at reading people…surely she reasoned I can tell if he’s full of shit? Right? Determined now, she got up, and rushed back toward the house. Let’s find out if you actually have game or not! 

Striding into the house, she marched into the kitchen, finding no one there, she checked the dining room, and then the living room, of course no one was there! The one bloody time she was desperate to talk to Max he was nowhere to be found. She knew he wasn’t in the pool as she had walked passed it, so where the actual fuck was he? Glowering she stormed upstairs, passed her bedroom, and to the one she remembered Max poking his head out off, pounding on the door fiercely. She heard muffled swearing, from Max and Maeve, a quick harried angry conversation in Dutch between the couple, before Max yanked the door open, wrapped from the waist down in a comforter, and nothing else. Elle arbitrarily noted that he had a nice physique, though not nearly as defined as Milo’s.

“What the hell, Elle?” He growled at her, “I’m kind of busy at the moment…”

“Is Milo a flirt?” She interrupted aggressively. “And don’t bullshit me with some twin loyalty bs!” Max blinked surprised, looking at her as if she was out of her mind, before abruptly bursting into hysterical laughter. He was all but bent over, slapping his knee, tears of mirth coming from his eyes. In between gasps of laughter, he called out to his wife.

“Maeve…Maeve…sweet jesus…come here…” He managed.

“What? What’s happening?” Maeve asked from behind him “I’m no’ decent,”

“Elle…Elle…fucking…wants to know…” He choked, laughing even harder, “If Milo…my fucking brother Milo…is a godverdomme flirt!” Silence before Maeve started roaring with laughter as well.

“Oh lass...Oh you poor sweet thing,” She burst out, in a bless-your-heart tone that rankled Elle.

“Why is this so fucking funny? It’s a legit question to be asking!” Elle glowered, irritated. To which both Max and Maeve keened with laughter.

“Oh…fuck me…fuck…let me get dressed, I’ll…meet you in the kitchen.” Max howled, genuinely beside himself with humor. “Milo…a fucking….flirt.” he gasped out at his wife, closing the door in Elle’s face. She stared at the shut door, bemused.

****

A long time after her at times infuriating but mostly enlightening conversation with Max, Elle stared at the ceiling of the living room sipping her glitter matcha.  What the actual fuck… She thought now, running her thumb around the rim of the cup. 

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost, lass?” Daire asked her, taking a seat beside her on the couch, Elle shrugged her shoulders non committedly. “Oh come on now, you can no’ keep me in suspense.”

“Milo’s…not a flirt.” She said absently, Daire raised his eyebrows at her.

“Nae, no’ a soul would accuse him of that,” He agreed. “Is this a problem?”

“No…yes…maybe, I don’t even fucking know.” She sighed, turning to look at him.

“You’ve lost me, lass, what is happening?” He asked, “Go on, you clearly want to talk about the bawbag,” He nudged her with his elbow.

“I don’t even know where to start,” She told him truthfully, “He says…so many confusing things to me, and if he was just a flirt, it would make sense, but apparently he is unequivocally the single least flirtatious man, to the point of being social awkward if I’m to believe his twin,” She explained.

“Aye, so why is this confusing?” He asked her.

“Because if he’s a shit flirt…then…he means it.” She told him, “But..there is no way…I mean maybe he’s just got his twin fooled?” 

“So you believe it’s more likely that he’s got his whole family, strangers, every woman he’s likely ever spoken to, and the mother superior for the convent he probably resides in, fooled than what he’s saying to you is real?” Daire asked her drolly.

“There is no way he feels that way for me, it’s simply not possible!” She told him fiercely. Daire arched an eyebrow at her.

“Why no’?” He asked. Elle looked at him incredulously, before gesturing to her body. Daire rolled his eyes, “Och lass, you have the worst self esteem for a beautiful woman I have ever seen, it makes me want to fight whatever secondary school bully damaged you.” 

“I’m not damaged!” She hissed angrily, “I’m just…realistic.”

“Oh Aye, you are the verra image of reality,” He told her sarcastically, “Because of course Milo can nae find you bonny, and braw, it has to be that he’s got super human abilities to convince everyone else that he is awkward as fuck.”

“He is not awkward.” Elle informed him. 

“Aye no’ with you,” he agreed, “Has it no’ occurred to you that the way he is with you is verra different then how he interacts with everyone else?”  Elle had to admit…that it had in fact occurred to her. But she would take that to the grave before conceding to Daire.

“You are not helping me!” She hissed at him.

“I do nae want to help you delude yourself!” He retorted. “Let’s leave this be then, come for a ride with me, get your mind out of whatever hidey hole of depression you’re so content to be in.” Elle rolled her eyes, but agreed. She didn’t want to think about this anymore.

****

Around dinner time Elle noticed that no one had bothered to make anything, or order anything for that matter. Irritated that they all seemed to be waiting for Milo to come home to make any decisions, she headed to the kitchen. Looking around at the ingredients, she formulated a plan. It seemed distinctly unfair to her that Milo would be expected to feed everyone once he returned, when everyone else, her included, had more or less sat around all day doing nothing.  

Pushing her hair back, Elle began pulling the necessary ingredients from the fridge. Looking around she found the pantry, noticed other ingredients and began updating her dinner plans around it. Within 30 mins Elle had dinner on the stove cooking. Brushing her hands on her jeans, she began cleaning up the kitchen, putting away her mess. The kitchen smelling of spices and good food, she smiled to herself feeling productive. I hope he likes this. She thought before she quickly pushed the thought away, she was NOT making dinner to impress Milo, they all had to eat after all... but I really hope this is up to his caliber.

Once dinner was ready Elle began dishing, everyone had clambered into the dinning room, but Milo still wasn’t back. She handed out dishes, and decided that she would wait a bit to eat, NOT so that Milo wouldn’t have to eat dinner by himself, she was just not hungry. She told herself, even as her stomach growled. Not waiting to see what anyone thought about dinner, Elle headed upstairs to her room.

As Elle entered the room she noticed that there was a package on the bed. Curious, she stalked over to it. It was a thin box, wrapped in silvery wrapping paper, with a bow on it. On top of it was an envelope. She opened it first, pulling a folded piece of paper out. Opening that, she frowned as she read it.

Elle, 

 I hope this is the right one. I know it does not make up for the one you lost, but maybe this can help ease some of the sting.

-Milo

Elle looked at the neat block letters of Milo’s writing, genuinely confused by what this could be. Placing it down gently on the side table by the bed, she reached for the present next. Why would he even get me anything? She thought, as she began taking apart the wrapping paper. She gasped and dropped the box onto the bed, covering her mouth with her trembling hands. No…there’s no way… She tentatively picked up the box again, turning it so she could read the label…

It was the Macbook pro of her literal dreams! Milo had bought her not just a new laptop but the one she had wanted for years. Well not years, seeing as how this was the newest iteration, scratch that…this was the version that was set to launch in 2 months! How on earth had he gotten this for her?! It was beyond the top of the line, it was the future top of the line. How did he even know I wanted this?!

****

Milo drove back to the house, exhausted. His round trip had been well over 16 hours of flying time, spending less than an hour there before rushing back. Julian had tried to convince him to spend the night in the Netherlands, and fly home the next day, but Milo had flatly refused. He had to get back to Elle,simply couldn't stand the idea of her having another nightmare alone. Julian and Fiore, though confused by his vehemency, were intrigued by his desire to go back, and had roundly questioned him right until he had gotten back on the plane; he had told them nothing, save that Elle would be waiting for him. Knowing full well they both knew who she was, if not from Ute than definitely from Max or Maeve. Both promised to head down to meet her whenever they were ready. Milo had told them both in no uncertain terms that neither of them were to come to meet her, at any point in the near future. It was enough that he was stuck with his twin, he did not also need his older brother cockblocking him! Who else had to cram into the cabin? James and Adele? Nadia!? Absolutely not!

He got back to the Cabin around 1 in the morning. Tired beyond belief he headed to the kitchen, starving. Elle sat at the counter, sipping her tea. Startled, he stopped dead, the door smacking him in the ass as it had her on her first day there. She glanced up at the sound. Her whole face seemed to warm as she looked at him, a tender welcoming smile on her lips…for him! Thrilled he barely restrained himself from grinning like an idiot.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he told her. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Come sit,” She directed, standing. “Can I make you some matcha?”

“Oh no, don’t trouble yourself,” He said, “Did you eat? I can make something…” He said looking around. She arched an eyebrow at him,

“That’s my line,” She told him, “Come on, sit, let me grab you some dinner.” 

“What did they order?” He asked as she ushered him into a chair. She smiled at that, as she gave him her back working the microwave.

“Nothing,” She told him, as she placed his plate in front of him. The aroma of the exotically spiced dish, making his mouth water and his stomach growl. He had barely eaten today. She sat beside him with another plate of food before her. “It’s nothing special…” She began. He took a spoonful and barely contained a moan at the exquisite meal. 

“You made this?” He asked her rounding on her, she smiled her face a little flushed, nodding as she started in on her meal. “This is…” He tried to find the words as he took another mouthful, “My favorite food,” He concluded. She started laughing warmly.

“You’ve got jokes,” She said, “Just eat your dinner.”

“I’m not joking,” He told her seriously. “What is this?” 

“It’s called Kori Gassi,” She told him between mouthfuls, “Mangalorean chicken curry,” She explained. 

“I’ve been to Goa,” He told her, “I’ve had Kori Gassi, this…this is the best Kori Gassi in the world, and I can say that with utter confidence.” 

“And they say you’re not a good flirt,” She muttered under her breath, as she quietly ate her food. 

“What?” He asked, she shook her head. Letting it drop, he made quick work of the meal. “Tell me there’s more,” he asked her hopefully, with a deeply amused and flattered smile she grabbed his plate and went to get him seconds.

****

After he was done, he insisted on doing the dishes despite her protests. He removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, Elle barely contained herself at the sight of his defined tanned forearms, highlighted perfectly by his white shirt, he made quick work of the dishes and pots. Elle quietly made him a mug of her glitter matcha and handed it to him, as he sat down. 

“My matcha always tastes like bitter garbage,” He told her,sipping the tea with relish, a fine dusting of glitter on his lips. Elle wanted to lick it off him, but instead contented herself with sipping her own tea.

“You probably over boil your water,” She informed him.

“That would have been good to know before I wasted hundreds of euros on premium matcha,” He sighed. “What did you get up to today?”

“Are we entering the, ‘how was your day, dear’ phase of our relationship then?” She teased, he smiled at her.

“Maybe,” He said, lightly nudging her with his elbow, “Come on don’t tease me, tell me what you did while I was gone.”

“Are you asking if I missed you?” She asked, he looked away a little flushed, Elle felt a pang of tenderness for him, he was asking her if she missed him. “Because I did,” She told him, now also flushing. He abruptly looked up, spearing her with his gaze.

“Did you really?” He asked, barely stifling a grin.

“Did you?” She countered.

“Yes,” He said simply. She blinked as warmth flooded her body. She looked away, overwhelmed with feelings.

“I...I got your present.” She told him finally. 

“Oh?” He asked, his voice sounding a little strained. She glanced at him, seeing the tension in his face, he looked as if he were holding his breath.

“You very much should not have,” She informed him. “And I absolutely can not keep it, but it was…”

“Why can’t you keep it? Was it not the right one?” He asked, confused and concerned.

“No...it was better than the right one, it's just…Milo you can’t buy me presents that are more expensive than my car!” She told him 

“Why not?” He asked her.

“Because…it's…you just can’t!” She told him finally.

“Elle, in case it has slipped your mind, I am exceedingly wealthy, I definitely will not miss the money in any way,” He began, “You will get more use and joy out of it than I would with it sitting in my bank account.” 

“That’s not the point…” She began. 

“Elle, my brother told me yours was stolen, you wouldn’t have needed a new laptop if it weren’t for this situation,” He reasoned, “I’ve lost nothing, even though this is at least 50% on me as well, I can’t stand the thought of all of your things being damaged, let me atleast make some kind of amends.” 

“None of this is your fault anymore than mine,” She began.

“I wasn’t there to protect you,” He told her, “And the guilt of it is eating me alive,”

“Replacing my damaged stuff…that makes you feel better?” She asked softly, touched.

“In some small way,” He agreed. She sighed, definitely uneasy about the idea, but also…He felt powerless, and replacing my stuff allows him to have a measure of control over this fucked up situation.

“If you must,” She said finally. “But nothing more expensive than my car please! Cece will get jealous!” 

“Cece?” He asked, confused.

“My Car, short for Cecelia, I named her for a song!” She told him brightly.

Cecelia and the satellite?” He asked, Elle’s eyes widened in surprise. No one, absolutely no one ever guessed correctly. 

“Yeah, how did you know?” She asked him in wonder. He locked eyes with her tilting his head as if reading her.

“It’s the kind of song that feels like driving,” He told her. Elle had to look away, because that was exactly her reasoning.  Jesus, what if he is my soulmate?

****

He brushes slow kisses against her lips, her body shivers with want. His hands move against her skin, the calluses abrading her, the friction delicious. 

“Easy Eleanore, easy,” He whispers against her lips, “We don’t have to go any further than this,” He promises her. How is she supposed to tell him that she wants more, that she can’t stop thinking about him, day and night, that she no longer wants a marriage just in name, she wants a real breathing, living marriage with him…it was always supposed to be with him. 

His big hands frame her face, his hazel eyes staring into her green ones…how did she ever think his eyes looked like Lucas’? Lucas' eyes were dull, and empty compared to the lively, kind sparkling eyes before her. He is so gentle, so kind, so soft with her, everything Lucas was not. And when he smiles at her reassuringly, never pushing her past what she wants, never asking for more, she wants to give him everything. 

“I want…I want…” She whispers, her face flaming as she hides it in his chest.

“Tell me what you want,” He asks gently, his hand under her chin lifting her face to his, “I swear I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need from me Ellie, you only ever have to ask.”

She runs her hands against his chest, over his shirt, feeling the buttons against her palms. She wants to touch his bare skin, to feel his wild heartbeat, to run her lips against his strong indomitable heart. She looks up at him, trying to find the words.

“Do you want to touch me?” He asks her,”Without anything between us?” the warmth of his voice, like another caress.She nods, not trusting her voice, her face flaming. He reaches between them flicking buttons open with easy practiced movements, she looks away shy. He chuckles warmly, cupping her cheek with his hand he gently directs her face back to his. “Look at me Ellie, I’m your husband, you never have to be shy with me. If you want to look at my body, or touch it, all you have to do is ask. I will never deny you.” 

She smiles at him now, shy but determined to watch him, with her attention fixed, he slowly languidly resumes flicking the remaining buttons open. He draws the fabric open, exposing his muscular chest and torso to her, the muscles around his ribs cording. He takes her hands in his and places them down on his scorching skin. She sighs, as she rubs the palms of her hands against his firm pecs, watching her hands, her pale skin stark against his work tan. 

“That’s it love,” He whispers, his eyes gone heavy lidded, “Touch me wherever you want.” He leans back in the chair, adjusting her in his lap, his big hand resting against her exposed knee. As her hands move over him in wonder, his hand caresses her knee in slow circular movements. She trails her hands lower down his torso to the edge of his belt, her hands begin to shake here, she can see he has grown hard, his erection straining the fabric of his trousers. She looks up at his face uncertain, realizing he is watching her. “Do you want to touch me there?” He asks her, by the look on his face she knows he wants her to.

“I...I don’t know how…” She begins, embarrassed now. “I never…umm touched him there.”  He frowns at her, clearly surprised by that revelation.

“Have you ever…seen a man fully in the nude Ellie?” He asks her. She blushes but shakes her head no. 

“It was…dark,” She explains, suddenly feeling cold. It had hurt so much… She moves to get off his lap, but his arms enfold her, cradling her gently against him.

“Don’t go Ellie, don’t run from me,” He whispers against her forehead, “We don’t have to do that, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I...I want to touch you there…” She finally admits, “I just…I want…I don’t want it to be bad for you.” 

“Bad for me?” He asks incredulously, “Ellie any way you touch me is good, so damn good.” 

“I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.” She whispers. He releases a surprised breath, his hand under her chin he tilts her face up to look at him.

“Eleanore,” He says, “my love, why would you touching me, hurt?” He asks, the dawning look of comprehension crossing his face hurts her more than she could have imagined. He draws her closer to him, rocking her against his body, “Oh darling, my sweetheart, I am so sorry. I didn’t know, I didn’t know he hurt you like that. I would never have…” 

“It’s…it's supposed to hurt…” She reasons, though she has long suspected that was a lie.

“No, God no, love, no it’s not.” He tells her, tenderly kissing the crown of her head, his hands cupping the back of her head to him. “It’s supposed to feel good, it's supposed to feel like pleasure, not hurt, never pain.” 

“Even when…even when…you’re inside?” She gasps out, her heart pounding.

“That's supposed to feel good for both of us,” He explains, “If a woman is…excited it shouldn’t hurt at all.” 

“Excited?” She asks confused, “Like..happy?”

“Sort of, more like…how do you feel when I kiss you Ellie, or when I put my hands on you? Or when you put your hands on me?” He asks her, her face flames.

“Hot, and…cold, and my body…it aches.” She explains. “Like I want a hundred things, but I don’t even know what.” 

“And how do you feel in between your legs?” He asks her, she goes rigid with embarrassment, unused to talking like this with anyone much less a man. But she reminds herself this isn’t just any man, this is Roman, this is her husband. 

“It…aches, and it feels…wet.” She manages, burying her face in his chest. “I feel like…something is wrong with me, like I’m wanton.”

“Eleanore that’s how it's supposed to feel,” He tells her gently, “You're supposed to get slick, and open for me, and I’m supposed to help you get that way, so that you're ready for me, and the more excited and wet you are for me, the better it feels for us both.”

“Really?” She asks, fascinated.

“Umhmm,” He intones, “I want to get you like that, wild and desperate for me, then I want to lay you down in our bed and make love to you, until you scream my name in pleasure.”

“I...I want that,” She whispers.

“You want me to make love to you, Eleanore?” He asks, his voice cracking, she hears him swallow and clear his throat. She nods her head against his chest,he frames her face with his hands and moves her back from him so he can gaze at her. “Eleanore, my precious woman, I need you…I need you to ask me, I need you to tell me you want me like that.”

“It won’t…it won’t hurt?” She asks. His eyes blaze, before he schools his temper.

“I will do everything, anything, to spare you pain Ellie, I will make it so good for you, I promise you.” He tells her fiercely.

“I...I want you to make love to me.” She breaths, piercing his hazel eyes with her moss green ones. His pupils dilate, and his eyelids go heavy, he exhales a soft breath, a warm smile tugs his lips. He runs one of his arms under her legs, the other around her shoulders, standing up in one graceful move he carries her across his chest toward their bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him as he leads her to their bed.

“I’ll take such good care of you, love,” he whispers tenderly, as he lays her down like she is the most precious thing in the world. She gazes up at him with wonder and desire, and believes him.