Desired

Ask And You Shall Receive

It's been two weeks.

Two.

freaking

weeks.

Two weeks since I've last seen Elijah or my mother for that matter. I'm practically living by myself, which is awesome don't get me wrong. I'm just getting tired of doing the same things and watching the same shows every day. It doesn't help any that I miss Mia and Pip either.

"Our everyday Skype calls aren't nearly enough," I muse as I'm laying upside down on the sofa and watching rerun episodes of Golden girls.

My hair is a mess with blonde curls sticking out all over the place and I'm no sight for sore eyes with my black leggings and an oversized T-shirt, that's for sure.

Also the bags underneath my eyes says hello.

For the past two weeks I've been waking up in the middle of the night and fighting my imaginary sleep paralysis demons. My nightmares are back and they're better than ever, and to top it all off, the memory of Elijah slamming me against the wall is still fresh in my mind, replaying over and over like a freaking fever dream.

Every senario more weird...more sinfully wrong.

I groan when I remember him yelling at me to go to my room and me running with my freaking tail between my legs like a scared puppy.

I hear someone working on the locks outside and Elijah walks in. All tattooed and muscled and serious.

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

I subconsciously change my position on the couch, reaching for a sofa pillow and hugging it to my chest as I focus my attention on the television.

Pretending to ignore him as he walks into the kitchen and takes out a plate of food that was prepared by, Angie; one of his house keepers.

I liked Angie. She's a nice lady, in her late fifties maybe? With long shinny brunette hair and a pretty if aged smile. She didn't ignore me like I thought she would and I'm thankful for that.

Angie is the only form of human interaction I've had for the past two weeks I've been stuck in this godforsaken apartment. stuck like a brown skinned Rapunzel, if you ignore the fact that I had no prince charming trying to save me.

Elijah joins me on the sofa and my breath catches in my throat. I immediately start chewing on my lips while pretending to look at the TV.

Come on Renée, put your big girl panties on.

I think, working up some courage as I turn to face him. He ignores me and I clear my throat loudly to gain his attention, watching in paralyzed shock as he slowly turns his head to look at me, all my courage disappearing faster than pizza in a fat kids hands.

"Never mind," I whisper, turning my head back to the television and swallowing down my failure that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Tell me, Amore," he orders, his voice deep and course, washing over my body like hot water on ice.

I shake my head and clear my throat before speaking.

"It's nothing,"

"Fücking tell me Renée"

"Do you always have to swear? You're like an itchy sweater," I say, quickly getting irritated.

"Yes, I do always have to swear because you don't answer my fücking questions and you ignore me when I'm speaking to you. And did you just call me an itchy sweater?"

He asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yes I did. You have a lot in common with an itchy sweater, like for instance, you're both annoying," I say, trying not to laugh when he sucks his teeth.

"And you're like spam emails. Frustrating," He says, making my mouth drop open at his witty insult.

"Well you're like wet socks. Disgusting to the touch," I reply, grinning triumphantly.

I've clearly won this insult battle.

He smiles maliciously, eyes slowly traveling down my body and back up again. I bite the side of my thumb, watching as his tongue darts out and wets his lips.

"And you're like dessert, Amore. I just want to eat you up," he whispers softly, making my heart beat speed up.

My brain tells me good bye as she packs her bags and leaves my central control, while my insides start doing gymnastics.

Well s**t.

"And you're like-um....like-"

"What was your questions?" He asks, cutting off what was sure to be a brilliant come back. I glare at him before answering.

"Can I go see Mia and Pip today?" I ask, mentally cringing. I never had to ask permission for anything when it was just me and my mom.

Mostly because she was never home but the fact still stands.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"Pip?"

"Her baby brother, Philip..... he's five," I say, feeling the need to clarify his age for some reason.

Elijah looks at me intently as I continue to chew on my thumb, trying not to squirm in my seat. Relief washes over me when he nods his head, taking out his phone and typing for a while before placing it back into the pocket of his, very tight and toned-

"Be ready by ten," he says, my cheeks going red with the direction my thoughts had gone.

"Thank you," I say genuinely, offering him a small smile that he doesn't look at me to see.

Guess that's settled.

I think as we continue to watch the movie in comfortable silence, except for my occasional giggles at certain scenes.

The television screen goes black and I turn towards Elijah, who has the remote in his hands.

"Why'd you take it off?" I ask, watching as he looks at me with a frown forming between his eyebrows.

"You have bags underneath your eyes, tesoro," he says, stating the obvious.

I roll eyes and give him an incredulous look.

"Yeah, no s**t Sherlock," I reply sarcastically.

"Are you not sleeping well? Is there something wrong with the bed?" he asks, seeming to be genuinely worried.

I shake my head and avert my eyes, staring at my chipped cuticles.

"There's nothing wrong with the bed," I answer with a shrug of my shoulders, watching as he raises his eyebrow as if waiting for me to elaborate.

"You going to tell me why you're not sleeping or not?" He growls, growing frustrated.

"I don't know, its really none of your business," I reply snidely, smiling when he clenches his jaw.

"Do I really need to threaten everyone you love for you to answer me? Because honestly Renée," he sneers, tilting my chin up so that I'm staring into his blue eyes."I'm not opposed to the idea," he says huskily, hungry eyes locked on my lips.

My panties become useless and I have to physically restrain myself from squeaking, the combination of fair and arousal mixing together and giving me whiplash.

I clear my throat more times than I'd like to admit before speaking.

"It's not the bed. I just.... well I have nightmares and they keep me up sometimes," I say nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders and smiling faintly.

He nods his head, running his thumb across my lips and making my body instantly heat up.

"Tempting," he mutters almost to himself before looking back into my eyes.

"It's still early. Why don't you go take a nap until it's time for you to leave," he says and I shake my head, playing with a loose thread on my t-shirt.

I want to talk to him longer, even if I won't admit it.

Elijah grabs my wrist roughly, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"It wasn't a question, tesoro," he says sternly, a threatening tone to his voice.

"Fine," I whisper as my fear once again controls my actions.

(Translation: Tesoro means darling or treasure)

I pull my wrist gently from his hands and look down at the already forming bruises, watching as his jaw clenches when he notices the marks he left.

His hold wasn't even that tight, I just bruise easily.

I slowly stand up, walking over to my room and feeling his stare burning a hole into my back the entire way.

"That went well,.... NOT," I say to no one,

ungracefully throwing myself on my bed and closing my eyes as I will sleep to come, but of course it doesn't.

My body is to worked up, humming with an unfamiliar sensation. Both fear and excitement mixing all in to one.

The promise of forbidden danger tempting me more than it should as I groan, turning on my back and staring up at the ceiling.

I eventually give up on the pretense of sleep, taking out a book and reading until the time passes.