Chapter 3: Pressure
Warnings: None
A/N: Thank you for the reviews and the feedback! Enjoy. :)
It had been a week since the night of the ball, and Bonnie had come to realize two glaringly obvious facts. First, Elijah Mikaelson wasn't going away anytime soon. And second, the man knew exactly how to apply pressure. Outside of a brief spell in high school, Bonnie had never been the type to get caught up in the whirlwind of romantic attention. But this past week? It had thrown her completely off balance. Whenever she engaged with Elijah, it felt as though her brain shut down, leaving her vulnerable to the magnetic pull of his presence. Like a moth drawn to a flame, a part of her was ready to get burned.
After a stern confrontation, her doorman, Mr. Tanner, reluctantly confessed to what had transpired. A mysterious man had approached him, casually asking what he desired most. Jokingly, Mr. Tanner had mentioned wanting a Rolex, only for the stranger to peel one off his wrist in exchange for Bonnie's apartment number. When the doorman refused, the man upped the ante with a wad of cash, promising no harm would come to her. Ten thousand dollars later, Mr. Tanner had folded.
The realization that she'd been sold out over a watch and cash infuriated Bonnie, though Mr. Tanner's remorseful expression softened her rage. She knew firsthand how intimidating Elijah could be.
That's when she started noticing a pattern. Elijah's gestures were not random; they were calculated. He seemed to deliberately push her buttons, annoy her just enough to earn the need for redemption. It was clever, but Bonnie wasn't slow to catch on. When she finally called him out on it, he didn't bother with an apology.
Instead, he made up for it in the most extravagant ways.
The next day at work, a lavish gift basket from Harry & David arrived, complete with a handwritten card. The message read: Though my words cling like thorns, I vow to handle you with care, as one would a delicate bloom—for what beauty lies in petals untended by gentle hands?
Seriously, Elijah?
She kept the card, along with the moose munch and a few other treats, before sharing the remainder of the massive basket with her coworkers.
On the fourth day, he gave her a break from his grand gestures, however, he more than made up for it on the weekend. Knowing that upper management was away, he ratcheted up the ante. On Saturday, he sent a large bouquet of blue orchids. The note? The first stanza in Lord Byron's She Walks In Beauty.
The bouquet was absolutely stunning, and Bonnie almost wept when she read the poem.
On Sunday, it was Juliet Roses in the prettiest shade of blush she'd ever seen. The note with that was his own words; "Two rare and beautiful flowers; yet, neither hold a candle to you."
Talk about laying it on thick.
It was nice to be thought of, and before she realized it, she began to anticipate what he'd send next. The lingering looks from her coworkers made her uneasy, but the smile on her face never waned; she was walking on cloud nine.
The following week, things took a different turn. On her usual days off, Bonnie agreed to cover two shifts for Matt, who urgently needed time away. She didn't mind helping him out, but by Wednesday, she was starting to regret it. The week had started rough, and each day seemed to pile on more stress.
Monday and Tuesday came and went with no word—or gifts—from Elijah, and though she tried to stave off her disappointment, her thoughts were starting to get away from her. She told herself it was because she was typically off on those days, not because his interest had waned.
When she reached her building, she sighed with relief. The closest station to her house was closed, and she'd forgotten her flats, so the burn in the balls of her feet and calves was growing. Just as she was about to insert her key into the lock, a familiar voice startled her.
"You've yet to cash the check."
Bonnie flinched, her hand flying to her chest as her heart raced. When she turned, Elijah Mikaelson emerged from the shadows—she'd somehow walked right past him without noticing.
"You should also pay more attention to your surroundings," he added, his tone low.
Closing her eyes to steady her pulse, she glared at him. "I didn't say when I'd cash it," she retorted. "And stop sneaking up on people—it's creepy." Her frown deepened. "What are you doing here, unannounced again? Don't you have millionaire things to do?"
His brows furrowed slightly, and he recoiled, clearly offended by something in her tone. "I don't make it a habit to boast, but I believe you meant billion with a B."
"Excuse the hell out of me," she murmured as she turned to open her door. Once unlocked, she stepped inside and turned to face him, but before he could get a snarky word in, she held up a hand. "Shh. Just grant me the illusion of choice for a second, will you?"
Elijah's smirk broke into a full grin. "How quickly we learn."
Her smile faltered as she narrowed her eyes. "You can't just show up unannounced whenever you feel like it," she snapped. "For all you know, I could have other suitors. Did that ever cross your mind?"
Elijah's face remained impassive as Bonnie folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. His gaze raked over her curves before he pulled his attention back to her face. "You all but confirmed you didn't when you let me in the other night," he pointed out. Bonnie tilted her head, glaring as she searched for a comeback.
"Get in here," she demanded; this wasn't a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of the hallway. Once he entered, she shut the door and leaned her head against it, taking a moment to gather herself. This was bound to be a long afternoon.
"I didn't see a reservation come in for you," she remarked, wondering where he was staying—not that it mattered. The less her coworkers saw him, the easier it'd be to hide… this. She turned around to find him standing much closer than she'd anticipated, bumping into him with a soft "oof" escaping her lips. He didn't flinch.
"I won't be in town long. I only came to see you," he clarified, then added, "Why didn't you cash the check?" he asked, his tone calm but direct.
Bonnie ignored the butterflies that formed at his confession. "I forgot," she replied, trying to sound casual. "I'll do it tomorrow." The truth was, she had genuinely forgotten, but part of her felt uncomfortable depositing what she knew would be an obscene amount.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Go get it," he instructed. Then, more softly, he added, "Please," when her eyebrows lifted in protest. They stared each other down for a few long seconds before Bonnie sighed and relented, trying not to tally how many times she'd caved to him this week.
"You know, we're not at the hotel," she remarked as she retrieved the check, carefully avoiding turning it over. When she handed it to him, he tucked it into his breast pocket without a glance.
"And you're telling me this because?" His tone was neutral, but the sharpness in his gaze told her he was being intentionally difficult.
"Because I'm not at work, and I won't let you boss me around in my own home," she asserted.
Elijah's lips curved slightly. "I have no doubt you'll put me in my place if I overstep," he said, brushing past her. She closed her eyes as the scent of his cologne lingered in the air, fighting the urge to inhale deeply. "I think part of you enjoy relinquishing control," he added, rolling his sleeves to his elbows in a casual, deliberate motion as he draped his blazer over the arm of her sofa.
Bonnie's gaze lingered a moment too long as he unbuttoned his sleeves. The veins in his arms made her think briefly of her pink vibrator, and her cheeks flushed hot. She set her things down on the coffee table with a clink, determined to stay in control—at least for now.
"I think you tell yourself that every time you overstep your boundaries," she sassed. Though, there was no malice in her tone.
"As I said, if I truly offended you, you wouldn't let me continue," Elijah replied smoothly.
Damn him for being right. Bonnie bit back a response, knowing he had her but refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing it aloud.
"It was the phone, wasn't it?" Elijah raised a brow, encouraging her to elaborate, though she suspected he already knew. "You found me by tracking the phone," she offered. When he smiled, she nodded. "I knew it," she said, more so to herself.
"A happy accident," he explained, clearly amused. "Inadvertently, I linked it to my iCloud when I set it up, and while on the plane, I followed a hunch that led me to your building. Your doorman helped with the final half of the journey. By the way, how is he still employed?"
"Leave him alone, he's old, and I like him. It's not his fault the devil came and tempted him."
Elijah smiled at that. Bonnie reached into her bag, pulled out the phone he'd given her, and started fiddling with the settings.
"I expected him to say a million dollars. Imagine my surprise when all it took was a poorly engineered watch. I added the money for your benefit."
Of course, he did. Bonnie smirked at his ridiculous snobbery, wondering why she found it oddly endearing. "I thought Rolex was top of the line," she teased.
He gave her a pointed look. "It's fine for everyday wear, but I prefer Audemars or Patek."
She wondered if he knew how out of touch he could be. "Of course you do," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She disabled the location on the 'burner' phone effectively and lifted her gaze to meet his.
"There," she said with finality. "I don't need you tracking me." Though he knew where she lived now, she'd feel better not having to glance over her shoulders every second, looking for him to appear.
"That's fair," he conceded more easily than she'd expected. "Though it was only the one time." A smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered how she'd driven him to respond impulsively. It'd been a while since anyone's ruffled his feathers. "I suppose you got under my skin."
Bonnie paused, considering it a win. Finally. "Welcome to my world," she boasted.
She finally relaxed, sitting beside him on the sofa. With a stretch, she kicked off her heels and leaned back, sinking into the cushions. Her modest apartment had a cozy charm that usually made her feel at ease, but with Elijah sitting next to her, his presence made everything feel minuscule.
"How was your day?" he asked, catching her off guard. His tone was casual, but the genuine interest in his eyes surprised her.
"It kind of sucked," she admitted. "Mr. Saltzman checked in, and between him and his wife, I thought I was going to lose my mind."
"He's a pervert; stay away from him," Elijah said, his voice flat and matter-of-fact, making her head snap up in surprise.
"You know him?" The confusion was evident on her face until she remembered how close-knit the upper crest of society was. "I guess billionaires stick together," she teased.
Elijah's expression remained neutral. "Millionaire, not billionaire," he corrected. "And a kiss-ass. He exploits women in the worst ways, and I do not condone that kind of behavior. I'll make sure he never checks into your hotel again."
Bonnie bit her lip, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and discomfort. "No, it's fine. Difficult guests come with the territory." She knew, though, that she'd never see Mr. Saltzman again.
The narrowing of Elijah's eyes all but confirmed it.
"I mean it," she doubled down. "I can handle him."
"I never said you couldn't," Elijah replied, his voice soft but firm. "Just that you shouldn't."
"And what do you plan to do, Batman?" she teased, the joke bubbling out before she could stop it. "Beat his ass in a dark alley?" She laughed at her comparison, and so did he.
"I'll leave it alone," he relented. His eyes softened in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Just make sure you're never alone with him."
Bonnie opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her a look that brokered no arguments. Fine, she thought, a reluctant smile twitching at her lips. He could have this one.
"Am I one of your difficult guests?" He asked, his tone softer as he referenced her earlier comment.
"No," she replied with a smirk. "You're actually one of our favorites." He was quite popular amongst the women of their staff. If she resigned to workplace gossip, she'd have an earful for them. Specifically Jenna—his biggest cheerleader.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I'll make sure to be on my worst behavior from now on, then."
Bonnie laughed and stood up, stretching lazily. "You've been on your worst behavior all week, Mr. Mikaelson." Elijah's eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering on each curve as she unwound from the day's demands. "Since you've gotten comfortable," she continued, "give me a moment to do the same."
She grabbed her purse and keys, placing the latter in the catch-all near the door. With her heels dangling from one hand, she disappeared into her bedroom to change, leaving Elijah alone in the living room.
While she was away, Elijah took the opportunity to study her space more carefully, absorbing every detail. Bonnie was neat, as he had suspected, and in the daylight, he could fully appreciate her design sensibilities. Most of her furniture was black, and her style flirted with industrial chic—a masculine base softened by feminine touches. It led him to wonder if she had once shared this space with someone, a significant other perhaps. Whoever he was, he must have lost his place in her life, or else Elijah doubted he'd be sitting on her velvet green sofa otherwise.
He glanced at the bouquet of orchids resting on the windowsill in a glass vase, and on her kitchen island were the Juliet roses he sent. His eyes searched the room for the gold and red roses, briefly wondering if they were in her bedroom.
When she returned just under an hour later, he caught a glimpse of the white, heart-shaped box and flecks of gold petals sitting atop her dresser and smiled to himself. His chest swelled with pride, knowing his presence had subtly permeated almost every corner of her home.
"I didn't mean to take so long," she said, carrying a large device in her hands. Elijah's eyes followed her as she reclaimed her seat beside him, the scent of jasmine subtly trailing her. He mentally cataloged it as she turned to him.
"What is that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Bonnie laughed softly.
"Try not to be disgusted," she snorted. "It's a foot massager. I got it from Amazon." She explained as she placed her dainty little feet inside. She used the remote to turn it on and sighed as she fell against the couch cushions. "I'm always on my feet, so this was a good investment."
Elijah nodded, thinking of the reflexology treatment he had included in her spa appointment the week prior. "Am I not here at your disposal?" he asked, voice teasing yet controlled.
Bonnie blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "You're not rubbing my feet, Elijah." Her tone was firm, and though there was a playful lilt, she was clearly drawing a line. She had already crossed enough boundaries, letting him into her home and accepting his extravagant gifts.
A foot massage? That would push things too far.
"I've crossed too many lines already," she muttered, more to herself than him. She'd hate to end up jobless, standing in line at a soup kitchen with a dry mouth and a sore ass.
Elijah was silent, his gaze steady. She knew that look—he was preparing to apply pressure. Her resolve tightened.
"Who's going to know unless you tell them?" It was a very valid point.
Bonnie shook her head. "The truth always finds a way out."
"And is that so bad?"
"Yes, if it means I lose my job. I happen to like what I do for a living, thank you very much."
"It's a foot massage, not a marriage proposal. Give me your foot." His tone sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"No."
"Then spare me from that awful whining sound," he said, nodding toward the massager. She glanced down at the machine, laughing despite herself. The sound had been there all along, but she hadn't noticed until he pointed it out.
"You could always leave, you know," she offered with a half-hearted smile but ultimately turned off the device.
Elijah shifted closer, reaching past her to fluff the throw pillow beside her, then did the same with the pillow on his end, placing them together. His scent wafted over her as he hovered, and Bonnie finally allowed herself to take it in—if dark academia had a scent, it would be him.
"Lay back," Elijah instructed—his voice a quiet command that held a note of finality. The spell he had over her activated at that moment, and before she could think to resist, Bonnie found herself sinking into the pillows. She watched him through hooded eyes as he grabbed both her legs, pulling them gently into his lap, his hands surprisingly gentle for someone so controlled.
"Now," he murmured, his fingers grazing her ankle with just enough pressure to send a shiver up her spine, "finish telling me about your day."
Bonnie's mind drifted back to his comment about relinquishing control. To her dismay, she realized he might have been right all along. But she wasn't giving up control because he commanded it; she was giving it up because she wanted to, and if she were being honest with herself, that scared her more.
Each time she relaxed, she was giving in to him.
Her breath hitched as she watched Elijah's hands work ardently at removing the tension knots from her arches. His words were deliberate, and so were his touches, making it impossible to focus on anything else. With hooded eyes, her gaze shifted to the side of his face, and she watched as he focused intently on the balls of her feet. He pulled on each of her toes, and she sighed with relief as they popped individually.
"I'm waiting," he gently reminded.
His voice startled her from her thoughts. "It just sucked," she deadpanned, her voice quieter now—more relaxed. "Long shifts, difficult guests, annoying co-workers. Same shit, different day," she said, eyeing him once more. "But you knew that already, didn't you?" There was a hint of accusation in her tone, but it lacked bite, dissolving under the steady rhythm of his hands.
Elijah's fingers pressed deeper into the sole of her foot, and Bonnie exhaled softly, closing her eyes. His touch was deft and knowing, like he'd memorized the exact spots where tension had built in her muscles.
"I did," he replied, his voice low, almost soothing. "But I want to hear it from you."
Her eyes opened, watching the concentration on his face, the way his brow furrowed slightly as his hands moved over her skin. The way he massaged her feet was oddly intimate, as though he was learning her through touch. The sensation of being known so deeply stirred something within her.
"And what about you?" she asked, her voice hinting at the chaotic emotions brewing inside of her. "What have you been up to, Batman?"
Elijah smiled at the nickname, wondering if it would stick. His hands had drifted upward now, caressing her calves in slow, circular motions. Bonnie stifled a moan with a soft grunt when he kneaded a tight knot that felt so good she wanted to undress.
"Nothing quite as taxing as what you deal with, I'm sure," he answered, his voice laced with amusement. "But I've been preoccupied with… other matters."
The way he said it left Bonnie with no doubt that he meant her. She bit her lip and smiled. His hands moved higher, massaging her knees, and she felt her body respond in ways that made her pulse quicken.
"Do you make a habit of charming women with foot massages?" Bonnie deflected with a teasing smile, though the breathlessness in her voice betrayed her attempt at composure. The heat spreading through her body made her want to melt into his hands.
Elijah's lips curled into a half-smile as his thumbs pressed into the muscles just below her knees. "Rarely; only for my most special," he replied, the teasing tone unmistakable. Bonnie felt her face flush. Keep it up, Elijah. "Does it bother you that I'm charming?"
Bonnie chuckled, though the sound was shakier than she intended. "Charming, no. Calculated, maybe."
"Calculated?" Elijah raised a brow, his hands stilling for just a moment before resuming their sinful work. "I prefer intentional," he said, his eyes darkening with meaning. Every touch, every word—it was all part of a carefully laid plan, and she could feel it.
Bonnie swallowed as her throat went dry. This moment—so intimate—threatened to shove her off the ledge he'd placed her on years ago. The truth was, even though their interactions had intensified recently, the tension between them had been building for far longer.
Her eyes lingered on him, the weight of years of unspoken tension finally settling in. He'd always been the one to place her on that ledge—never pushing her too far, but never letting her forget he was there.
The fleeting voice telling her to stop this line of thinking vanished before it could take root.
"Has any of your devices made it this far north?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, sending a thrill through her. She watched as he shifted from one calf to the other, his hands deliberate and slow. For the first time in a long while, Bonnie was acutely aware of how touch-deprived she'd been.
When his gaze met hers, the weight of his question crashed into her. "What?" Her body went stiff, caught off guard. "What are you implying?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
The glint of humor did nothing to disarm her. She foolishly wondered if he could read minds or if there were cameras in her apartment.
"The foot massager," he said innocently. Though, there was nothing innocent about the look in his eyes. "What did you think I mean?" He pressed.
Bonnie blushed as images from a few nights ago surfaced. "Continue with my massage, Sir," she commanded, deflecting easily. He wasn't going to walk her into any traps, not today. "And stay below my knees," she specified.
Elijah's smile deepened, and he leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to her kneecap. "As you command, Princess," he smirked.
Bonnie's heart stuttered in her chest. As she lay with her feet in his lap, she silently mourned the girl she used to be—the girl who hadn't yet known what his hands felt like against her skin.
.xXx.
In a rare stroke of luck, Bonnie had the weekend off, and somehow, Elijah knew that. As she suspected, he was at her door Friday afternoon, waiting on her. She was beginning to notice a pattern.
"You know, if you were poor, this would be considered stalking, not flirting," she said, unlocking the door and allowing him inside.
"So, you've finally figured me out." He said, taking off his overcoat and placing it on the hooks with a familiarity that made her stomach flip. Bonnie watched as he moved around her apartment with an ease she could only blame herself for. It was the third time he'd visited in half as many weeks.
"The stalking?" She asked, her tone playful but edged with curiosity.
"The flirting," he corrected smoothly, his eyes glinting with that all-too-confident look she had grown both wary of and addicted to.
"This is how you flirt? Extravagant gifts and surprise visits?" She'd run out of excuses for the gifts and was now the talk of the office each time the courier showed up with something more lavish than the last.
"No. This is how I win you over so that I'm granted permission to flirt."
My God, she thought. Her pulse quickened at the casualness of his confession, but she covered it with a light scoff. "How current is your passport?" he asked suddenly.
"Nope. Absolutely not, Elijah." She raised a hand as if to physically stop him. "We're not doing this."
He grinned at how quickly she caught on. She was getting good at predicting his next steps. "Will you let me finish?" Bonnie relented, sitting on the couch next to him. He noticed she didn't leave much space between them this time and smirked.
"Go on, then," she said, determined to resist his charm.
"It's an eight-hour flight." She looked at him with a raised brow. "I'll have you back in time for your shift Monday morning." She tried to tune out the way her mind instantly began mapping out the logistics.
"Why am I even entertaining this," she muttered rhetorically.
"Consider it a chance for some much-needed R . When's the last time you've taken a vacation?"
She was ashamed of the answer. "Is this what you do for all of your women?" She deflected. "Shower them with gifts and acts of service until they give you what you want?" She recalled each of the women decorating his arm during each hotel visit.
"Only those I'm genuinely interested in," he replied without hesitation, his eyes conveying a deeper emotion. "Though I will say, you're the first to fight me at every turn." His eyes shimmered with amusement. She averted her gaze so he wouldn't see her blush.
"This is all new to me," she confessed, her voice softening. "I'm not used to being in the spotlight or being..." she trailed off, feeling exposed, "noticed."
She wasn't sure when her foot found its way into his lap, but Elijah immediately obliged, massaging her feet with a familiarity she no longer shied away from. His hands were warm and steady, a stark contrast to her cold feet and trembling heart.
When his thumbs pressed into her arches, she suppressed a moan. The way his hands kneaded her foot left her wondering what his kisses were like and if they were similar…
"I gathered," he murmured, his voice intimate. "Didn't you know that art is meant to be perceived?" Art. He'd just referred to her as art. Her stomach flipped again, but she didn't hide her smile this time.
"What do you expect to get from me if I go with you?" she asked, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. "And where are you taking me anyway?"
His eyes gleamed with victory. "Paris," he said simply, watching her reaction closely. "And I don't expect anything but the pleasure of your time."
Bonnie's heart skipped. Paris. The word alone had always carried weight for her. She'd been saving for that dream for years. And now, he was offering it on a whim.
"Was that a random guess, or did you somehow read my mind?" Bonnie asked, her voice laced with surprise. Elijah smiled, allowing her a glimpse into that calculating mind of his.
"The way you accessorize your work uniform was a clue," he began, his voice calm and steady. Bonnie instantly thought of the many scarves she'd collected over the years.
"Your handbags—they're all Paris-inspired." She then thought of her Longchamp and Louis Vuitton Speedy 30. He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting as he continued. "Your penmanship reminds me of vintage Parisian postcards from the 19th century. You use a fountain pen for my welcome cards, with stationary from a French company, and your wax seal is a lily flower."
Bonnie stared at him, silent and stunned, as he glanced briefly at the Eiffel Tower statue acting as a bookend on her bookshelf. "Then there were the Eiffel Tower figurines—just confirmation of what I already knew."
A breathless laugh escaped her. "How long have you been watching me, Elijah?"
Without missing a beat, he responded, "I don't watch. I notice."
She wished she could say it unsettled her, but instead, a warmth spread through her chest. His attention to every small detail was unnerving—yet it stirred something deeper. "How long have you been noticing me, then?"
"From the moment I laid eyes on you," he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard. His gaze held hers for a moment longer than necessary, and something shifted between them. She tilted her head as her eyes dropped to his lips, lingering for a heartbeat before returning to his. She had no idea how powerful the effect was, but Elijah felt it ripple through him as though her gaze alone was a siren's call.
The air felt heavier—charged—and suddenly, she was back on the ledge he'd placed her on, the threat of jumping growing with each interaction. And when that moment came, she realized with a strange certainty he'd be there to catch her.
Bonnie swallowed, her pulse racing. "Why didn't you approach me sooner if that's how you felt?"
Elijah's smile faded, replaced by something more serious. "We wouldn't have lasted," he said quietly. "Neither one of us was who we are today." His words hung between them, heavier than before. She deliberately chose not to ask what he meant by them "lasting."
Sighing, Bonnie shifted positions. The massage was finished, but she hadn't bothered to move her legs from his lap, choosing to enjoy the warmth he emanated instead. "You're asking me to isolate myself in a tin can suspended thirty thousand feet in the air with a man I barely know to fly to a country I've never visited," she teased, though her voice had a tremor of vulnerability.
Elijah chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made Bonnie feel the weight of his confidence. "I understand your reservations." He motioned for her to sit up, and when she did, his hands gripped her calf, pulling her closer. The warmth of his touch seeped into her skin, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate pressure over her neck and shoulders. Each stroke sent a wave of relaxation through her body, unraveling tension she hadn't realized she was holding.
"All I ask," he continued, his voice low as his fingers kneaded her shoulders, "is that you allow me to prove my intentions."
Bonnie sank into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as a shiver coursed through her. The tension in her muscles gave way beneath his hands, and despite her efforts, a quiet moan escaped her lips. If he heard it, he was gracious enough to let her pretend it hadn't happened.
For several minutes, she allowed the massage to carry on, losing herself in the moment before she finally responded. "Okay," she said softly, a sigh in her voice. She forced herself not to think of the consequences for once, and while she was nervous about the path she was headed down, she was more nervous about not taking the chance.
Like he said, who would know unless she told them?
Elijah's hands stilled for just a moment. "Okay, as in…?"
Bonnie smiled, her eyes slowly opening to meet his. She turned to face him fully, the warmth from his touch lingering. "Yes. I'll allow you to prove your intentions. And yes, I'll go to Paris with you."
Elijah's smile was wide, but there was restraint in his eyes as if he was resisting the urge to pull her even closer. He exhaled deeply, his hand brushing lightly over her neck. "Perfect. Pack light. We can be in the air within the hour."
Bonnie laughed, shaking her head as she stood. She felt the pull of his 'trap' once again, but this time, she wasn't upset about falling into it. Not at all. He knew exactly how much to press her, how far to push, knowing that when she was ready, she'd finally jump.
She disappeared into her bedroom, a quiet smile on her lips. If anyone asked, this wasn't a jump—it was a choice, a small leap into something she wasn't quite ready to name.
.xXx.
Elijah was right. What she experienced before was nothing compared to the stops he pulled once they landed in Paris. The gifts he'd sent could easily have been mistaken for something a business associate would send a colleague—minus the note cards. During the ride to the airport, he'd poured her a glass of Ace of Spades, coaxing her to relax. By the time they reached the plane, her guard was down, and her curiosity was piqued.
And as for the plane…
"I'm missing out on life," Bonnie muttered as she boarded the massive Airbus jet. The inside felt like stepping into a penthouse, and without thinking, she stepped out of her heels to feel the mink carpet beneath her toes. "This is unreal," she said as she made her way down what would have been an aisle on a regular plane. She turned to face Elijah, who was coming up behind her, holding her purse, heels, and weekender bag. She realized with a flush of embarrassment that she'd left them behind without a second thought.
"Thanks," she said, a slight blush warming her cheeks.
"Never mind these," he said with a nod toward the back of the plane. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back momentarily."
She waited until he disappeared before starting her own private tour. There were two bedrooms, each with king-sized beds, and the main bedroom, which she assumed was his, had an ensuite bathroom complete with a walk-in shower. The entertainment lounge, with its large projector, and the kitchen, equipped for far more than just pretzels and stale coffee, made her feel like she was stepping into another world.
When she made her way back to the main bedroom, she stretched out across the bed and sank into the comforter. The stress of the day weighed her down, and despite her playful thoughts about taking over his bed for the night, she was asleep before she could decide.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the same position. Instead, she'd been placed under the blankets, her hair neatly tucked into the silk bonnet she'd brought. She glanced down and exhaled in relief—still in the same clothes she'd boarded in. She moved to climb down but jumped when automated steps unfolded beneath her.
"Okay then…" she murmured, carefully stepping down after realizing the bed had been raised.
After ensuring there was no crust in the corners of her eyes, she ventured into the main area and found Elijah stretched out on the sofa, his eyes closed. His suit jacket and tie had been discarded, leaving him in his undershirt and trousers. Her gaze lingered on the way his arms flexed under his tank top, her fingers itching to trace the network of veins that ran the length of his forearms.
"Did you sleep well?" His voice startled her, deep and rich. Her thoughts got the best of her as she imagined waking up next to him.
"I did," she replied, crossing the room to join him while hiding her smirk. "What time does your watch say?"
He raised his arm from where it rested across his stomach, revealing the sleek titanium watch on his wrist, and cracked an eye open. "After 9," he told her.
"I can't believe I slept through takeoff," she chuckled. "I don't know what was in that bottle, but it knocked me off my feet," she mused with a shake of her head.
Elijah sat up to make room for her to have a seat. Once she settled, he laid back down, allowing his head to rest in the center of her lap. When her lips curled, he raised a brow.
"Problem," he challenged with an arched brow.
"I'll allow it," she said with a grin. Her fingers drifted to his face, gently cupping his jaw. "You need a shave," she teased, her thumb brushing the stubble on his chin. Absently, she scratched at his scalp as her thoughts wandered, pondering what the next forty-eight hours would hold.
When she came back to the present, she found him watching her intently, his gaze almost too serious for the light moment they were sharing.
"What plans do you have for us this weekend?" she asked, trying to shake the intensity.
"Is there anything you'd like to do?"
She narrowed her eyes and leaned in close to him. "Do you ever plan on answering a single question without a question of your own," she asked, using her finger to tap his nose sternly.
His smile widened. "It would ruin the surprise," he answered truthfully, pondering how he could glean information from her without revealing his plans. "Tell me what you'd like to accomplish, and I'll work it into what I have planned."
She chuckled. "Deal." Her eyes glinted as she agreed. "I want to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, cruise the Seine, tour the Louvre, see Versailles," she paused. "Just to name a few." She said as she thought of everything she wanted to gain from this trip.
"Ironically, that is most of what I had planned." He said, then added. "In no particular order."
Bonnie's smile nearly broke her face.
"How am I doing so far?" He asked, referencing their earlier conversation about proving his intentions. Bonnie glanced down at him with a genuine smile. He was doing an amazing job, but of course, she had to keep him humble.
"You're getting there," she said with a smirk.
"Then we're off to a good start," he said, settling back into her lap. "I suggest you get as much rest as you can. We'll be hitting the ground running."
And hit the ground running, they did.
.xXx.
They landed in Paris at six in the morning, the golden light of dawn just breaking over the horizon. Elijah had arranged for a helicopter to whisk them away on an early morning tour of the city. Bonnie sat in awe as they flew over every inch of Paris, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance, casting long shadows over the waking streets.
She'd never imagined her first impression of the city would be from the air, but it was nothing short of magical.
After the tour, they checked into the Cheval Blanc, where Elijah had reserved a seven-bedroom apartment—an extravagance Bonnie still couldn't wrap her head around. They shared a quiet breakfast—room service—brought to their private dining room. As they sipped coffee, the city began to wake outside, and Bonnie suggested a walk—a spur-of-the-moment decision she'd never have made alone, but Elijah made her feel safe enough to take risks she'd never dreamed of.
As they stepped out into the city, Bonnie felt the weight of their morning easing off her shoulders. The streets were alive with the hum of early risers, and—for once—she didn't feel out of place. Walking with Elijah made her feel as though she belonged here, in this moment. Paris was alive, and for the first time, she was, too.
They spent hours exploring the city, falling into easy conversation, with Elijah encouraging her to talk about everything that interested her. The more they talked, the more comfortable she felt, as if the tension between them unraveled with each passing hour. Yet there were still moments when Elijah completely stole her breath away, like when he arranged a surprise picnic at the gardens of Versailles.
They ate in the shade, watching the musical fountain show before touring the opulent halls of the palace and its gardens. Elijah lived within Bonnie's excited gasps and wide-eyed expression as she soaked in the world around her like a flower in the sun.
"You'll wear the same expression when we visit the Louvre," he teased as she admired the gardens. Bonnie smiled, already imagining the artwork waiting for her.
Later, they explored part of the Louvre, much to Bonnie's delight. It was late in the evening, so they had much of the place to themselves, allowing them to move quickly and efficiently through the massive halls of the museum. She was aware it would take several trips before she could even begin to scratch the surface of all the museum had to offer, but for now, they saw the highlights: The Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory of Samothrace, and her personal favorite, The Great Sphinx of Tanis.
By the time they returned to the apartment for a quick nap and a change of clothes, Bonnie felt a strange energy she rarely had back home. Whether it was Paris or the thrill of experiencing it with Elijah, she surprised herself by keeping pace with him, even after a whirlwind day. She noticed that, despite his lack of sufficient sleep, his stamina never took a hit, leaving her to wonder if it came with the territory of being a billionaire—with a B.
The night ended with a dinner cruise on the Seine, where a chartered yacht awaited them. The sun hung low in the sky, the last rays of twilight casting a soft glow over the river. At 10 p.m., the sky was still a light indigo, and the city lights twinkled as darkness crept in.
Elijah noticed the chill in the air before Bonnie did when her skin began to pebble, and without a word, he removed his blazer and draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered as he lifted her hair from the collar, and Bonnie turned to him, offering a smile in exchange for a 'thank you'. She welcomed fabric, warmed from his body heat, as it encompassed her and replaced the feel of his hands on her skin. She shivered, though she wasn't sure if it was from the cool air or the quiet intensity in his gaze.
"From this moment forward," he began, his voice low, "I need you to wear nothing but this style of dress." His eyes traced the lines of her figure, the red fabric of her coquette dress hugging her curves just right. The spaghetti straps left her neck and shoulders exposed, and every breath she took caused the tops of her breasts to rise ever so slightly. The dress ended just above her knees, leaving enough to the imagination, though Elijah's imagination seemed to be working overtime.
If he wasn't a gentleman, she'd be in a bit of a situation.
"I curse the weather for plotting against me," he teased, earning a soft laugh from her.
"Well, Sir, you're in luck," Bonnie replied, a playful glint in her eye. He raised his brow and ignored the way his stomach tightened at her use of honorifics. "I only have two of them, and I brought them with me." She tugged at his tie playfully
His eyes gleamed. "Only two?" She nodded in response. "I'll have to fix that." He promised, pleased when she gave no pushback. His gaze roamed over her again, lingering on the way the red brought out the green in her eyes. She took a step back, breaking the tension, much to his relief and frustration, and as she walked away, his fingers itched to tug at the corset strings resting at the small of her back.
Bonnie, oblivious to the effect she was having on him, sipped from her champagne glass. "Thank you for an amazing time," she said softly. "You've yet to show me the Eiffel Tower, though." She caught his knowing look and rushed to clarify, "From the inside."
Elijah smiled, placing his hands in his pockets. "In due time," he assured her. "I'm saving the best for last." He said as he imagined the look on her face once his plans unfolded.
Bonnie eyed him, taking the time to admire his attire. She realized then she'd never seen him wear anything other than a suit. The way his arms bulged at the sleeves of the black polo he wore made her eyes dazzle with delight. The creases on his slacks were just as detailed as he was, and she found herself smiling at the vision before her. The man did nothing half-assed.
Before her thoughts could drift, she turned to admire the view of the city from the river below.
"I think I prefer Paris at night," she told him. As they sailed past the Eiffel Tower, she stared up at it with wide-eyed wonder. From where he stood, Elijah watched the tower's lights reflect off her skin, painting her in soft, golden hues.
"So do I," he murmured, though he wasn't talking about the city.
.xXx.
The next morning, Bonnie awoke to the scent of something rich and buttery filling the air. She stretched, yawning as she realized the apartment was still bathed in the warm, golden glow of early-morning light. When she padded into the dining room, she stopped short at the sight of a full breakfast spread that looked fit for a king. Elijah was seated at the head of the table, a newspaper in his hands, looking every bit the gentleman. She couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, his voice smooth but casual, without looking up.
"Like a princess," she teased, grabbing the back of a chair, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You are a princess," he stressed, his eyes briefly flicking over the paper.
"I'm no one's princess," she laughed, though there was an edge of something unspoken beneath her teasing. When she saw the glimmer in his eyes, she braced herself for what was coming.
"You're my princess," he said, the words landing with a weight that sent a jolt through her stomach.
She swallowed, trying to keep her voice light. "And what does that make you?"
"Your humble stable boy," he said with a grin, folding the paper and setting it aside. Bonnie's laugh rang out, filling the room.
"Don't think so low of yourself," she said absently, walking toward him. "You're much more than that." She hadn't meant it to sound so genuine, but it did. And from the way his gaze softened as it roamed over her, Bonnie realized her words had landed with more weight than intended.
Selfishly, she didn't bother clarifying.
Deflecting, she smoothed her hand over the skirt of her dress. "You like?" She asked, spinning on the balls of her bare feet to showcase a dress identical to the one he complimented the night before. However, this one was white with small pink flowers on it. As she twirled, the morning light filtered through her curls, creating a halo effect.
"I love," he said with a bite of his lips. Bonnie's stomach somersaulted in anticipation, watching as he discarded the newspaper and stood to his feet. Gesturing with a sweeping hand, he offered his chair to her. "Your Royal Highness," he said, his voice low and teasing. He waited until she sat before tucking her in. He moved to adjust the straps of her dress, which had fallen during her movements, his hands lingering for just a beat longer than necessary. Bonnie pretended not to notice, though the smirk on her face let him know that she was doing the 'calculating' this time.
"Thank you, my lord," she quipped, playing along as she reached for a pastry.
But Elijah's hand caught hers delicately before she could grab it. His fingers brushed against hers, and she felt a current ripple through her, stronger than before. "Aht, aht," he murmured. "Tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you, M'lady."
She grinned, biting her lip as she slipped into character. "A croissant, for starters," she demanded, her voice mock-regal. "With lots of butter and preserves." And just like that, she was giving him order after order, slipping effortlessly into the role of being waited on—surprising herself with how easy it was to let him take care of her.
Once she'd eaten her fill, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a cappuccino—hands down the best she'd ever had. Bonnie sipped at it, savoring the rich foam on her lips as she gazed across the table at him.
"I have dinner planned tonight," he said. "How are you on clothes?"
Bonnie smirked over her cappuccino. "Knowing you, what I have won't suffice," she said truthfully, setting her cup down. She'd packed light as he instructed. All she had left was casual loungewear and her work uniform—just in case they cut it close.
"How quickly we learn," he snarked, ducking just in time to avoid the strawberry she lobbed his way.
.xXx.
By the end of the day, Bonnie had to laugh at herself for thinking the shopping trip would be brief. What started with a dress quickly spiraled into shoes, accessories, and even jewelry. When Elijah learned she'd bought her beloved Speedy 30 bag from eBay, he rerouted their driver to the Louis Vuitton Maison store in Place Vendôme.
Though she tried to laugh it off, Bonnie felt her heart flutter when the store practically rolled out the red carpet for them. This world—their world—was far removed from her own. And yet, standing next to Elijah, it felt strangely natural. Too natural.
With a belly full of champagne, Bonnie realized why wine was offered before making big expenses. She currently sat on the chaise provided as she glanced between two styles of Neverfulls.
"I think I'll go with the red interior," she finally decided as she took a sip from her champagne flute. She turned to Elijah.
"Do you need a wallet," he asked.
"I have one already, thank you," she said. She was, however, talked into allowing them to repair her current bag and ship it to her at no additional cost.
As they prepared her new bag and transferred all of her contents, Bonnie's eyes caught sight of the latest colors of the Capucines. "Oh my God," she murmured, standing to admire the display. "I finally get to see one in person." She sighed. "Is that tweed?"
Her voice went up an octave, and Elijah chuckled behind her.
"Do you want it?" he asked, an innocent smile curling his lips. Bonnie's head turned toward him, her eyes wide.
"That bag is at least seven thousand dollars. I have to draw the line somewhere," she said. She handed him her empty champagne glass and began to walk away. As much as she loved the idea of owning a Capucine, something about the whole situation—being pampered, whisked away, handed luxuries she never dreamed of—made her chest tighten. She wasn't sure if it was the champagne or the weight of all this excess, but for a moment, she felt out of place again. And the last thing she wanted was to feel like a guest in her own life.
Elijah chuckled and handed the glass to an associate. "It was just a question," he said innocently.
Bonnie wasn't buying it.
"I know you, and no, it wasn't." She shook her head, exasperated. "You've done more than enough. I'm happy with what I have." As she walked away from the Capucines, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride for saying no. However, part of her, a small voice she couldn't quite suppress, wondered what it would feel like to just let go and say yes. To fully indulge in everything Elijah offered without overthinking the cost.
Once her back was turned, Elijah winked at the associate, who smiled in understanding.
After selecting her items, her new bag was prepared, and Elijah stayed behind to arrange the delivery of her old bag, along with a few of the other items purchased that wouldn't be traveling back with them. Bonnie sat in the backseat of the car—after failing to make idle chat with the French-speaking chauffeur—waiting for Elijah to finish inside the store.
When he finally slid into the car, she eyed him with suspicion. "I don't trust you." She squinted. "You've got that look—like you just committed a crime and got away with it."
He chuckled, raising both hands in mock surrender. "I assure you, I'm an innocent man, Bonnie.'
"And I'm the Easter Bunny," she deadpanned.
Elijah laughed again. "Relax, I only bought a wallet for myself." He reached into his pocket, showing her the new purchase. When she didn't believe him, he showed her his old wallet as proof.
He draped an arm around her shoulders, and she relaxed into him. Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, he smiled when she blushed and nuzzled her in response. "How about we make our way back before dinner?"
Bonnie smiled, her suspicions easing. "Fine by me."
.xXx.
Elijah had left earlier to make the final preparations for their elusive dinner, and though Bonnie suspected dinner would take place at the Eiffel Tower, she had no time to confirm. The dress Elijah had chosen for her was stunning—black, with spaghetti straps and an open back that draped effortlessly over her curves. What she hadn't realized in the store was how high the side slit ran. Every step revealed just enough to turn heads.
As she entered the living space, her gaze fell on a perfume bottle with a note attached: For you. She recognized the label as one of Paris's famed fragrance houses, Maison Guerlain, and with one spray, her senses were enveloped in its rich, custom-made scent.
And it was to die for.
After one spray on her neck, she hesitated, then added more to her wrists and ankles, a force of habit she couldn't resist. The red-bottom sandals he'd chosen for her, O Marilyn's, were surprisingly comfortable, and she was thankful for that, considering how many steps she'd likely take. Just as she finished adjusting her jewelry, the doorbell rang, signaling her ride was here. With a sigh and a flutter of nerves, Bonnie allowed the chauffeur to lead her out for what would be her final night in what was fast becoming her favorite city.
The usual crowd around the Eiffel Tower was sparse tonight, something that immediately caught Bonnie's attention. The iconic lights twinkled across the Seine, casting a golden hue over the water, and for a moment, she just basked in the view.
As the chauffeur led her through a private entrance, Bonnie's heart began to race. She was escorted into a private elevator, which climbed the heights of the tower, and her nerves weren't just from the altitude. This night felt different, more intimate. The dinners they'd had before had always been casual, but tonight… tonight felt like a step she was crossing the point of no return, and as nervous as she felt, she didn't shy away from it this time.
She basked in the golden hue of twilight from the windows of the elevator and relished in the beauty of the city. The doors opened with a soft chime, and the concierge led her past the tourist areas of the tower into a private section. Double doors swung open, revealing an outdoor dining deck. Elijah stood waiting, a string quartet playing softly behind him, their music filling the night air.
A soft, breathless chuckle escaped Bonnie as she took in the scene. The effort he'd gone to… the detail… it was overwhelming. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her emotions at bay, not wanting to ruin the makeup she'd worked so hard on.
"Miss Bennett," Elijah greeted, his voice smooth and rich, matching the elegance of the night.
Bonnie smiled, her heart racing. "I must say, Mr. Mikaelson, I am genuinely impressed."
Elijah's eyes raked over her, taking in every detail as she approached. "As am I," he replied, his voice low and filled with something deeper. His gaze lingered on her lips, her collarbone, and the bare skin of her back. When she stopped in front of him, he leaned in close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her ear.
"Just as I imagined," he whispered, taking in the soft floral notes of jasmine. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he inhaled the scent of the fragrance he'd chosen for her.
A shiver ran down her spine. She tried to keep her voice steady. "It smells divine." She complimented.
"It's bespoke from Maison Guerlain," he answered, his smile softening. "Bonnie Éternelle—a play on La Beauté Est Éternelle."
"Beauty is eternal," she whispered in unison with his translation.
Bonnie's eyes sparkled as she remembered seeing the name on the bottle. "My French is elementary, but I was close," she said proudly, happy that she didn't have to rely on Google that time.
"Yes, you were." Elijah released her and guided her to the table. As soon as they sat, a Michelin-starred chef appeared, introducing himself and presenting the bespoke menu crafted specifically for her tastes. Every bite seemed perfectly tailored to her, and she couldn't help but marvel at how deeply Elijah had paid attention to her preferences.
Dinner was divine, but dessert left her completely awestruck. Before her stood a replica of the Eiffel Tower, made entirely of 24k gold-leaf chocolate, resting atop the Seine, depicted by vanilla ice cream.
"It's so beautiful I almost don't want to touch it," she mused, admiring the details. That hesitation melted away when Elijah scooped up the first bite and fed it to her. The flavors exploded on her tongue, and she moaned softly.
"Never mind," she murmured, opening her mouth for another spoonful.
After dessert, Elijah disappeared briefly, returning with a red, square box engraved with the word Cartier. He returned to find Bonnie standing, staring out at the city lights before them. She faced him as he approached, and her heart quickened with anticipation as she recognized the famous red box.
"To commemorate our evening," he began, opening the box with care to reveal the Etincelle de Cartier bracelet. "I want you to have this." Bonnie's breath caught in her throat. She smiled wistfully, holding out her wrist as he carefully clasped it. The bracelet caught the tower's lights, sparkling like the stars in the sky.
"It's beautiful," she whispered before meeting his gaze. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," she said earnestly. She placed a hand on her chest and choked back tears. "I'm touched," she said.
Gently, Elijah pulled her close, leaving no space between them as he smiled down at her. "Do I detect a crack in your armor?" She sniffled, rolling her eyes as she welcomed the laugh that rumbled in her chest.
"Shut up," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. She moved to pull away, but his grip tightened, grounding her.
She looked up, her gaze locking with his. For a moment, they just stood there, the world around them quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the string quartet. Elijah dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Not yet," he whispered, his eyes filled with promise. He lifted her hands, pressing his lips to each of her knuckles. "Look to your left."
Tearing her eyes away from his, Bonnie turned her head, catching sight of the Parisian skyline glittering under the night sky. But then, as the quartet began playing her favorite love song, the sky exploded with fireworks, casting vibrant bursts of green and gold over the city.
Breathless, Bonnie stepped forward, her gaze glued to the spectacle. She was utterly mesmerized.
While she watched the fireworks, Elijah watched Bonnie. On the outside, he was the epitome of calm, but inside, all of his major organs were in free fall as the feelings he kept suppressed began to unravel. He didn't allow himself to feel, but tonight, he couldn't help it. The depth of what was forming between them unnerved him, but there was no turning back now. He was in it, completely.
He only hoped that, eventually, she would be too.
As the fireworks show came to its grand finale, Bonnie's heart swelled with emotion. A shooting star streaked across the sky, and she gasped.
"Oh, look! A shooting star!" she called, pointing excitedly. "Make a—" Her words cut off as Elijah grabbed her arm and effortlessly spun her around, pulling her into his chest.
All the air left her lungs, but not from the force of their chests colliding. Her breath hitched, her eyes dropping to his lips just as they met hers.
His kiss was a slow, deliberate possession, consuming her by the second. Bonnie's lips parted instinctively, welcoming him inside, and the moment his tongue brushed against hers, the world fell away. Acting on her carnal desires, her body responded by winding her arms around his neck. She pressed herself closer to him, craving his heat, possessively wanting to be a part of his skin.
Elijah's hands cupped her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His lips moved against hers with maddening skill, slow and sensual, each stroke of his tongue igniting a fire in her veins. She felt his thumb caress the corner of her mouth, a gentle reminder of the control he always wielded over her—control she found herself willing to surrender in this moment.
The taste of him was intoxicating—faint traces of the champagne they shared earlier lingered on his lips, mingling with the heady scent of his cologne. She moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. Her heart raced, each beat pounding in her ears, and she knew without a doubt that she had finally crossed the point of no return.
Elijah's hands slid down her sides, skimming the curve of her waist before settling possessively on her hips. He pulled her flush, answering her need to be close to him as his fingers dug into her sides with a tantalizing ache. His body, hard and demanding, called to hers as she melted into him. Her resolve slipped away as she surrendered to him completely with each stroke of his tongue.
Her hands found their way into his neck, tangling in the soft strands of hair at the base as she tilted her head, giving him even more access. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, more consuming as if they were both starving for something only the other could give. Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue, sent a ripple of heat through her body, pooling low in her stomach.
Bonnie could feel herself unraveling beneath his touch, the lines between want and need blurring until all she could think about was him—his lips, his hands, the way he seemed to unravel her and hold her together all at once.
Her chest swelled tightly as she released a shuddered breath against his lips, and the need for air became too great for either of them to stave off any longer. Elijah pulled back slightly, his lips the only part of him separated from her.
His lips hovered above hers, his breath warm against her skin, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Bonnie's eyes fluttered open, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she met his gaze.
The intensity there made her stomach twist itself into a knot. There was no mistaking what this kiss meant—it wasn't just passion; it was a claim. And at that moment, she realized something that both thrilled and terrified her.
She was his.
Elijah's thumb traced her lower lip, similar to the night of the ball and the night he'd first shown up unannounced just to apologize to her. Both nights led to this moment, and though he'd turned her world upside down, she was grateful for it.
Her lip, swollen with passion and glistening from their kiss, itched to taste more of him, but with restraint, she'd have to give herself credit for later, she refused to act on impulse and placed a kiss on it instead.
As he spoke, his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I've waited a long time for that, Princess."
Bonnie swallowed hard, her heart still racing as she leaned into his touch. "Was it worth the wait?"
His smile was slow, wicked, and entirely too knowing. "Every damn second."
They stood there for a moment longer, caught in the afterglow of the kiss, the fireworks still bursting in the distance, but Bonnie barely noticed. She was drunk on passion and had him to thank for it. Her world had shifted, the axis tilting, but she wasn't sure what to do next. All she knew was that she wasn't ready to let go.
Not yet.
Her hand rested against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. Slowly, she pulled back, just enough to catch her breath, her lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. But as her eyes met his again, the weight of what they'd shared settled between them, undeniable.
She wasn't sure where this night would take them. Good, bad, or ugly, she was willing to see it through.
And as much as it scared her, she anticipated the outcome.