Page 10 of Drawn by Dragonblood (Blood Born #1)

Not a single sound caressed my ears, no hint of Elijah’s boring as fuck music, not even dripping water expected inside a cave.

My exhales broke the stillness as I strained to listen for the slightest noise.

My gaze flitted to the door on the right, and like my body knew Elijah was on the other side, I found myself moving in that direction.

The door sat ajar by a few inches, and breath held, I peeked through the crack.

A weight room, I noted from a quick scan of what I could see, but my focus honed in on the man lying on a bench beneath a barbell in its hold, his laced fingers atop his forehead as his chest rose and fell.

He rested between sets, most likely.

I’d never found a man’s bare legs attractive before, but the defined calf muscles and bulge of his thighs peeking from beneath the shorts were damn fine. I imagined Elijah standing and ordering me to kneel before him.

My dick twitched at the idea of him tugging on his cock inches from my face. My mouth watered over the thought of him rubbing the head slickened with pre-cum over my lips before telling me to open. His low voice rumbling to take him deep—swallow it all.

Fuck.

I bit back a groan and adjusted my swelling dick, even though the thought of Elijah’s spunk on my tongue should have grossed my straight ass out.

Guess that label needed to be tossed in the trash. I wasn’t bi or pan. Elijah-sexual? That sounded about right.

He reached up and grasped the barbell, readying for another set.

Like a sick fuck, I continued to watch him, every lift of the bar flexing his massive pecs and pulling a grunt from him.

He was a beast. The amount of weights on the ends bent the fucking barbell.

Thank Christ he had a safety bar slightly above his chest, but the man really should have a spotter when benching that kind of weight.

With that excuse in mind, I pushed the door inward and approached him.

Elijah grunted one last time and set the bar on its handles before I made it halfway across the room. He sat up, his focus landing on me. Sweat beaded his brow and every inch of his bare upper body. Like the stone around us, his muscles were cut, defined, and I expected hard as granite.

The intensity in his gaze twisted my stomach in a way that only one woman’s perusal had ever done.

“Is everything all right?” he asked as I forced myself to meander to a pull-up bar bolted into the wall.

I tried for my usual carefree grin and probably failed while wrapping my hands around the bar. He had every weightlifting apparatus imaginable, and most of it appeared brand new. “Guess when you live this far out, you need your own gym, huh?” I asked rather than answering.

Deflection at its finest, something I’d learned from my not-so-lovely foster parents.

Elijah’s low chuckle as his stare roved over my exposed midriff sent a shiver rustling over my spine. “I probably spend too much time down here.”

I bit back the compliment that almost rolled off my tongue about every minute obviously being worth it but couldn’t keep from sliding my eyes over his seated form again.

Forget the six-pack I sported—his was a fucking eight.

The rippled muscles disappeared beneath his waistband with a hint of dark hair leading southward.

A large-as-fuck bulge filled those damn shorts, and I swallowed against the rush of lust swarming me.

My asshole should have clenched not relaxed with the need to be stretched.

What the actual fuck?

I closed my eyes and gripped the metal in my hands, a simple contraction of my upper body muscles pulling me upward. A few reps cleared my head a bit and kept me from tenting my shorts, and even though my eyes remained closed, the heat from Elijah’s stare seared my skin.

I had to face the truth. My brow furrowed as the reps became tougher. I was thoroughly sexually attracted to a man and had to get the fuck over it…it was no big deal. Dakota and I would be gone tomorrow, back to our non-cushy little life and never see him again.

Why did that idea make my gut clench?

I lowered my body, the cool rock meeting my bare feet.

Elijah hadn’t moved from the bench, but his bulge had swelled and lengthened.

Averting my eyes as though they burned, I fought for something to say, anything to break the need-to-fuck tension flooding the room. “I had a dragon as an imaginary friend when I was a kid,” I blurted the first nonsexual thought I had.

“What did he look like?” Elijah asked the question as though the beast had been a real being rather than make-believe.

“He was huge and black as midnight. Pale eyes.” I tightened my grip on the bar and, unable to help myself, glanced over at Elijah while shifting from foot to foot.

He studied me until I stilled as realization settled in. His eyes were a blue so pale, so damn familiar that goose bumps broke across my arms.

“I think I need another beer,” I muttered and forced my feet to move toward the door.

“Don’t go.” His quiet command pulled me up short, but I didn’t turn.

Couldn’t.

Elijah released a slow exhale. “It’s…nice having someone share this space with me.”

Not exactly what I’d expected—or hoped? I turned, an eyebrow lifted. “No roommates or family?” I asked the question my usually cautious self should have done hours ago.

Elijah shook his head and turned away from me to grab a towel off the floor.

I tried like hell not to stare as he wiped his face and chest free of droplets of sweat that my tongue lusted to taste.

“No,” he finally answered me, wrapping the towel around the back of his neck, fisting the ends in his massive hands.

Hands I wanted on my body. Mapping every inch, tying me up, and taking what he wanted.

God damn .

I cleared my throat, fighting off a boner again. “How long have you been alone?”

“What seems like an eternity.” His lopsided smile didn’t reach his eyes as he stood. “Would you like a turn?” he asked, motioning toward the bench. “I find that physical exertion does wonders for restlessness.”

Maybe pumping some iron would help. “Why the fuck not—but you need some serious tunes going on in here if I’m going to hang out in your dungeon.”

I swore a growl echoed through the cavernous room, and my heart tripped.

Elijah’s chuckle sounded forced. “What is your preference?”

With a dominant man like him? Bottoming, no fucking doubt.

I swallowed hard at the needy ache in my asshole before clearing my throat. “How about some heavy metal?”

Elijah grimaced but asked his genie in the hidden speakers to play what I’d suggested.