Not in Love (Not in Love, #1)

by Ali Hazelwood

The way he pulled at the hem of his shirt to wipe his glasses clean.

She's just like me. this would get me too

“Good boy,”

Eli, on the other hand, was a man’s man. An outwardly simple, nice guy who used power tools and rescued kittens from burning houses and knew statistics about the NFL draft. Appealing for a whole other set of reasons.

“We should dance,” Eli offered. There were no tells that he was joking. “Should we? Why?” He shrugged, and abruptly he seemed lost, as uneven as I always felt in his company. “Because I like your dress,” he said, nonsensically. It occurred to me, for the first time since our meeting three nights ago, that maybe he didn’t want this, either. Maybe he, too, was desperately fighting off this inexplicable attraction between us. Maybe his success was just as abysmal as mine. “Because I like you. As a person.” His eyes were teasing all of a sudden. Warm. “Even if you don’t like me.”

“She’s right,” he murmured softly. “About what?” “You do look beautiful.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “It’s the dress. And the makeup.” “No. It’s not.” His eyes lingered on me, then shifted away. I couldn’t bear the silence.

“You need someone to call if—” “What about I call you?” I joked. “Yes, please. Please, fucking do that. Do you want my number now, or…?” He stared, waiting for an answer.

king of yearning and pining and begging

“I’m sorry.” His Adam’s apple moved. “I forget to look at other things, when you’re around.”

For however long you wanted. Wherever you wanted. I’d consent to any and all demands, and it’d be so good that you’d probably just ruin me for the rest of my life, and I’d just sit there, grateful.”

He was her servant. Anything she wanted, Eli would do it.

the impulse to carry her to his home and keep her there for months or until this mess with Kline was over, whichever came first, was so overwhelming, he had to consciously get a grip.

“Now you can suck me off,” he said.

What if he took her out for drinks to discuss the merits of high-pressure processing versus thermal techniques, and his fingers brushed against hers across the table? What if he did her laundry to silently thank her for some of the best sex of his life? What if he tied her up, fucked her ass, and made her like it?

He was going to look at her until he died or until his eyes wore off, whichever came first.

he’d give her everything, anything, if only she’d let him come over to her place and do this for her seven days a week for the rest of his natural life.

“Good girl,”

“Take it.”

And finally, humiliatingly, he begged, “Please.”

DING DING DING

Ask me for anything, he thought, anything at all, and watch me give it to you. Whoever came before me, they had no idea. I’m up for the challenge.

“Good girl.”

Be a good girl and don’t move.”

“Like in The Hunger Games?” He halted. “You read The Hunger Games?”

“Come to my place. Let me take care of you. Let me teach you how to pet dogs. Exposure therapy, sweetheart.”

tingle in my toes

He kissed my cheek, open-mouthed. “You moving in. You, quitting your job so we can do this twenty times a day. Me, retiring to service you full-time. Us, fucking around for the rest of our lives. Does it really not sound like a fantastic idea?”

Eli was going to keep his own temper in check out of respect for her. But he had his limits, which was why he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “You can’t act this way around her, okay? Because she’s going to get sad. And if she gets sad, then I’m going to get mad. And there will be consequences.”

Rue laughed again, and had he ever yielded more power than right at this moment? Had anything felt better than making her smile when she’d been crying only moments ago? It was fucking intoxicating. Screw science or finance—this could be his craft. He could spend the next few years learning the nooks and crannies of her moods, studying her temperament, cataloging her disposition in all its little idiosyncrasies, and once he’d accrued an adequate body of research, it would be his mission and his pleasure: make Rue Siebert happy.

He's perfect

“Good girl.”

“Doing what she’s told. And you know what good girls get? I think you do know.”

“Out of all the people I’ve met, the things I’ve wanted, the places I’ve been, none has ever felt as necessary as you do.

she made him yearn like he’d not thought himself capable of,

Say it with me, men who yearn , earn

Rue, I’ll do whatever you ask, but please take pity on me because I don’t know if I can take more of this

If she offered him a thank-you blow job, he was going to wail like a fucking baby.

He’d told her that he loved her, and she was admitting to enjoying his company.

my woman

“And I’m going to—I’m going to want to see you every day. I’m going to learn more dishes and pack your lunch and write cute little notes on it. I’m going to ask you if you want to sleep at your place or mine and always assume that we’re spending the night together. I’m going to think about you all the damn time. I’m going to assume I’m watering your plants when you’re out of town. I’m going to hold your hand in public. I’m going to kiss you in public. I’m going to organize surprise parties for you with your friend. I’m going to send a hundred texts per day with stupid online shit I think you should see. Clingy as fuck, Rue. Can you do it? Can you live with me as your boyfriend?”

Just absolutely sobbing

“I can imagine worse fates.”

“For someone who lets me tie her up and slide plugs up her holes on a weekly basis, you’re a traditionalist.”