Elias (New Adult Romance) (West Bend Saints Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

months since we had sex, since he touched me in any way, shape, or form.  That wasn’t by my choice.  He blamed it on his “art,” this new album he was doing that he wanted to “channel his energy” into.
    When the car came to a stop again, I was jerked out of my thoughts.
    “Pit stop,” Elias said.
    "Duct tape and rope?" I asked, grinning.
    "How'd you know?" he asked.  "It was going to be a secret surprise."  He got out of the car, and as I opened the car door, caught the handle.  He reached for my hand as I slid out of the seat.
    "Come on, now," he said.  "Don't tell me those Hollywood boys aren't into opening car doors for you."
    "Not really."
    "Damn shame," he said.  He walked quickly, and I found myself a step behind him on the way toward the store, distracted by looking at his ass.  Then I noticed his gait was slightly unsteady, but before I could think about what that meant, he turned his head.
    “Looking at something?” he asked.  His voice had the same light-hearted tone as before, but there was an edge to it this time.
    Your ass, I wanted to say.  It was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t open my mouth.  I shook my head, suddenly mute.
    A dark look crossed his face.  “My leg?” he asked.
    “What?”  I was confused by what he was asking.
    He pulled his pant leg up slightly.  “There it is,” he said, and I felt embarrassed, but not because of his leg.  I was embarrassed he caught me staring at his ass, and now he thought I was some kind of jerk, staring at his prosthetic.  I knew my face was red.  I could feel the heat streaked across my cheeks.  I had been in the limelight for so long now, I wasn’t easily embarrassed.  Yet this guy, whose name I only just learned, had this way of making me flush.
    In more ways than one.
    “That’s not what I -”  I started to say, then stopped, because he was already walking away toward the store.  I had to jog to catch up with him, and when I did, I put my hand on his arm.  “Elias.”
    “What?”  He paused, looked at me, his eyes narrowed.  They were this cobalt blue color, so bright it looked almost unnatural.  
    He really should be a model or something, I thought.  My manager would be drooling over him.  I wondered how he’d gone his whole life without being discovered.
    "It's no big deal.  It's a prosthetic," he said.
    “I wasn’t looking at your leg,” I said.  “I didn’t even notice it until you just showed me right now.”
    “Seriously," he said, his tone patronizing.  "Let it go.  It's not a big deal, but you're making it one.  You were staring; people do all the time."
    “I wasn’t.” I said, this time more emphatically.  “I’m not an asshole."   Why am I even bothering to defend myself to this guy?  Who cares what he thinks?
    “No,” he said.  “But most people love freak shows.  Isn’t that the basis for most reality television?”
    I felt heat on my chest, radiating down my arms.  I could feel it on my skin.  I always got this rash when I was upset, all red and prickly like hives.  My mother used to say it was because I was allergic to emotion.  It wasn’t a good quality to have in an actress, but hardly anyone knew about it, at least when I was on set.  I managed it.
    “You do know who I am,” I said.
    “What the hell are you talking about?”  He seemed genuinely confused.
    “Reality show?” I asked.  I realized I was standing closer to him now, pointing my finger at his chest.  “Is that some kind of snide comment about my wedding?”
    "Wedding?" Elias asked.  He made a noise, and I couldn’t tell if it was a cough or a laugh.  "What are you, some kind of runaway bride?"
    “No.”  I paused, forgetting for a minute that I was angry.   I guess I am, aren't I?  “Sort of.”
    “So, you're what, some kind of reality star getting married?" he asked.  The corners of his mouth were turned up at the edges and he crossed his arms across his chest.  He was fucking