His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 143

**Chapter 143**

**Claire’s POV**

Of course, today was the day she decided to be cheerful.

I cleared my throat, making a conscious effort to steady the frantic beating of my heart. “Yes, Mom. I’m up,” I replied, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Good! Breakfast is almost ready. And could you please call Elijah when you come downstairs? I think he overslept,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful.

Overslept.

Yeah, probably because last night we were making out like we were caught up in some wild frenzy against his wall. The thought made me swallow hard, the memory of his lips on my skin flooding back.

“Okay,” I managed to say, trying to keep my tone steady, as if my mind wasn’t busy replaying a vivid slideshow of his lips brushing against my neck.

My mom hummed happily as she walked away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As soon as I heard her retreating footsteps, I dropped my face into my hands, overwhelmed.

What was I supposed to do now? Act like nothing had happened? Pretend I hadn’t melted into a puddle in his arms? Pretend he hadn’t looked at me with that smoldering intensity, as if he were on the brink of losing all control?

And worse, pretend that I wasn’t still feeling the lingering heat of his touch, still remembering every moment, still desperately wanting more.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself off the bed, standing up slowly and grounding my feet on the cold floor. I needed to breathe. I needed to think. I definitely needed a mirror.

Unfortunately, one was positioned right across from me.

Great.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection and nearly groaned again. I looked utterly wrecked in the worst way imaginable. Not just messy or tired—ruined.

My lips were slightly swollen, and while I could easily blame that on a lack of sleep, I knew better. The evidence of last night was still evident, my hair tousled and wild from where Elijah’s fingers had tangled through it. And my neck…

Thank goodness there were no marks. Elijah had managed to explore every inch of my body except for the places that would leave visible evidence. It was a blessing and a curse all at once.

My stomach twisted at the thought.

“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head as if I could physically dislodge the memories. “You’re going downstairs. You’re going to eat breakfast like a normal person. You’re going to act like nothing happened. You are definitely not going to stare at his mouth for twenty minutes.”

I grabbed my robe, tying it too tightly around my waist, and forced myself to walk toward the door.

My hand hovered over the doorknob, and once again, last night replayed in my mind—the moment I had pushed him back against the wall, the sound he had made, the way he effortlessly lifted me, the heat radiating from his skin as he tried to pull away when my mother called him…

The way he had said my name, breathless, as his hands roamed my body…

I pressed my forehead against the door, feeling the weight of the day ahead of me. This was going to be a long day.

A very long day.

Finally, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of my room.

Whatever happened next… I would deal with it. Or at least pretend I could.

I changed into my school uniform as calmly as possible, even though my hands trembled slightly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elijah’s face too close to mine, heard the sound of his breath hitching, felt the warmth of his hands on my skin.

I shook my head vigorously, trying to dispel the thoughts. School. Focus on school. Think about classes, art practice, literally anything that didn’t involve his mouth on mine.

When I made my way downstairs, I found him sitting at the dining table, eating cereal with a suspicious expression that screamed, “I am pretending everything is normal.”

He didn’t look up when I walked in. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he shoveled cereal into his mouth as if it were the only thing keeping him from spiraling into chaos.

“Morning,” I said carefully, testing the waters.

His hand froze around the spoon for half a second, then he nodded, his voice stiff. “Morning.”

That one simple word in Elijah-language usually meant that alarms were blaring somewhere.

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