Текст книги "Wanted"
Автор книги: J. Kenner
Соавторы: J. Kenner
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He was so damn close—but I had other plans for that gorgeous cock, and I slowly withdrew my mouth, then eased my body up. Now, I did more than just straddle a thigh. Instead, I straddled his hips, and in slow, careful moves designed to drive us both crazy, I let the tip of his cock stroke my slick cunt.
I was so damn ready, and this was torturing me as much as it was him. But as I moved—as I denied myself the pleasure of slamming my body down hard and impaling myself on him, of having him fill me in one glorious, deep thrust—I understood how he had survived so far without actually fucking me. Because this anticipation was just as exciting as the act itself, and if I were a stronger person I could have teased him forever, and with the greatest of pleasure.
But I wasn’t that strong.
What had Cole called it? Evan’s capacity for self-deprivation? Well, I didn’t have it. I wanted him. Needed him. Had to have him right then, because my senses were on overload and the only thing that could keep me from imploding was the feel of this man inside me.
Fuck it. I couldn’t wait another second, and I thrust downward, crying out as my body stretched wide to accommodate him. I rose up, then slammed down again, leaning back so I could hold on to his legs even as he reached up and grasped my hips, forcing me to go deeper, harder, faster.
He was close. I could tell by the way that tension was building in his body as we moved together, and I arched back, moaning with pleasure at the way he filled me—and then squealing in surprise and delight as he grabbed me tight and rolled us over, tumbling me onto my back with our bodies still joined.
“Evan!”
His kiss was hard and demanding and very effectively shut me up. “You didn’t wait for me to get a condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” I said. “And I assumed you were clean.”
“I am,” he said.
“So that’s why you stopped?”
He laughed. “Baby, I’m still inside you. Is that stopping?”
“No, but—”
He pressed his finger over my lips. “I seem to recall mentioning to you that I like being in control.”
“Oh. Right. You might have said that,” I admitted, squirming beneath him. “I think you liked letting me take over for a while, too.”
“Careful. That’s the kind of thing a woman can get punished for.”
“Is that so?” I asked playfully.
“Hell, yes,” he said, returning my smile with one of his own, and then staying perfectly still.
He was still hard inside me, and yet he wasn’t moving. I groaned in protest and tried to shift my hips in silent demand. But I couldn’t do much; he’d trapped me good and tight.
I was beginning to understand what he meant by “punishment.”
He grinned knowingly. “Frustrated, Lina?”
“Even if I were, I wouldn’t admit it.”
He laughed outright, and the sound delighted me. “How do you do that?” I asked.
“How do I do this?” he asked, moving slowly inside me.
“Oh, thank god. Finally,” I said, arching up to silently urge him to thrust deeper. “But what I meant was, how do you send this melange of emotions coursing through me?” I had to concentrate on getting the words out. “You take me to the edge, you make me feel like I’m the manifestation of sensual pleasure. And then you turn it on its head and make me laugh out loud.” I paused for just a heartbeat. “I don’t remember ever having so much fun in bed.”
He slid up my body and kissed me gently. “Me either. Of course,” he added, his tone sharpening a bit as he traced his fingertip over my naked breasts. “As I believe we’ve already established, we’ve barely scratched the surface of what I can make you feel.” As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over my nipple, the friction making the nub even tighter. He squeezed his fingers tighter, intensifying the pleasure—and the pain.
“Oh, really?” I concentrated on his fingers, on that pinching sensation that hurt a little, but at the same time felt remarkably wow, as if everything I wanted to feel had been captured and held there for me to experience. I remembered his words in the alley—the way he’d wanted to pinch my nipples. To spank my ass.
I felt the muscles of my sex clench around him, already anticipating the new onslaught of sensations to come.
From the way he smiled at me, I could tell he’d felt my body’s response—and understood exactly what it meant.
“My Lina wants something,” he said.
I licked my lips and turned my head slightly so that I wasn’t looking at him dead-on. “I was just thinking about what you said. About how taking control was the kind of thing you might punish me for.”
“Were you? That’s an interesting direction for your thoughts. Would you like to elaborate? Maybe be more specific?”
I slanted my eyes at him. “You made me promises.”
“Did I? You may have to refresh my memory.”
He released my nipple, then trailed his finger down, lower and lower to where our bodies were joined. He moved inside me languidly, and as he did, he slipped his finger over my clit, making me bite down on my lower lip as my breath came in painful, wonderful jolts.
He took his finger away, stopped his thrusting, and looked down at me, his expression smug.
“Bastard,” I muttered.
“What do you want, Lina?”
“I want—I mean, I’ve never been—oh, fuck it. I want you to spank me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been naughty,” I murmured, because I was certain that’s what he expected me to say. “Because I need to be punished,” I added, turning my head away because I knew it was true.
“Good girl,” he said as he began to slowly move inside of me. I felt the pressure building and closed my eyes, wanting to get lost on the cresting waves. “No. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
“It was a good answer, but it wasn’t the right one.” He kept up the motion, that delicious friction building with such slow intensity that it took all of my effort to focus on his words. “I don’t know what you think you’ve done, but it’s not important. Because it’s not about punishment, at least not with me. The control, the bondage, the spanking, even the pain—it’s all a road, Lina. A road that leads to pleasure. It’s acceleration before flight. The priming of the pump. The buildup to climax.”
He traced his fingertip over my nipple, then over my lips, then gently slid inside my mouth as I sucked, the digit mimicking the thrusts of his cock.
“Call it whatever the hell you want,” he continued. “But I promise you that pleasure is the goal. I’m not interested in hurting you. I’m not interested in punishing you. I’m only interested in pleasing you.”
He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. “You do,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can’t have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you’re going away. I need to know that you’ve surrendered to me.”
“I have. I will.” Hell, right then I’d do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.
He didn’t, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.
He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. “I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too.”
“I do,” I said. “I want it.”
He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”
I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, “Oh, baby.” And then I felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. “Say it like you mean it,” he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.
“I want it,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung—though I’d even go so far as to say they hurt—I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more—hell, I wanted everything.
He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. “What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”
“Keep going,” I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. “Please, do it.”
He answered with another sharp smack. “Tell me again what it is you want?”
“I want you to spank me.” I want you to fuck me.
“Tell me what you want.” Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. “Tell me,” he repeated, his words followed by another spank.
“You. I want you, Evan. I’ve always wanted you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I’d revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.
“I have to have you now, Lina. I can’t last another second of not being inside you.”
I tried to say yes, but it wasn’t necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn’t have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.
He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.
He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he’d reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.
I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.
“Evan.” I said his name like a prayer.
He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.
“Lina,” he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn’t entirely sure that he’d meant for me to hear it.
Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.
I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.
I closed my eyes, and his soft, “You’re wonderful,” was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.
fifteen
“I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me,” I whispered, as I woke in Evan’s arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.
“I’m glad.” He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. “I don’t like that you’ve ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They’re not real, you know. They’re survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don’t have to feel guilty for being alive.”
“I don’t,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Not because I’m alive.” I sucked in air. “It’s because she shouldn’t have even been out of the house that night.”
I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn’t actually certain I was making sound. I’d never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself—that I shouldn’t build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks—the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.
“I’d been sneaking out a lot,” I continued. “Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn’t. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business.”
“But that night she followed you?”
“And that was the night they took her.” My voice broke on a sob. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t even know she’d followed me until the next morning when she wasn’t in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she’d snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood.” I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. “I never told anyone.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” He stroked my hair. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “The universe is a fucked up bitch, and she doesn’t play by the rules.”
“I stopped, you know. That very day I stopped sneaking out and acting wild and cutting loose. I turned myself completely around.”
“Did you?” he asked. “Yourself? Or your behavior?”
I didn’t answer, but he was dead on the money, and I think he knew it. Nothing inside me had really changed. I’d just locked it up tight.
He sat up, then pulled me onto his lap. I leaned in close to him and sighed. I didn’t like playing true confessions, but at the same time it felt good to have shared my secrets. Or, rather, it felt good to share them with Evan.
“I’m an absolute wreck you know,” I said. “I think you must be a saint for putting up with me.”
His low chuckle thrummed through my chest. “Hardly. And you’re not a wreck.”
“Oh, I am.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “You say you’ve wanted me for so long, but I don’t think you’re seeing the person you think you’re seeing.”
“No? You told me before that I see you.”
“Wishful thinking, maybe,” I said.
“No.” The word was strong and simple and held a world of understanding. “You were right. I see you. I do. I see what you are.”
“What am I?” I asked, hating how small and insecure my voice sounded, but I had to know. Had to hear.
“Beautiful, vibrant, smart. You’re selfless. You’re empathetic. And though you may not always be correct, you always do what you think is right. And,” he added with a mischievous grin. “It turns out that you’re quite talented in bed.”
At that, I laughed out loud.
“I see you,” he repeated. “I see the core of you, Lina. The heart. And I damn sure hope that’s what you see in me, too, because my top coat may be shiny and bright, but underneath that you’re going to find a lot of tarnish.”
“And beneath the tarnish?”
“Much shinier,” he said. “But very hard to get to. Except for Tyler and Cole, Jahn is probably the only one who ever has.”
I sat up straight so that I could see his face better. “That’s sad,” I said, but even as I spoke, I realized that his words could apply to me, too. How many people had I truly let in? Honestly, except for Jahn, I could think of none. Not even Kat. Not even Flynn.
“What about your mom and your sister?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. To a degree. But they’re not around. They moved away years ago. I hardly ever see them anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” I regretted bringing it up. I remembered now that the various articles I’d read had talked about the fact that he’d worked his ass off to move them out of Chicago so they could make a better life elsewhere. He’d remained behind, running the businesses that had earned the money to finance their move.
“It must have been hard,” I said. “Growing up the way you did. Your father’s death, and then having to shoulder so much when you were so young.”
His smile was humorless. “Just how many articles have you read about me?”
I shrugged. “All of them, I think.”
As I’d hoped, he laughed.
“Fiction writers aren’t the only ones who spin stories, Lina,” he said.
“It’s not true? The way you took care of your mom and your sister?”
His expression was both harsh and wistful. “I did—and will always do—whatever is in my power to protect my family. I will take any risk, I will make any sacrifice, I will do whatever it takes to turn the odds to my favor. And I will never regret a single choice I made where those two women are concerned.”
The passion in his words reverberated through me, and I couldn’t help but picture a young Evan carrying such a huge burden. That he’d not only survived but thrived—was just one more bit of proof that this man was exceptional.
“The universe is fucked up,” I whispered, remembering the words he’d spoken to me—and wondering what risks he’d taken, what sacrifices he’d made, and how, exactly, he’d shifted the odds in his favor.
“Yes,” he said harshly. “It is.” He met my eyes. “Don’t ever be naive, Lina. Whatever you’ve read—whatever you think you know—keep in mind that the press coverage about me doesn’t even come close to the truth.”
I frowned, knowing this was an opportunity. I’d told him about Gracie; if I asked, he just might tell me the truth. About what happened after his father died. About all those secrets Jahn had mentioned. About all the things that Kevin had hinted at.
And yet I didn’t ask. I didn’t say one single word.
I’m not entirely sure why I held back. All I knew was that the sexy, dark, dangerous man I’d fantasized about was finally in my bed, and would be for the next three weeks. Did I want to risk that high by bringing reality into the mix?
I didn’t, and so I stayed silent, gently stroking my hand over his. His knuckles had healed quite a bit, but they were still red, the skin obviously tender. “There was trouble with one of the women who works at Destiny,” he said, though I hadn’t even lifted a brow in question. “I had a little chat with the man causing the trouble. Now there’s no more trouble.”
I thought of what went down in the alley and could easily imagine him protecting the girls. I hoped the man’s face looked one hell of a lot worse than Evan’s knuckles.
I kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad.”
He met my eyes and held them, and the moment had the quality of a salute. As if he not only approved of my words, but I’d passed some sort of test. He smiled, just a little, then he laid his head back and closed his eyes. I settled against him. Even though it was still ridiculously early, I knew that sleep would elude me. I wasn’t yet awake, but at the same time I was full of energy.
I let my fingers explore his body, stroking his chest, easing up his arm. The vibrant green of the vine tattoo popped in the dim light, and I traced its outline with my fingertip, feeling relaxed and lazy and so very comfortable with this man. “Does it mean something?”
He turned his head toward me, his eyes barely open.
“It’s a reminder,” he said. “Let’s just say it keeps me focused.”
I waited for him to say more, but he just turned his head back and closed his eyes again.
I thought of what Jahn had said so many years ago—about how Evan had secrets. His own, and those he keeps for others.
I might have guessed at some of his secrets, but as I looked at Evan, resting peacefully beside me, I had to acknowledge that I didn’t really know the man at all.
But, damn me, I wanted to. I so very desperately wanted to.
I woke again a few hours later to the incredible scent of coffee and the even more incredible man smiling down at me.
“Hey,” he said, passing me the mug. “Drink up. Get dressed. We need to get going.”
I blinked at him. “Going? Where?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation.
“Then you’ll see when we get there.”
I took a long sip of coffee and felt life returning. “Do I have time for a shower?”
“A quick one,” he said.
“Do I have time for a shower with you?”
He laughed. “That wouldn’t be quick.” He leaned over and kissed me, long and deep and so scrumptious it curled through me, setting me just a little bit on fire. Yeah, I thought. It wouldn’t be quick at all. “Now go,” he said, taking the mug and then tugging the sheet off me as I squealed and scrambled out of bed.
He patted my ass as I hurried by, and I paused long enough to shoot him a saucy grin. “Naked and soapy,” I said. “But I guess you’re going to miss it all.”
“Vixen,” he said, then laughed.
When Uncle Jahn had remodeled the penthouse, he’d wanted every guest to feel as much at home as Jahn himself did. And to that end, he’d focused on making each of the four guest suites as stunning as possible. Each had a bedroom that was beyond gigantic with a full wall of windows with a view of either the lake or the city. The bedroom abutted an adjacent sitting area complete with decadent furniture, a wet bar, and the most important of all essentials: the coffee station.
But it was in the bathrooms that Jahn’s generosity really shined. Unlike most homes in which only the master suite had a bathroom with bells and whistles, in Jahn’s condo, every guest was treated as royalty, too. And the bathroom that had become mine when I’d moved in and selected my suite was absolutely my most favorite room in the entire penthouse.
The walls were a combination of dark teak and white marble with pinkish veins that gave the room a classical yet slightly funky feel. The shower stall was bigger than the entire bathroom in the apartment I’d shared with Flynn and had a line of showerheads descending from floor to ceiling, and two other lines arching out for almost 360 degree coverage. Teak benches lined two walls of the stall, and except for the glass door and one glass wall, the walls were made up of that marble I loved so much.
The glass wall looked in on the sauna that was positioned beside the shower, and next to that was a steam room. Adding to the spa-like theme, there was a giant whirlpool tub, an entertainment center with the television hidden behind the huge mirror, and a beverage center, complete with a carbonated water dispenser and a wine fridge.
When you also considered the dressing-room-style closet—which would comfortably house a family of five—the bathroom crossed the line from freaking awesome to fan-fucking-tastic.
The only thing what would make it better was if Evan was with me, but if time was an issue I had to concede that it was probably for the best that he’d declined my offer.
Still … he was on my mind as I turned on the ceiling-mounted rain-shower head, then brushed my teeth while I waited for the water temperature to adjust. He was even more in my thoughts when I stepped into the warm, wet spray.
I tilted my face up, letting the water run over my skin and soak my hair. There was a shampoo dispenser in the wall, and I put some into my hand, then rubbed it over my head. My hair was thick enough that it took a while to soap it up well, and even longer to thoroughly rinse it. I closed my eyes and let the water fall onto my face and then sluice down my body in warm trails.
I didn’t hear him come in, but even before he touched me I knew he was there. Maybe it was a shift in the ambient noise. Maybe there was a change in the light. Or maybe I was just attuned to his presence, connected to him now as I’d never been to anyone before.
All I know is that I felt no surprise when he pressed up behind me, his erection teasing my rear as his hands cupped my breasts.
Neither of us said a word, but I leaned back as he stroked me, his strong hands playing with my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples. He trailed one hand down my belly to find me slick and wet and ready. His fingers stroked me, filling me, and finding my sensitive clit, and I gasped as he brushed his finger over it, sending ripples of warmth coursing through me.
His fingers played with me, moving slowly and sensually in teasing strokes designed to drive me wild, and he kept it up with minute attention until I knew that it was a good thing he was holding me upright, because my legs felt so weak I knew I would collapse if he even thought about letting go.
I was so close to release that I actually whimpered when he pulled his hand away, but he wasn’t done with me. He moved me forward, bending me at the waist and putting my hands on the wall. Still, he said nothing, and I smiled as I stood there, my hands on the warm stone, my rear pressed up against him. He stroked my back, his hands sliding down either side of me until he reached my hips. He used his knee to ease my legs slightly wider, and then—as I closed my eyes in sweet anticipation—he slid his cock deep into me.
I was so wet, so damn ready, that he entered easily, my muscles contracting to draw him in farther, as if he were part of me. As if in the short time since he’d last been inside me I’d lost a part of myself. His thrusts were deep and powerful and demanding, and I could feel his body tense as he got closer and closer.
I took one hand off the wall, then slid it between my legs, finding my clit and stroking it faster and faster in time with his thrusts. Water sluiced over us, but I felt none of it. All I could feel was my hand upon my clit and Evan’s cock inside me. I was reduced to nothing but the sensation of sex, of coming release, of the electricity that now concentrated between my legs like a single vibrant point that was growing and throbbing and threatening to burst free, as if there was no way that so much pleasure could be held enclosed in anything smaller than the universe.
And then Evan was coming, his hands tight on my hips as he tugged me even closer, our bodies slapping wildly together as he emptied himself inside me, taking me to my own release as that vibrant point exploded out, making my entire body sing and tingle, all the way to my toes and my fingertips.
I pressed both hands against the wall again, gasping and spent. I wasn’t certain I could ever move again. Then Evan pulled out of me and he turned me around and I moved obediently, draping my arms around his neck and pressing my head to his chest as he used a washcloth to gently soap me up and then adjusted the rest of the showerheads to rinse us both completely.
“I thought you said we’d be late,” I murmured when he was done ministering to me.
“I imagine we will,” he said. He kissed me so soundly that my body fired all over again. “It was worth it.”
Yeah, I thought as I clung tight to him, it was.
I still felt boneless when we emerged from the shower moments later. I sank down beside him on the upholstered bench, my head leaning against his shoulder. “You’ve melted me,” I said, though there wasn’t a hint of complaint in my voice.
“You managed to destroy me pretty completely, too,” he said. “Should we blow off my surprise?”
“Is it a good surprise?”
“The best,” he said.
“Then no.” With effort, I forced myself to stand, then held out a hand to help him rise. “But I warn you. My standards are high. If it’s not the best, there will be consequences.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said seriously.
Since he wouldn’t tell me where we were going, getting dressed was a bit of a challenge. But he swore that the flirty dress and sandals I picked out were perfect. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail with a few loose tendrils framing my face, then swiped on some mascara and lip gloss and called myself ready.
“Perfect,” he said, returning to my bedroom after leaving to change clothes himself. He wore jeans and loafers now, with a casual jacket over a simple white T-shirt.
“You couldn’t possibly have had an entire outfit in your briefcase.”
“No. In my suite.”
“You have a suite? If I’d realized, I wouldn’t have let you share mine last night.”
“Don’t even joke about kicking me out of your bed. And yeah, Cole and Tyler and I crashed here quite a bit. Jahn gave us each a drawer.”
“A drawer,” I teased. “That’s serious.”
“It was,” he said. “The man was like a father to me.”
I might have been playing, but I could tell that Evan was serious. “What about your own dad? I mean, you were old enough when he died. Surely you remember him.”
“I remember him,” he said, his words like ice. “He was a goddamn bastard.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing my words were inadequate. The press had painted a picture of a happy family struck by tragedy. Now I tried to revise my perception to picture a broken family that had been even more destroyed with the death of Evan’s father. A man who, from what I was guessing, hadn’t exactly been around for his wife or kids.
I tried to imagine not having my dad, and the thought left a huge hollow spot in my gut.
I went to him and took his hand, then rose up to brush a kiss over his lips. “In that case,” I said, “I’m even more glad you had Jahn.”
We headed out, and to my surprise, Evan stopped the elevator on the lobby level instead of descending all the way to the parking garage.
“No car?”
“It’s reasonably close. We’ll take a taxi.”
“Close,” I said, running various options through my head.
“Don’t even try. I’ll only be disappointed if you manage to guess.”
I laughed. “Fair enough,” I said as a taxi pulled up in response to the call light. Evan stepped off the curb to open the door for me, then walked around and got in on the opposite side.
“One thing I forgot to mention,” he said, as he settled in beside me. “I’d like you to put this on.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black sleep mask with an elastic strap.
I peered at it dubiously. “Seriously?”
He just looked at me, not answering.
“Evan!”
“Hey, if you don’t want to …” He trailed off, then leaned forward and told the taxi driver to take us back to the condo.
I goggled at him. “What are you doing?”
“Rules are rules.”
“Fine,” I said, snatching it out of his hands. I slid the mask on over my eyes. And in the moment before the world disappeared from sight, I was pretty sure that I caught the driver’s smirk in the rearview window.
