Текст книги "Micah"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

Chapter Seven

Micah

The darkness is broken by a flickering bulb, illuminating patches of black mold on the walls. The air reeks of old, sour sweat and the heavy breaths of too many kids stuffed in a tiny room. Some are snoring, curled together on the three narrow beds and the worn carpet. Others are sitting with their backs to the wall.

I walk among them, moving forward but going nowhere. I’m trapped. There’s no oxygen. No future.

The room tilts and shifts, leaving me disoriented. I’m on a long staircase, going up. I have no other choice. The darkness has changed, filled with hateful eyes, and they’re waiting for me.

Footsteps follow me, and I try to climb faster, but I can’t. Time slows to compensate for my efforts, pulling on my limbs like hardening glue, so that I struggle and pant and rage. I try to shout for help, but I can’t breathe, can’t speak. Others are waiting for me at the top of the stairs, and the footsteps behind me grow louder. Closer.

My foot slips on the step, and I go down. I tumble into the darkness, right into the hands of my pursuers, and they grab me by the hair and drag me down. Kicks knock the breath out of me, and then their fists find me, punching all sense out of me. My body is a raw nerve, flayed bloody. Fire runs in my veins, scorching my flesh. A scream dies in my throat, never making it out, as I arch and twist and struggle to escape the pain.

“Micah.” A sweet woman’s voice, calling my name, and I reach for it like a ray of light in the dark. “Micah!”

The darkness dissipates. Brightness stings my eyes, and I groan, trying to turn my head away when I realize I’m lying on the sofa on my back, an arm flung over my head, and a girl is sitting next to me.

A naked girl. A very pretty naked girl, with her hand on my bare chest.

“Ev,” I croak as it all comes back to me—the knock on my door, her appearance, the kiss, the almost-sex... The nightmare. A cough rattles in my chest, and I turn my head and smother it on my arm.

Her hazel eyes are wide, her face pale.

Goddammit, I scared her. Of course I did. Nobody should see me as I claw my way out of this nightmare, this mishmash of memories from the last two group homes I lived in. It was a fucking hell, and I ran away many times, ending up on the streets. Being on the streets was safer, although the cold and hunger always won out, sending me back into the system.

“Micah?”

I realize she’s watching me, warily, as if not sure whether I might bite.

Truth is, I don’t know either. I need a few moments to get my head straight, get my shit together. To talk myself out of falling back into the memory and howling like a wounded animal. Images crowd the edges of my vision, fragments of nightmare and memories, leering faces, taunting voices.

I have to get out.

But she’s leaning over me, her small face concerned, her hand on my chest, over my pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice low, soothing.

I can’t reply, can’t move. I can barely breathe, because I need to punch something or someone, and she’s too close, right in the danger zone. My fists clench at my sides as I try to keep from bolting upright, as I try to control every twitching muscle. A tremor goes through me.

The living room is cast in pale light and shadow. It’s still day-time outside. Later afternoon. Looks like I didn’t sleep for very long.

She bends over me, her eyes filling my world. She’s so sweet—just like the night she saved my life, and I need to tell her that. Let her know who I really am, before we do more than get each other off.

But not now, not when my mind is still spinning and a dark hole of depression is waiting to swallow me. Dammit. I sit up and swing my legs off the sofa. She grips my arm, but I shrug it off and rise unsteadily to my feet. I stagger across the living room, bumping into the coffee table, and make my way to the bathroom.

The door bangs shut behind me, and I kick at it. Turning, I slam my fist into the tiled wall. The tile cracks.

Fuck. I brace my hands on the sink and bow my head, letting out a shaky breath. And another. I’m okay. It’s okay. I repeat the words to myself until my breathing slows.

But it’s not enough. So I step into the shower and turn on the hot water. Turning my face into the spray, I let it wash away the dream and the remembered fear. I run my hands through my hair, tugging, the tiny pinpricks of pain grounding me to the present.

And goddammit, it’s still not enough. I want to smash my fist into things, break something, hear the crash and feel the damage.

The muscles in my back and legs are coiled tight like springs. Bracing myself against the shower wall with one hand, I reach up and rub the back of my neck.

I jerk when hands slip around my hips. I raise my head just as a body molds to me—soft, slender, feminine.

“Ev?”

“Shh.” She strokes her hands down my thighs, shifts against me. I can feel her nipples brush my back, and a hot flare of arousal goes through me like a blade.

My dick hardens as she slides her hands up my sides, over my ribs, her warm mouth pressing light kisses to the inked snake on my spine. My hand curls into a fist where it’s braced against the wall and my head dips.

Oh fuck. This isn’t good. I’m about to lose control, and she’s pressed so tightly against me...

“Ev... Have you got any idea what you’re doing to me?” It’s a warning. Run little rabbit, run. “You should stop.”

She hums and keeps kissing my back, her hands stroking my stomach, coming dangerously close to my hard cock.

Fuck, fuck. Every muscle in my body trembles. Normally, I try to be gentle, to hold back. But now I feel like I’m hanging over the void, ready to fall.

“Ev...” I say, my voice so strangled I barely recognize it. “I need some time.”

“I’ve got you,” she whispers and I groan, because I’m about to take out my despair on her, and she’s the last person I wanna hurt.

“You don’t understand.” Shit, how can I explain without spooking her?

The fact my dick is so hard it hurts isn’t helping. Her small hands wander to the front of my legs, not quite touching where I need her to touch. My balls feel hot and heavy, and sparks of pleasure skitter up my spine when her fingertips skim the base of my cock.

“You had a nightmare. Pretty bad one.” I can feel her breath on my wet back and shiver. “Tell me about it.”

“Can’t.” Not now, dammit. “Gimme a minute.” Please.

“You called for me in your sleep.”

Oh, damn. Can’t remember that. The images return, the memory slams back into me, and I clench my teeth against a moan. “Just go, Ev. I’m fine.”

“I’m not leaving,” she says now, her voice low but determined. “You’re not fine. Tell me how to help you.”

“You can’t—” The words catch in my throat. “You have—”

She shudders against my back, and my control finally shatters. I turn and push her against the wall of the shower, capturing both her wrists in one hand and slamming them over her head. A gasp escapes her and she struggles briefly. Her eyes are wide, gold and copper, fixed on me, and a flash of fear goes through them.

With my free hand, I stroke wet strands off her face. I press myself to her, my burning erection sliding on her stomach. Oh, fuck, it feels so good. I need to bury myself in her so deep the memories leave me.

“Micah...” Her voice breaks through my trance. Her mouth draws me, her lips plump and soft. Damn, this girl is so pretty it’s killing me.

“Too late to run now,” I inform her, kissing her roughly, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, licking her. I groan at her taste, so sweet and irresistible.

Her hands clench where I’m holding them over her head, and I tighten my hold. Breaking the kiss, I reach between her legs and slip my fingers between her folds. She’s wet and slick and hot, and my dick throbs desperately at the feel of her.

She squeaks when I find her clit and pinch it lightly, then circle it. She pants against my lips, squirming. Her nipples are tight and hard, scoring my chest. I want to play with her, suck on her breasts, on her clit, I want to torture her with pleasure in every way imaginable—but not now.

What I need now is to plunge inside of her and take her fast and hard. I push one finger inside her, and she moans deep in her throat. I almost come then. She’s so tight and hot around my finger I wonder how on earth I’m gonna fit in there. But she gives me no time to doubt as she squirms again, grinding herself on my hand, swallowing my finger as if begging for more.

And I give it to her. I push one more finger inside and fuck her with both, dragging them in her heat.

My breathing is coming in harsh pants. Shit, I’m gonna fuck her so hard she’ll scream. My cock twitches. I’m so close to coming it’s torture.

Pulling my fingers out of her, I grab her leg and lift it, curling it around my leg. Leaving her wide open. Warm water glides on her skin, between her legs, making her shimmer. So goddamn sexy. I trail my fingers between her legs, down her exposed seam, and she moans.

The head of my dick presses against her clenching opening. Can’t hold back. Can’t stop.

God, I hope she won’t ask me to stop.

She looks up, and for a moment we’re still, our gazes locked. Fear is still there, lurking in the depths of her bright eyes, but then I see another emotion, dark and powerful.

Desire.

With a growl I push into her in one long thrust. She cries out and her eyes flutter closed. For a second I wonder if I hurt her—but then her leg tightens around me, and she arches her back, dragging me closer. Taking me deeper.

Damn. She’s so fucking tight, so fucking hot. I grunt as I grip her leg, slide my hand up to her ass and push inside her one last inch.

Oh, shit... She clamps around me, squeezing my length so tightly I can’t catch my breath. My hips jerk of their own volition. Need takes over me, and the world goes hazy as I draw out a ways, then slam back into her heat.

We both cry out. Sensation rips through me, raising goose bumps all over. It’s never been so good before. I do it again, pulling back, driving back inside, and oh hell, it keeps getting better.

My hips piston back and forth, faster and faster. I release her wrists, and her hands fall on my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. She’s panting hard, her mouth slack, her eyelids heavy. Water rolls down her cheeks like teardrops. She whispers my name.

And then she comes, rippling around me, squeezing me, moaning my name.

I barely manage to pull out before my balls contract, and my cock jerks. I let go of her, slam one hand on the wall for balance and grip my dick with the other. My mouth falls open as the pressure rises and rises until it crests, and I come so hard I see white. My cum sprays on her—again—and before the water washes it off it’s like rivers flowing between her breasts, dipping into her navel then spilling out, traveling down her body.

Crap, I’m more wiped out than I thought. I feel drunk. High. Can’t think straight.

“Bed,” I decide and tug on her hand. “Come on.”

She follows gamely, looking a little dazed herself, and lets me wrap her up in a towel and steer her toward my bedroom. Once there, I unwrap her again and pull her with me under the covers. I lie on my back and pull her to me until she rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her. She fits perfectly there, by my side.

The sky has begun to darken outside, and my eyes are heavy. A feeling of calm steals over me as her heart beats against my side. I inhale her scent of flowers. I think it’s her shampoo, and I bury my nose in her soft hair. I fall asleep before I know it, and this time I don’t dream.

***

This time, when I open my eyes, it’s morning. I can tell by the gray dawn breaking over the sky outside. I don’t know what woke me up, and for a long moment I’m content to just lie on my side, in my bed, and just stare out the window at the visible sliver of sky over the building across the street.

Peaceful. Warm through and through. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so good, and unavoidably, that has alarm bells ringing in my head.

Yeah, that’s me. Ruining this unique moment of feel-good to find out why I’m not feeling like crap as usual. Pure genius.

Then something shifts against my back—a warm body, I realize with a shock—and a small hand, a woman’s hand, slides over my hip and settles there. I stare at it, waiting for my brain to catch up and for the pieces to fall into place.

And they do, echoing in the void of my mind.

Ev. In my shower. In my bed.

Holy shit.

All I know is she makes me feel good. Wanted. Cherished. I’ve never felt that way before, or at least I can’t remember feeling that way. I can barely remember my mom. Never met my dad. The few foster families I was placed with over the years didn’t care much for me.

I have a better family now. Zane and Rafe care. They worry for me and look out for me. But this... Why do I feel like this with her? Like I could stay here, with her, to the end of time?

I put my hand over hers and tangle our fingers together. Her hand is small, and it fits perfectly in mine. She sighs, a warm puff of air on the back of my neck, and she slides ours entwined hands up over my ribs, settling on my chest.

“Hey,” I mutter. “Morning.”

“Hey...” Her voice is heavy with sleep, low and sexy.

In a flash I remember how she moaned my name in the shower as she came around my cock. I also remember she’s naked under my covers, and so am I. My dick finds this little fact very interesting, and it stiffens, rising up to hover against my stomach.

Then she gasps and sits up. “Morning? It’s morning? Crap, I need to go. I texted my parents last night, but I didn’t say where I was, and they’ll be frantic—”

I twist and wrestle her back down on the mattress, pressing her hands on either side of her. She squeals, and I grin widely, then lower myself over her, pressing my hard-on against her belly. She’s breathless now, her eyes wide, and she’s so cute I nuzzle her neck and lick her.

She yips, but then arches her neck to give me better access. I kiss and lick my way down the hollow between her collarbones and pull back just for one second to look at her breasts. Beautiful. Nipples taut, the color of butter candy. I lick them and nip at them, first the one, then the other, and they taste like candy, too. I flick my tongue over the hard bud again and again, until she moans and squirms, her hips lifting urgently underneath me.

My grin widens. I kiss a path down to her navel, and she shivers. I let go of her hands to stroke the silky skin of her thighs and move them further apart, so I can bury my face between them.

Another squeal, ending in a low moan when I lick along her seam, spreading her open.

“Micah...” Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging lightly. “What are you doing?”

She shouldn’t be asking me this. Has nobody gone down on her before? Knowing I have to make it extra-special for her—it’s her first time and it’s Ev, my Ev—I focus on her every response as I find her clit and circle it with the tip of my tongue. It’s swollen, and her hips lift up when I start sucking on it. She lets out tiny gasps and moans that set my blood on fire.

I stroke her seam with my forefinger as I torture her with my tongue, and she’s so wet my cock twitches. I find her opening and push my finger inside. Hot. Tight. Oh, fuck.

Her back arches, and she lets out a keening noise. Fucking hell, how am I supposed to not come here and now when she does that? Lifting my head, I grit my teeth and slowly pull my finger out of her. I draw it between her breasts, leaving a wet trail.

“Please,” she whispers, her eyes thin slits of gold. A shudder goes through her and she shifts restlessly. “Please, Micah.”

“Say it,” I say, my voice hoarse with need. “What do you want?”

She bites her lip, and it’s driving me crazy. I stroke her clit, pressing down, and she makes a breathless sound that goes straight to my cock and pulls my balls tight.

“Say it, Ev.” I lean over her and lick one caramel nipple. “Say it.”

“I want you.” She’s as breathless as I am.

“How?”

“Inside me.” Her voice is a sob. “Please.”

Christ. I fumble with the drawer of the bedside table and fish inside for my box of condoms. I rip the package with my teeth and pull the damn thing on, jaw clenched and counting in my head to stop myself from coming.

I’m right there, on the edge. Just the knowledge it’s Ev lying beneath me, asking me to pleasure her, is enough to make me lose control.

Glancing up, I find her eyes on me, full of desire and trust, and shit, I can’t hold back a second longer. I grab my dick and nudge against her entrance. One push and I’m inside her, and holy fuck, it’s mind-blowing. I lower myself over her and kiss her as I shove my cock deeper. She groans in my mouth, and I swallow the sound as I pull out a little and drive back inside her, my eyes all but rolling up in pleasure.

I can’t get enough of this, I realize. Of her. Can’t get enough of her. Fuck.

The realization goes through me like lightning, a flash of fear, and my heart pounds harder. But it’s not enough to make me stop or even slow down. If anything, I want her more than ever. Need her more than ever.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. I slam into her faster and faster, drinking the mewling sounds she produces, grinding my hips against hers, needing to feel her, feel her come all around me. Feel she needs me just as much.

I break the kiss to gasp for air. “Don’t let go,” I whisper, and why the fuck am I asking her that? I don’t even know what I want to say.

But she drags her nails down my back and whispers back, “I won’t.”

Layers upon layers of meaning pile up between our words—or is it just me, thinking I read between the lines?

I slam into her harder, faster still, staring into her eyes, caught in them, our panting breaths filling the room. I love the way she moves with me, the way she trusts me to touch her, fill her, make her come, the way she says my name. Love the fact she came to look for me, that she stayed with me, that she met me move for move. I love—

Shut up, I snarl silently, and the stupid voice in my head falls silent.

I don’t love. I don’t do emotions. I know better than that.

To silence my thoughts I slam into her harder. Bending, I take one of her nipples in my mouth, licking and sucking. Her head falls back, and she presses her breast to me, but I switch to the other and bite her nipple gently. She clenches around me, hard, and my cock spasms. I lift my head and hiss, feeling the first wave of pleasure roll inside me, sharp like pain, shooting from my balls to the tip of my cock.

“Ev,” I mouth her name as all air leaves my lungs, and my hips snap, trying to bury my dick deeper inside her.

A soft cry escapes her, and she moves with me, meeting my thrusts, squeezing me in her velvet vise until the pleasure draws me under and teases my vision with black.

I come with a choked shout, calling her name, and she comes with me, holding me inside her, not letting me go. Coming with me all the way.

Damn, she’s amazing. Never felt this way before. Don’t wanna pull out. Don’t wanna disconnect from her. I was so wrong. She’s not part of the picture. She is the picture, and I...

I feel happy.

Oh, crap. Jesus, Micah. What the hell were you thinking?

Yeah, I know. I’ve got it bad for this girl. So sue me. See if I fucking care.

Chapter Eight

Evangeline

Staring into Micah’s bright blue eyes, I struggle to find my way back down to earth. What he does to me is mind-blowing, how he plays with my body and draws out sensations I never imagined, and his smile… A little crooked, wide, sexy. Beautiful. It brings all sorts of unexpected feelings to the surface. A bit of joy, a bit of fear, a bit of panic and a whole lot of desire. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so much before. This need to touch him all over, kiss him, feel him…

Weak sunlight filters through the window, and I frown. I feel like there’s something I’m forgetting…

Crap, it’s morning. My parents and Joel must be frantic, not knowing where I was last night.

Micah mirrors my frown. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

I smile, his concern making me feel warm. “No, I’m fine. Got to text Joel, though, let him know I’m all right.”

“Who’s Joel?” The blue of Micah’s eyes darkens.

Wait. He’s jealous? I laugh and splay my hand on his muscled chest. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Ev…” There’s confusion in his gaze now, the blue shot with gray. He has such expressive eyes.

“Joel is my brother.”

He searches my face, and his gaze slowly clears. His grin returns. “Really?”

“I swear.”

“On what?”

“On your mighty cock.” I clap a hand over my mouth. What’s come over me?

“Jesus, girl. You are something.” He laughs quietly, and I’ve found my new favorite sound. Deep and rumbling, it wraps around me like his warm body, pushing away my worries and fears.

I laugh, too. “Sorry.”

“What for? I think my boy never had such an honor.” He sits back, slipping out of me. I twitch at the odd sensation and watch as he pulls off the condom and ties it off. “In fact,” he says, “I think my boy here wants to thank you.”

And sure enough, he’s hardening again as I watch, and heat gathers between my legs. Okay, what’s this—am I turning in to nymphomaniac or something?

He clucks his tongue, and I raise my eyes to find him looking right at me. He knows I was looking at his cock, which is now standing semi-erect, rising against his taut stomach. He’s so handsome, strong and ripped, all lean muscle and sinew. I reach for him, and the blues in his eyes shift again—ever-changing like the sky.

“Your cell,” he says, and it takes me a moment to process his words or the fact he’s now holding my phone in his hand.

How…? Oh, right. I had the cell in the pocket of my pants. Joel is always bugging me to keep it in my purse.

Joel. Shit. I reach for the phone, and Micah tugs on it as I try to take it, his grin widening. He’s playing with me, and it makes me feel giddy and hot. Finally, he relinquishes his hold, and I check my messages.

Ten from Mom, demanding to know where I am and saying she will call the cops if I don’t answer. All from last night. One text from Joel, saying Mom is going crazy, asking if he knows where I am, and where the hell am I anyway?

I wince. What if she called the cops already? I hate this, making them worry and not having the freedom to do a crazy thing like staying over at a guy’s place without the police looking for me. I really should move out. I’m nineteen, after all.

I call Mom first, and she replies on the second ring. “Evie? Oh my God, baby, I was so concerned something happened to you!” She sounds so relieved I feel guiltier than ever.

“Didn’t you get my text about staying overnight at a friend’s?”

“And that makes it all right? You didn’t even say which friend, and I called several but nobody knew—”

“You did what?” Mortified, I glance at Micah, who’s half-lying in all his naked and aroused glory next to me. “Mom, I’m an adult. You have to stop doing that.”

“How can you blame me? You like wandering with filthy beggars and won’t look out for yourself! Joel says you’re still doing it. Of course I’m worried.”

This again? “Well, I’m fine. Talk to you later, Mom.”

“Evie, wait—”

I put the cell down and sigh in frustration. Quickly, I type a text to Joel, letting him know I stayed at a friend’s last night.

I know they all mean well. I’m actually quite a rational person most of the time. But it’s not as if I ran off to Vegas for a month. I even let them know I was staying out, for God’s sake.

Micah runs his hand up and down my arm. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” His touch is calming, and I close my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. “Parent stuff, you know?”

He says nothing and when I open my eyes he’s looking past me, at the far wall.

“Like, they want to know where I am every minute of the day,” I say, “and think they have a say in who I see and what I do… It’s annoying.” Micah’s face is blank, and as nervousness swamps me I start to talk faster. “Is that normal? I mean, I guess it’s different with boys. Joel is pretty much free to do as he pleases, and I know for most boys it’s like that. What about you? What about your parents?”

“What about them?” Micah mutters and leaves the bed. He stands in the middle of the room, facing away from me, his body tense, every muscle outlined in his strong back.

“Are you okay?” I hesitate, the sheet wrapped around me. “Micah?”

“Fine,” he snaps.

I gape at his back. Unexpectedly, my eyes sting. Gathering the sheet around me, I slip out of bed and pad to the door. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to pull myself together.

“Ev, wait…” Micah intercepts me before I reach the door, his hand heavy on my shoulder. He slips his arms around my waist and turns me around. “Wait.”

“What?” I mumble.

Uncertainty flickers across his face. His hands move to my hips, holding me gently but securely.

“Sorry,” he says, his chin dipping to his chest. From where I stand, I have a great view of his square jaw and high cheekbones, the sexy ruffled state of his blond hair. “Please don’t go yet.”

Standing this close to him is different from lying down on his bed. He looks huge, powerful, dwarfing me. My pulse accelerates, and yet it’s not from fear. I’m not scared he’ll hurt me in any way. The only thing I feel is need– the need to be closer, always closer to him, to burrow inside him, and it’s just crazy. I barely know him.

The thought makes me pull back, and the uncertainty flashes again over his features, like distant lightning. “Please, Ev. My parents… I just don’t remember them much.”

My mouth opens. but no words come out. I didn’t expect this. I also didn’t expect him to start talking. For me. To stop me from going.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly, reaching up to grip his biceps. “It’s none of my business. I never thought…”

“My dad left when I was very little. My mom was never home.” He gives a rueful smile and a slight, apologetic roll of his shoulders. “Then came foster care and foster families, and they were all different in how they treated me. So…”

So he has no real feel for what parents normally do.

Crap. Of course he doesn’t. Come to think of it… His smile is still in place, but it’s tight and etched with sadness. He told his tale so quickly I almost missed the fact he skimmed over lots of stuff. Important stuff. The most important: an absent father. An absent mother. Foster family after foster family. No stability. No home.

My heart aches for him. I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, our lips brushing, and then he draws me flush against him and kisses me thoroughly, exploring my mouth with his tongue, flooding me with his dark taste, making me want him again.

His arousal presses between us, steel-hard and hot. I moan when he slides his hands behind me to cup my ass and grinds his hard-on against my belly. He walks me backward until my knees hit the bed, and we fall on it. His mouth moves over my body, scorching and urgent. I’m lost in a storm of sensation, pleasure assaulting me on every side, arousal making my center throb with painful intensity.

Then he pulls back for a moment, leaving me writhing on the mattress, and I hear the crinkle of foil as he takes out a condom and puts it on.

He leans over me again, a question in his eyes. His arms tremble and his chest heaves. His cock nudges my opening, and I can’t help a moan at the feel of it. I love how he holds back until he’s sure I want it, despite being painfully hard and barely able to stop himself.

And this barely reined-in control when it comes to being with me… I love it, too.

“Micah,” I whisper and reach down between us to touch his erection. He’s throbbing through the thin rubber, and he gasps when I guide him inside me.

Oh God, he feels amazing, stretching me, filling me. His stomach muscles contract. His hips roll, and I cry out at the waves of pleasure washing through me. I never knew I’d be so vocal in sex—never was before. His face dips down for a kiss, silencing me, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if he thinks someone will hear, if he lives alone in this apartment or not—but he grabs my hips, lifting me, entering me deeper, and all thought is erased in another riptide of unbearable pleasure that borders on pain.

Holy crap. I can’t stop myself from crying out again as my orgasm starts, rising in me like a flame, making me thrash under him and sob for breath. His mouth is on mine again, stealing the sounds, his tongue thrusting just as he snaps his hips faster.

Isn’t this a sign of addiction—wanting something—someone—more and more every time?

His cock swells bigger inside me, sending new waves of pleasure down my spine. I draw back and force my eyes to remain open, fixed on his face, to see the moment he tips over the edge.

And he does. A grimace contorts his features, and he drives deep inside me, stilling, then rolls his hips again.

“Fuck,” he whispers breathlessly, “oh shit, Ev…”

His arms give out, and he rolls next to me, panting harshly, pulling me to his chest. Cradled like that, I listen to his pounding heart, and it hits me that he always says my name when he comes.

For some reason, it makes me smile.

***

Going back to work, to normal life, feels like a slap in the face. I feel I’m still dreaming. Then again, the guy watching from across the street is back. He’s smoking and staring holes into me. Jesus.

Well, if this is Blake’s doing, posting a lookout man to watch me, he’ll be disappointed. Not doing anything of interest anyway, and hey, watching isn’t hurting anyone.

It only makes me feel like shit.

Cassie takes a look at me, and her eyes widen. “Oh. My. God.” She squeals, grabs my hand and drags me to the changing rooms and closes the door. “Who is it?”

“Whoa.” I take a step back, torn between giggling and having a mini breakdown. “Who is what?”

“You got some.” She plants her hands on her hips and tilts her head to the side. “So who is it?”

The breakdown threatens again. Oh God, do I have a hickey? I lift my hand to my neck, hoping to hide any evidence of what happened last night. And this morning. Twice.

Crap. My face heats. “How do you know I got some? Is it written on my face? Am I walking funny? What?”