Текст книги "When I Was Yours"

Автор книги: Samantha Towle

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“So, the tumor is back?” I manage to get out.

The doctor looks at me. “I can’t say for sure exactly what is wrong with Casey without having further tests done. But given her history of a prior cancerous tumor to the brain…yes, it is possible that is the case. But I will emphasize not to panic because, even if the tumor has returned, it does not mean it’s cancerous this time.”

All I can hear is, The tumor has returned.

It’s happening again.

“When can we see her?” I ask, desperate to see my sister.

“Casey will be transferred to the children’s ward shortly. I’ll arrange for you to see her before she goes up. You can stay the night with her, if you wish, Mr. Taylor?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Right. Well, a nurse will be through soon to take you to see Casey.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Dad says.

The doctor disappears back through the door he came in through.

Dad turns to me.

I can see it, the fear, in his eyes.

My heart starts to break. I force myself to keep strong for Dad’s sake. He needs me now more than ever.

“Mr. Taylor?” I turn to see a dark-haired lady walking toward us. “Sorry to bother you right now, but we need you to fill out some paperwork for us.”

Dad lets out a tired-sounding breath, running his hand through his hair.

“Is it anything I can do?” I volunteer.

“No, it’s fine, Evie,” Dad says. “I can do it. Why don’t you and Adam grab us some drinks to have while we wait to see Casey?”

“Okay,” I say. “Coffee?”

“Perfect. You need some money?”

“No, I got this.” I pat my purse.

Adam and I walk down the hall to where we saw the coffee machine.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Adam says as we walk. He catches my hand, holding it.

“Yeah, me, too. It’s not going to be much of a Christmas for you, I’m afraid. We’ll be spending it in the hospital with Casey. Maybe you should go see Max—”

He stops me in the middle of the empty hall and turns me to him. “No way am I leaving you. I can’t believe you’d suggest it.”

“I just want you to have a nice Christmas,” I say, thinking back to what he told me in the supermarket.

“I will have a nice Christmas because I’ll be with you. I don’t care where I am, Evie, so long as I’m with you.”

Tears prick my eyes again. I’m so lucky to love him and have him love me back.

I slide my arms around his back, hugging him, and I press my cheek to his chest. His strong arms come around me. I can hear his heart beating strong and solid through his shirt.

“I love you,” I murmur.

“I love you, too.” His fingers brush through my hair.

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other, until I reluctantly let go, and we start walking to the coffee machine again.

I reach for my purse, but Adam stops me. “I’ll get these. What do you want?”

“Coffee, please.”

Adam gets three coffees, and I carry mine and Dad’s while Adam carries his own as we head back to the waiting room. We’re just passing by a room when I hear my dad’s voice inside, bringing me to a stop.

“I really am sorry that I don’t have my credit card with me. It’s in my wallet at home, and I left in a rush with Casey.”

“Like I told you before, Mr. Taylor, it’s not a problem.” It sounds like the lady from before. “Just make the payment whenever you can. You can come in and make it, or just call, and we can do it over the phone. And here’s the leaflet that I was telling you about. It describes the available payment plans. It might be worth looking into them with the level of care that Casey might need.”

“Thank you.” My dad’s voice comes closer toward us, so I duck behind a partition wall with Adam following me.

Payment plan. I didn’t even think about the cost for Casey’s treatment.

We’re barely managing to get by as it is. This is going to break us.

I close my eyes, releasing a sigh.

“Your dad doesn’t have insurance, does he?”

I shake my head. Then, I open my eyes. “No. He had it when he was working, but after that, he didn’t get any. Casey’s first round of treatments wiped us out, and we couldn’t afford to get insurance after that, as the premium was higher because she was already diagnosed with the illness. I don’t know how we’re going to manage the payments for her treatment now.”

“Let me help.”

My eyes flash to his. “No.”

He puts his coffee down on the floor. Then, he takes both the cups from me, putting them next to his.

He takes my face in his hands. One hand is warmer than the other from the coffee he was holding.

“You don’t need to struggle or worry about this. I have the money to pay for whatever treatment Casey needs. Then, you can just focus on being there for her.”

“It’s not your money. It’s your parents’ money.” That came out sounding way harsher than I’d intended.

He drops his hands from my face and takes a step back.

“I’m sorry.” I blow out a breath. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“You’re right. It is their money. And they do nothing good with it. I never have. Let me do something good. Let me help Casey and you and your dad.”

“We’re not a charity case, Adam.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”

“I know. God, I’m sorry.” I press a hand to my head. Everything I’m saying to him right now keeps coming out wrong and bitchy.

I reach for his hand, and he lets me take it.

“I appreciate your offer to help. I love you for it, but I can’t accept it—not just me, but my dad, too,” I say quickly when he parts his lips to speak. “He’s a proud man. It’s hard enough for him that I work to help us make ends meet.”

“Accepting help isn’t a weakness, Evie.”

“I know, but…just let me handle this.”

Letting go of my hand, he stares down at the floor, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, he looks back up, a determination on his face, and steps into my space, pressing his body to mine, holding my face with his hands. My hands go to his waist.

“Okay, Evie. We’ll do this your way…for now. But if things get too hard, then I’m helping, no matter what you or your dad say, you hear me?”

I curl my fingers into his shirt. “Okay,” I say.

But as his lips touch softly to mine, I know I just lied to him for the first time because there is no way I’ll take his money.

This is my family, and it’s my problem to solve.

“Adam?” Mark’s voice comes through on the intercom. “A woman in reception is claiming to be…well, she says she’s your wife, and she’s demanding to see you. As far as I know, you aren’t married, but I wanted to call you first before I have security escort her from the building.”

“Is she blonde, tiny, and goes by the name Evie?”

“One minute. I’ll check with Serena.”

He’s back a few seconds later. “Yes to all three.”

I can’t help the smile that crawls onto my lips. Evie telling people that she’s my wife, demanding to see me, can only mean one thing. She’s pissed. She always was feisty when she got going. Guess that hasn’t changed.

“Let her up. And, Mark, I don’t want this being public knowledge. Tell Serena that if I hear one word about this from anyone else or see anything in the press, she’s fired, without references, and I will personally make sure she never works in this town again.”

“I’ll relay the message.”

I release the button on the intercom and lean back in my chair.

I’m not ashamed that Evie is my wife. God, the day we got married, I wanted to shout it from the rooftop.

But Serena is a fucking gossip. She could rival Perez Hilton. And she’s made it more than clear that she wants me to fuck her. I never have for two reasons. One, she’s blonde. And two¸ I don’t fuck my staff. Too messy.

The reason I want it kept quiet is because I don’t want Ava finding out. Not for me though. I couldn’t give a shit. I’m protecting Evie. If Ava finds out that Evie and I are still married and on our way to divorcing, she’ll go after Evie.

On principle, Ava won’t like that I’m giving Evie my money, but she’ll let that go. What she won’t let go of is the studio. And I know the way her mind works. She’ll see Evie as a threat to that. According to the State of California, Evie is legally entitled to fifty percent of my assets because we got married without a prenup, which would put the studio in some jeopardy if Evie decided to go after half of everything I owned.

But she never would. I know that. However, Ava judges everyone by her own standards, which are pretty low. So, she would hurt Evie in any way she could to keep the studio.

So, I want Ava to stay blissfully ignorant until the divorce is finalized, and then I can have the pleasure of telling her about giving Evie the money as a side bonus to telling her that I’ve signed the studio over to Richard.

The fact that Evie’s here and pissed means she’s found out about the terms of the divorce settlement.

I confirmed the details with my lawyer yesterday, much to his grievance—he nearly fainted when I told him of my plans—so I knew Evie would be hearing about it soon enough.

And I knew if she was the same Evie I knew all those years ago, then she’d be pissed that I was giving her all my money. I guess I was right on that count.

Why am I giving it to her?

Well, partly, if she is the same person I knew, then at least I’ll get to piss her off, in the biggest way possible, one last time.

The main reason though began, as I sat in the office with my lawyer, talking over the divorce settlement and my finances, with my life laid out on paper in front of me. It was then I realized that was all I was—money.

I have nothing to show for my life in twenty-nine years, except for a handful of hit movies under my belt and my parents’ money.

They’re still controlling me even now.

I haven’t done any of the things I wanted to do.

I’m running a business I don’t give a shit about. I’ve been living day to day, one fuck to the next fuck, and I’m just tired.

The last time I was happy, truly happy, was with Evie, and for that, I owe her.

But it’s more than that.

In those days, Evie gave me freedom. When I married her, turning my back on it all—well, trying to—I gave up the money and went against my parents.

But I went crawling back after she’d left. I went back to what I knew.

It was that or face the world alone, and I didn’t know how to do it.

Better the devil you know, right?

And coming back to this life…well, I blamed Evie for that, but it was my own weakness. I could have stayed away and built a life for myself, even without Evie there.

But I was a coward, and I went back to what was easier.

It was my fault.

But no more. I want out.

And I’m doing that by getting rid of the money I received from my trust fund and the money I’ve earned over the years from selling my soul to the devil.

Giving it to Evie might seem like a strange thing to do because I know she’s never cared about money, but she’s struggled financially her whole life.

I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any easier for her, considering she’s driving a twenty-year-old Pontiac Grand and is working as a waitress in a coffee shop. Also, Casey is starting at UCLA, and I know that won’t be cheap. I know Evie will be paying for it. It’s not that her dad and sister are freeloaders, but it’s just the way she is. She takes care of them.

She took care of me for a time, too.

Now, I can finally take care of her. I can make her life a lot easier.

As for the business, I’m signing that over to Richard. As soon as the divorce is finalized, I’m giving it to him.

And then I’m going to…well, I don’t know what’s at the end of that sentence, but I do know that it’s time to let go of the past, to let go of Evie, and move on.

And I guess that starts right now.

Getting up from behind my desk, I walk to the front of it and lean against it, crossing my legs and curling my hands around the edge, as I await Evie’s arrival.

I can’t deny that I’m nervous. My heart is pounding.

No one can get to me like she does. No one ever could.

I hear Mark’s voice outside my door, and then it opens with Evie walking in.

She looks like she just got out of bed. And she looks fucking beautiful.

Her hair is tied into a messy bun on the top of her head, and her face is free of makeup, not that she ever really wore much. Her eyes are full of ire, and they’re blazing. Everything in me pays attention, especially my cock.

Angry Evie is hot Evie. Well, any version of her is hot. But I always did get off on it when she was all fired up.

“Mark, hold all my calls, and cancel my eleven o’clock,” I tell him without looking away from her.

“Sure thing,” he says. Then, he closes the door behind him, leaving Evie and me alone.

There’s a brief moment of silence. The emotions are so thick in the air around us that you could reach out and grab them.

That was the thing with Evie and me. We always did feel too much around each other.

“So,” I say, lifting my brow, breaking the silence, “you’re my wife, huh?”

Her cheeks stain pink, like they do when she’s embarrassed. “Mmhmm…yeah, sorry about that.” She twists her hands in front of her.

“Don’t be.”

“I just needed to get up here, so I could talk to you,” she explains, gesturing with her hands. “And your Pit Bull Barbie receptionist wouldn’t let me through.”

“Pit Bull Barbie?” I laugh. “Guess that is a pretty accurate description of Serena. But you could have called if you wanted to talk. It would have saved you the trouble of coming here.” I don’t mean that. Her coming here, even if because she’s angry with me, means something. I just don’t know what that something is.

“I wanted to talk face-to-face about this.”

“And what is this?” I uncross my legs and stretch them out in front of me.

A frown appears on her face. “The divorce settlement, Adam. Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Quite possibly.”

She folds her arms, which pushes her tits up, and of course, my eyes go straight to them.

That’s when I see what she’s actually wearing. I registered that she had on a T-shirt, but I didn’t focus on the T-shirt itself.

It’s mine—or it was mine. She claimed it in the early days of our relationship. I loved seeing her in that shirt. I always felt like it somehow branded her with me, so no other man could ever touch her.

Seeing her wearing my old T-shirt causes something primitive to tear open inside of me, and all I can think about is ripping that shirt off her body and fucking her senseless.

“Nice T-shirt,” I say, lifting my eyes back to her face.

She glances down at the T-shirt. Her fingers curling around the hem. “I always liked wearing it,” she says softly.

Hearing her say that elicits a thousand memories. I feel the pleasure and pain of each one in every part of my body.

“I remember.” My voice is rough. I remember how many times I pulled it off your body right before I made love to you. “I also remember it was mine.”

Her eyes meet mine. “It was.”

“And so were you.”

Some unnamed emotion flickers through her eyes. She turns her face away. When she looks back at me, her eyes are devoid of emotion. “We need to talk about the settlement. I don’t want the money, Adam.”

The way she said my name was like a punishment, so I return the reprimand.

“Those are the terms, Evie.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You take the money, or I won’t sign the divorce papers.”

Frustration and anger gather up on her face. Being the sick bastard that I am, I get even more turned on by it.

“Why are you doing this?” She lays her palms out, almost like she’s pleading with me.

“Because I can.”

“Is this—is this some weird sort of test, or is it your way of punishing me because I left you?”

I let out a dry laugh.

She’s right though. Part of me is doing it to punish her. She knows me too well.

Unfurling my arms, I stand up straight. “Only you would think five hundred million is a punishment.”

“Because I don’t care about your money! I never did. It was never what I wanted from you.”

That blows a fuse in my brain. “Then, what the fuck did you want from me? If it wasn’t the money, what the hell was it?” I yell.

“You!” she shouts back. “All I ever wanted was you!”

“Then, why the fuck did you leave me?”

We’re standing here, yelling at each other, and I know Mark can hear us, but I don’t care.

I care about what she’s about to say next.

A flash of something I can’t discern passes over her face.

Then, her anger is gone as quickly as it came, and she’s retreating, backing up. “I can’t…this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have come.”

She turns to leave and I let out a harsh laugh.

“Running for the door again, Evie? What a fucking surprise. It’s become your specialty, babe. Tell me, does it get easier each time you leave, or was it already easy in the first place?”

Then, she does something that surprises me.

She stops. Her hand on the handle, she presses her forehead to the door.

For a second, I’m not sure what’s happening.

Then, I see her body tremble, and I hear a sniffle.

She’s crying.

Fuck.

I’m moving toward her without a thought. Stopping, I’m only inches from her.

Seeing her like this, crying…it’s like a vise is around my chest, squeezing.

I want to touch her so badly. But I don’t.

Instead, I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “Evie?”

“It was never easy.” Her voice is a whisper.

My heart stills. “What wasn’t?”

She exhales a sad-sounding breath. “Leaving you. No part of that was ever easy.”

“Then…why?”

She shakes her head from side to side, her forehead still resting against the door.

“Talk to me,” I urge gently.

“I can’t.”

Frustration slams into me, but I somehow manage to control it. “Okay, so don’t talk to me about that. At least tell me why you’re crying.”

I hear her take another breath, and then she turns to face me.

The sight of the tears staining her cheeks wrecks me. I never could bear to see Evie cry.

Unable not to, I reach over and brush my fingers over her cheek, collecting her tears.

The feel of her skin is electric against mine. And I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath.

Her eyes lower, like it’s too hard to look at me. “I’m crying because I’m sad. And I’m sad because all we do when we see each other is fight and hurt one another. Mostly, I’m sad because I miss you. I’ve missed you for ten years, and I’m tired of missing you, tired of this hollow space in my chest where you used to be.”

When she lifts those whiskey eyes to mine, I see all the raw pain in them, and I know she’s telling me the truth about that.

Something changes in this moment, and things that seemed important to me before don’t seem so vital anymore.

But what is important are those words she just spoke.

I’ve waited ten years to hear her say those words, to say that she’s missed me.

Now, she has.

Maybe it’s because she said she missed me or because she’s wearing my shirt or because I’ve finally lost my damn fucking mind, or maybe it’s all those things combined, but I can’t stop myself.

I kiss her.

I kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with ten years of pent-up anger and need and longing and desperation.

And I know, in that second when my lips touch hers, that I won’t regret one moment of what’s about to happen. Even when it hurts so badly that I think I’ll regret it, wish it had never happened, I won’t.

There’s no hesitation as Evie kisses me back. It’s like she needs this as much as I do.

Her lips part on a moan, the sound vibrating all the way down to my cock, and all hell breaks loose.

Pure primal need to reclaim what is mine slams into me, and I’m helpless against it, helpless against her.

Lifting her, I slam her back against the wall. Her legs come up and wrap around my waist.

And it’s like no time has passed at all. Everything about her is the same—her taste, her scent, how she feels under my hands.

I want more. I want all of her, more than I should allow myself to have. But I have always been a sucker for the kind of pain that Evie provides.

And if I’m not inside her soon, I will actually fucking die.

The feel of her lips moving against mine, her tongue in my mouth…nothing has ever felt so good, so cathartic. It’s like coming home, like waking up from the worst kind of nightmare.

I know this is just a Band-Aid over the bullet hole she put in my chest, but I need it.

I need her.

I couldn’t stop now even if I tried. And I don’t want to. I really don’t.

Evie always has been my drug of choice.

History is pulling me right back in with its steely claws, and I’m more than happy to let it. I’m shackling myself to that motherfucker and letting it lead me straight into hell.

Our mouths are going at it. Lips, teeth, and tongues, the urgency and desperation of it all remind me of the inexperienced teenagers we used to be.

The memory of how amazing it felt to be inside her makes my cock even harder, and I was already as hard as stone.

Reaching over, I turn the lock on the door. Then, I grab the hem of her T-shirt, lifting it. She raises her arms, so I can get it over her head.

She’s wearing a pink lacy bra underneath.

I let out a groan at the sight. Pulling a strap down her shoulder, freeing her tit, I cup it with my hand, and I start kissing her again.

My tongue is deep in her mouth, licking. My hand is squeezing her tit, fingers pinching her nipple.

The moans escaping her, entering my mouth, are making me painfully harder.

I haven’t been this hard since I was last with her.

She’s pressing her hips against mine, trying to find the pressure she needs.

“Adam…I need…”

She doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what she needs.

I know Evie’s body better than I know my own.

Putting her to her feet, I undo her shorts. She kicks off her flip-flops. I pull her shorts down her legs, taking her panties with them. Then, I drop to my knees before her.

“Adam…”

I glance up at her.

She looks needy and vulnerable. It turns me on like nothing before.

I slide my hand under her thigh, lifting it, and I hook it on my shoulder. Then, I put my mouth on her pussy.

She cries out my name, her hands gripping my hair. The sound drives me crazy. It drives me on.

She tastes exactly the same, feels exactly the same.

Fully aware of how she likes to be touched, I run my tongue up her center and then suck her clit into my mouth as I slip a finger inside her.

Mouth still on her, I look up at her. She’s staring down at me. Her eyes are glazed and filled with wonderment and lust.

Knowing I’m doing this to her, making her feel this way, has me feeling like a king.

She always could lift me up.

I know it’s only a temporary, fleeting feeling, and when it’s over, I’ll come crashing back down, but I’ll take what I can right now. I need this. I need her, more than I realized or wanted to admit to myself.

Closing my eyes, I get back to it, giving her what she needs and taking what I want in return.

I lick and suck her with my mouth and fuck her with my finger.

Moments later, she’s blowing apart against my mouth.

Pulling my finger from her, I run my tongue around her, licking her clean. Then, I suck my finger into my mouth, too.

Her eyes are staring down, watching my every movement.

She looks so fucking perfect. Her body is trembling with aftershocks of her orgasm, the orgasm I gave to her. Half of her bra is hanging down, exposing her perfect tit. Her pussy is glistening and throbbing because of me.

I have a flashback to the first time I made love to her.

She was perfect then.

She’s perfect now.

Evie will always be perfect.

But I know, underneath all that perfection, is a heart of ice.

Tears and words aside, Evie walked out on me without looking back once. And someone with a heart couldn’t do that.

It makes me want to break her. Fuck into her every ounce of pain that she made me feel, the pain I’ve carried with me every single day since she’s been gone, until she feels my pain like it’s her own.

Pushing up, I get to my feet. I need inside her now. And I don’t intend on taking her gently.

I’m going to fuck her hard. I’m going to punish her for leaving me. I want to make it so that all she remembers, all she knows, after I’ve finished with her is me and how good my cock felt inside her.

Loosening my tie with purpose, I remove it, tossing it to the floor. I open the top few buttons on my shirt, then, I reach behind, grab hold of my shirt, and tug it over my head. I let it join my tie on the floor.

I see Evie’s body still, and when I look at her, her eyes are wide and staring straight at my chest.

And I know I’m fucked.

My tattoo. I didn’t even think about it.

“You-you…had a tattoo done?” Her voice shakes.

I never had any tattoos when we were together. But I know that’s not what’s caught her attention or making her voice tremble. It’s what the tattoo says, what it represents.

In scripture, across the center of my chest, right over my heart, are the words,

AND FOR THAT WONDROUS BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME, SHE WAS MINE, AND I WAS HERS.

Directly beneath are the letters E and A, our initials, entwined.

It’s a play on the words we both had inscribed on our wedding rings.

The tattoo wasn’t done out of bitterness. It was done because of loss and pain. I was hurting. I needed something to remind me of her, of us, aside from the physical reminders I have at the beach house. I wanted something of Evie with me all of the time.

I never regretted having it done, not once.

Not until this moment.

Evie seeing it causes all kinds of wounds to open up inside of me.

I feel exposed, vulnerable, like my heart is lying there, bleeding, at her feet.

I steel myself against the agony.

But then she touches me, and I have to fight to stop myself from falling apart.

Her fingertips trace over my ink, over the words that scream my feelings for her.

My heart is racing. Her touch burns. I close my eyes against the pain.

“Adam?”

I open my eyes. Hers are filled with emotion and need.

And my desire for her blows up like a grenade hitting pavement.

I kiss her hard without restraint or reserve.

I need to be inside her.

I rip open my pants and shove them and my boxers down over my hips.

“Are you on birth control?” I ask roughly.

“Yes.”

“I’m clean,” I tell her. “I get regular checks.”

I see a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can figure out what it is.

“I’m…clean, too,” she says on a whisper.

I lock eyes with her. I’m fighting against the thought of any other man touching her, fucking her.

I grit my teeth.

I need to mark her as mine again.

My hands go under her thighs. I lift her, her back sliding up the wall, and I slam straight inside her.

She cries out.

“Fuck,” I hiss, pressing my forehead to hers.

She’s so tight. It’s like fucking her for the first time again.

“Jesus. You’re really tight, Evie.”

Her body tenses around me, and she closes her eyes. “Just fuck me, Adam, please.”

That, I can do.

Taking her mouth again, I claim her with my tongue and my cock.

I fuck her madly and desperately, driving her against the wall with each hard thrust I give.

The feel of her tight wet warmth surrounding me, her scent, her soft skin, just her…it’s too much, sending me to the brink of madness.

I can’t see straight. All I can see is Evie.

All I need is her.

I have her. I’m buried deep inside her, and even this doesn’t feel like enough.

She sinks her nails into my back, scratching across my skin, moaning my name into my mouth, and I nearly explode. I know I’m not going to last much longer. I’m surprised I’ve managed this long.

“Evie…” I huff against her lips. “Tell me you’re close. I can’t hold off much longer, and I need you to come with me.”

It was always that way with her. I always needed her orgasm with mine. Her pussy squeezing my dick, making me come so fucking hard—there was nothing like it.

“I’m close,” she pants. “Just keep…doing…that—ah, fuck, Adam. That’s it…I’m coming!”

She buries her scream in my shoulder by sinking her teeth into my skin, and I blow apart, coming harder than I can ever remember coming, even with her.

I’m literally seeing stars. My head is spinning. My legs feel like jelly.

I press my head against the wall, breathing hard.

Evie’s panting against me, trying to catch her breath.

As our breathing slows, the sexual fog lifts, and reality seeps back in.

I just had sex with Evie.

A multitude of thoughts scream at me. Emotions burn in my chest.

I was expecting regret to come first, but surprisingly, it hasn’t made an appearance yet.

I guess having her here in my arms after all these years, is what’s keeping the regret at bay.

And the feel of my cock still inside her makes me want to fuck her again.

I can’t fuck her again.

Forcing my head up, I look at her face.

Her eyes look moist, her expression pained, and my first thought is that I hurt her. I was pretty rough.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She moves her eyes to mine.

We’re staring at one another, and I have no clue what to say or do, what my next move should be.

I know what I want to do, I want to take her mouth again and kiss her until I can’t breathe.

Again, not a good idea, Gunner.

This is the first time I’m stuck on what to do or say when I’ve just screwed a woman. Usually, I’m pulling out and looking for my exit by now.

Only, she’s not just a woman.

She’s Evie.

The only woman I’ve ever loved.

The woman I married.

The woman who broke my heart.

That thought sobers me. I pull out of her, lowering her to her feet, and I see her wince.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says, not meeting my eyes.

Moving away from her, putting some distance between us, I pull up my boxers and pants, fastening them.

By the time I’ve turned back to her, Evie’s already got her T-shirt on and is pulling on her panties.

The air is tense and uncomfortable. That’s probably my fault.

I’ve distanced myself from her, physically and emotionally. I feel so confused right now. I don’t know what to do or say.

Evie pulls on her shorts, and she’s dressed.

I’ve never seen her dress that quickly before. It actually pisses me off. It’s like she can’t wait to get her clothes on and get away from me.

I have to grit my teeth to stop from saying something. Really, what would be the point? And it’s not like I’m exactly helping the situation, standing here like a fucking mute.

“So…that happened.” She’s struggling to look at me, her hands twisting in front of her.

Her teeth bite her lower lip so hard that I’m surprised it isn’t bleeding.

“It did.” My voice is cold. I know it is because that’s the intention.

I’m angry with her. I’m angry with myself.

“I’m guessing…we probably shouldn’t have done that,” she edges the words out softly.