Chapter Three Evan
Idon't sleep.
Not a damn minute.
Every time I close my eyes, all I see is her. I hear her voice and feel the heat of her breath when she leaned in and told me what she wanted.
Me.
Fuck.
I've been staring at the ceiling for hours, watching shadows shift across the wooden beams. The same ceiling I've looked at every night for most of my adult life, the one that's always brought me peace. Tonight, it feels like a prison.
My body is wound tight as a coil, every muscle tense with want and frustration.
I'm thirty-two, not a teenage boy, but I'm harder than granite and every cell in my body is screaming for her.
The smart part of my brain, the part that's kept me alive in these mountains, that's helped me build a life on my own terms, is telling me to pack her bags myself and drive her back to the city.
But there's another part, a darker part that's been buried under years of solitude and self-control, that wants to march down the hall and finish what we started in that kitchen.
I told myself no. I meant it.
At least, I thought I did.
But it's morning now. Dawn starts to creep in. I can hear birds calling to each other in the pines, the distant sound of the creek running behind the house. Normal sounds. Peaceful sounds.
Sounds in my kitchen.
Fuck. She's in my kitchen.
I can hear her moving around down there, the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood, the quiet clink of ceramic. She's probably wearing that damn shirt again, probably with no fucking underwear.
Fuck it. I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my goddamn life.
I sit up, running both hands through my hair, trying to find some semblance of control. Three years. Three years I've been telling myself that isolation was better than complication, that wanting someone was just another way to get hurt. Three years of convincing myself that I was better off alone.
Thirty seconds with Cassidy Monroe and all of that self-discipline is crumbling.
I should stay up here and wait until she leaves for a hike or goes into town for supplies. Maybe put some distance between us until I can think straight again.
Instead, I'm pulling on jeans and heading for the stairs.
***
I come down the stairs slow, like maybe if I take my time, I'll talk myself out of whatever's about to happen. Like maybe I'll remember all the reasons this is a bad idea.
I don't.
The morning light streaming through the kitchen windows catches the dust motes dancing in the air, turns everything golden and soft. It should be peaceful, after all it’s just another quiet morning in the mountains.
Except, there's nothing peaceful about the way my heart is hammering against my ribs.
I turn the corner, and there she is.
Hair messy from sleep, shirt hanging off one shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her collarbone. Those long, soft legs and the shape of her ass teasing me as she leans over the counter pouring coffee.
She's humming that melody again, completely unconscious of the picture she makes. Or maybe not so unconscious. Maybe she knows exactly what she's doing to me.
It's not even fair.
She glances over her shoulder like she feels me watching, and when our eyes meet, there's a spark there.
"Mornin'," she says, all casual, like she's not standing in my kitchen half-naked, and that she didn't tell me last night that she wanted me.
I don't say a word.
I just move.
Her lips part in shock as I kiss her.
Hard.
Hot.
Full of everything I’ve been holding back.
She gasps into my mouth, and then she melts. Fucking melts. Her hands fist in my shirt, her body arches, and she moans, and I swear it’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I deepen the kiss, tug her closer and press her back against the kitchen bench until there’s nowhere left for her to go. Her thighs part instinctively, her hips rocking forward like she’s already imagining what comes next.
“Jesus, Cass,” I rasp against her lips.
She whimpers, dragging her nails down my chest.
And that’s it. That’s the moment I break.
I kiss her again, deeper, hungrier, and she matches me stroke for stroke. Tongue to tongue. I pull her shirt up and feel warm, bare skin. My hand spans her waist, fingers brushing the swell of her hip.
She’s soft. So fucking soft. And warm. And perfect.
I nip her bottom lip and she whimpers. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anything.”
Her eyes are dark and wild.
I drag my knuckles down the side of her thigh, feel her shiver.
I lift her onto the counter as her legs wrap around my waist, and her heat presses against me through my jeans. She’s wet, I can feel it even through the fabric, and it nearly ruins me.
I kiss my way down her throat, biting lightly, tasting her skin.
Her head falls back. “Fuck, that feels good.”
“You feel good,” I murmur.
I push her shirt up, and she lifts her arms, letting me strip it off.
Those perfect, full breasts bare to my mouth, my hands, my greedy fucking eyes.
I lean in, licking over one taut nipple, then the other, and she cries out, arching, panting, fingers tugging my hair as I worship her with my mouth.
I’m gone.
I’m fucking gone.
Her breath hitches as I cup her thigh, my rough palm sliding over warm skin. She watches me, eyes wide, mouth parted, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
I take my time as I drag my hand higher, until my thumb brushes the edge of her panties. She bites her lip, hips shifting toward me like she’s begging without words.
“I thought you didn’t like wearing underwear,” I groan I take her in as she whimpers in front of me. "These have got to go," I murmur.
She nods once. “Take them off then mountain man.”
I hook a finger beneath the waistband and ease the panties down, slowly, watching the pink fabric slide over her soft skin, baring her inch by inch. When I toss them aside, she’s already glossy and slick and so fucking ready.
Her thighs spread for me without hesitation as I drop to my knees.
"Goddamn, Cass," I breathe, brushing my thumb along her crease. She jerks under the touch, her hands fisting the edge of the counter.
I lean in and lick her slowly, dragging my tongue through her folds, tasting every drop like I’ve earned it. She gasps, thighs trembling around my shoulders.
When I flick my tongue over her clit, she cries out, a soft, desperate sound that makes my cock throb.
I grip her hips, pulling her closer to the edge, spreading her wide. Her hands slide into my hair, fingers tugging, her body arching off the counter as I suck and tease and press my tongue just right.
"More."
I slide one thick finger into her, slow and deep.
She moans, thighs shaking, her core pulsing around me as I curl that finger and add another..
"I can’t—" she gasps. "I’m going to—"
I groan into her, fingers moving faster, tongue relentless until she clenches hard around me and comes undone as her body shakes.
I hold her through every pulse, until she finally goes limp against the cabinets.
I stand again and take her in. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, dazed, her full lips parted.
"You still want this?" I ask.
She stares at me, as she nods.
That’s all I need.
I unbuckle my belt with shaking hands, push my jeans and boxers down, and fist my cock, already hard and aching. Her eyes drop to it, and her breath catches.
I grip her thighs, pull her closer to the edge, and line myself up, dragging the thick head through her slick folds.
She gasps when I press in just a little.
"Shit," I hiss. "I don’t have protection." I go to pull away but I am caught as her legs wind around me and don’t let me move.
“I’m covered.” She says as she brings me in closer. “I’m clean and I know you haven’t been with anyone since Sarah, so I guess we are good to go.”
“If I was a better man I would stop now.”
“I told you I don’t want a soft man or a better man. I want you.”
Fuck.
I step forward and go slow, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me. Her nails dig into my arms, but she doesn't tell me to stop. She lifts her hips, urging me deeper.
"More," she breathes. "Please. I need all of you."
I slide all the way in, deep, slow, so fucking deep, until I’m fully buried in her heat.
We both freeze.
"Fuck," I mutter against her neck. “You feel perfect.”
Her legs wrap around me, holding me in place. "Then don’t you dare pull out."
I start to move, slow, deep thrusts that have her moaning again in seconds. Her head falls back, and I kiss down her throat, her collarbone, anything I can reach while I move with her against the counter.
She clenches around me, again and again, and I feel her building back up.
I don’t stop. When she breaks again, I let go too, burying myself deep and emptying inside her with a low groan.
I rest my forehead against hers, our bodies still tangled, her breath ghosting over my lips.
“We still pretending there isn’t anything between us?” she whispers.
I don’t answer.
There's no going back from this, or pretending it didn't happen. No filing it away as a moment of weakness. She's gotten under my skin in a way that Sarah never did.
She's made me remember what it feels like to want something more than solitude, and that scares the hell out of me.
"Evan?" Her voice sounds uncertain now, and it makes my chest ache that I caused that for her.
I pull back just enough to look at her properly. "Yeah?"
"No regrets?"
The question is simple, but I can hear the weight behind it. The fear that I'll pull away now and I'll go back to being the man who keeps everyone at arm's length.
I brush a strand of hair away from her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "No regrets, Cass.."
But even as I say it, there's a voice in the back of my head whispering that Cassidy Monroe is going to complicate my life in ways I can't even imagine yet.
Except for the first time in three years, I find myself not caring about the complications.
I’m not caring about anything except the woman in my arms and the way she's looking at me.