Chapter Five Evie
Chapter Five
Evie
My breath catches in the back of my throat as I gasp. My body’s already quivering, and I can’t stop myself from curling my fingers into his shoulders.
“Chase,” I breathe out, arching my back away from the wall as his hot kisses trail down my sternum, between my breasts, and even further toward my belly button.
Goose bumps explode in the wake of lips as his strong hands hold my waist, keeping me in place.
“Please,” I whisper, begging for more because he’s been teasing me all night.
His tongue dips inside my belly button, making my stomach contract and my body shiver before he nips my skin.
I laugh, running my fingers through his messy hair, watching him do it again before he sucks the spot, leaving a deep mark behind. Everything feels like it’s coiling inside of me, ready to explode. And I want him to touch me so bad I can’t concentrate on anything else.
It’s as if he reads my thoughts because he stands in a flash, gripping my waist tighter and spinning us around before he picks me up, dropping my bare ass onto the bed.
I gasp, my palms landing on his chest for balance before they press into the sheets.
My legs are spread as his hands run up the inside of my thighs.
His eyes are locked to mine. “I want to taste you.”
I want that too. So much. He jerks my body closer to the edge, making me squeal before his eyes drop to my exposed center.
“Tell me you want that, Evie.”
I’m unable to speak, but my eyes are fixed on him as I nod and watch him kneel down in front of me. It’s slow and sexy as hell as he looks up at me with reverence.
This is a man.
My hand cradles his face as he licks the pad of his thumb and brings it to the strip of hair on my pussy, parting me as he drags over my clit.
I shiver and throb in all the right places.
But my eyes never leave his. Even when he brings his finger back to his mouth, licking it clean.
Fuck.
“Baby.” The way he says it makes my elbow buckle. “I’m about to make a fucking meal out of you.”
I sigh, deluged by the memory of my dream. But almost as a reminder that I’m around people and not asleep, a voice slaps me directly back into present time.
“Should his tongue be longer?”
“Huh?” I look up, blinking behind my magnifying glasses, too shocked to look innocent.
Dammit. This is conservatively the four hundredth time since this morning I’ve thought about him. You suck, Chase. It’s not even a reach to blame him because he’s the one who’s been leaving me mind-blowing bowls of pasta in the fridge. And pasta equals sex dreams. I don’t make the rules.
And that also means he cooks while I sleep, which also means he still isn’t holding his breath waiting for my text like he was told.
He’s had days, specifically Tuesday through Friday, to get it right. Is it so hard for men to listen?
Worse, though, they’ve all had notes on them that say Eat Me.
I hate to admit it: I think it’s clever, only because, considering who we are, that could be interpreted in a host of different ways. I can almost hear him laughing to himself as he writes them. So obnoxious.
“I said the tongue is too short,” one of the Double D’s offers again.
Double D’s stands for Devin and Derek, my two very young (nineteen and twenty respectively), adorable, dipshit shadows, who are also the sons of my boss’s boss. And since they’re attending film school, I’ve been made a mentor of sorts.
I honestly don’t mind having them around. First off, they revere my talent, as they should, which means I’m treated like a special-effects celebrity. Secondly, more men should benefit from the opportunity of having a woman in charge; that way, they’ll stop being so sassy and emotional.
It’s a win for feminism.
Derek crosses his arms with a sly grin. “All I’m saying is that vampires are like the Girthmaster of the paranormal. The tongue should be a statement. You know?”
Devin cuts in. “Exactly. Like a fallacy symbol.”
I scrunch my nose, pushing my glasses onto my head.
“You mean phallic . . .” Derek starts to rebut, but I shake my head.
“Nope, that was a statement, not a question, little buddy. And we’re not shooting porn, ya weirdos. It’s already at a realistic and respectable length. PS, what kind of porn are you two watching . . . Girthmaster? Really?”
“We’re in film school?” they say at the same time with brazen sincerity, and it makes me laugh.
I start to make a joke, but my phone dings from across the room, making them look at me expectantly, so I jut my chin toward it.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
My two little golden retrievers run to my phone, Devin speaking before Derek can.
“It’s your sister.”
“Seven, six, five, two, one, one,” I call out because neither of them can seem to remember the code for my phone.
I’m waiting for them to read as I lower my glasses back in place, making my eyes huge again, and get back to work.
After all, I am working on a B-rate version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, poignantly named Muffy the Vampire Hater, so clearly, ensuring realism for my vampire dummy should be top priority.
Good god, everyone in the meeting that day should’ve been fired and banned from the film industry. Who thought that title was a good idea? It had to be a room full of straight men.
Absolutely no girls, gays, or theys would’ve ever let that happen.
I’m grinning to myself when I realize nothing’s being read, so I glance before doing a double take as my brows rise. You’ve got to be kidding.
They’re silently bickering, each with a hand on my phone, tugging about an inch back and forth as they stand locked in a battle of the glares. I almost laugh because they’re trying to intimidate each other by opening their eyes wider and wider while mouthing words through tight lips.
“Guys,” I bark, forcing them to look at me. “Just take turns, toddlers. Sheesh, read me what she said.” I shake my head as they clear their throats before I add, “Your mother deserves the Medal of Valor. Call her later.”
As I look back down, I hear a smack before Devin says, “Oww,” and Derek reads, “I haven’t heard a peep from either of you. Did you kill him?”
No, I’ve avoided him. She’s unbelievable.
I’ve been in LA for three weeks and seen some wild shit.
There was a Spider-Man charging a hundred fifty for a pic down at the Hollywood Walk, all while wearing a costume that looked like he stole it from a child and smelled like stale beer and hepatitis.
But her text letting me know I was getting a roommate was the wildest shit ever.
“Just type: Wouldn’t you prefer plausible deniability?”
Her question begets the answer. Why would she think I’d ever actually be nice to him? He’s basically the See All on the Wiki page for the word “Ick.”
Devin laughs, swiping my phone back from his brother and whispering, “Give it. I’ll do it. You can’t fucking spell.”
I hear the clicks of his fingers flying over the keys before there’s an immediate ding in response to my response.
Here we go.
Derek voices the text. “Don’t be unreasonable and mean. He saved your life.”
His voice trails off at the end, maybe because of what he read or maybe because I’ve just smacked my tools down onto Count Phony’s chest.
I stare up at the guys as irritation washes over me, making me blink too fast.
Devin starts to chuckle, but Derek shoves him, so Devin points to his eyes, making fun of how big mine look, so Derek smacks him again. If I weren’t so annoyed, I’d laugh.
But I am annoyed. God, why do she and my mom always do this?
“I’m so tired of everyone always reminding me that he saved my life. I know. I was there. I’m well aware, so just shut up already. Stop bringing it up every ten seconds—”
I tug my stupid glasses off and set them down, letting out a huff.
“You know what? She’s a real piece of work.
She’s forcing me to live with the one person she knows I would rather eat glass than talk to.
He’s like a giant toddler, running around and throwing his shit on the walls.
But oh well, right? I’m just supposed to suck it up and take the high road, no matter what kind of asinine stuff he does.
And trust me,” I scoff, “there’s a lot.”
I scowl, wagging my finger at the Double D’s. “You know where taking the high road gets you?”
They look at each other as if they’re unsure whether to answer me before Devin shrugs and Derek shakes his head.
“It gets you hurtling off a damn cliff. That’s where. Proximity to stupidity is the real number-one killer in this world.”
Derek looks at Devin, who lifts his own phone to his face like he’s going to google what I’ve said.
Another ding.
Both boys glance down, then perk up, turning my phone my way. “Ooo, the Eiffel Tower.”
I scowl. “Who cares, Derek? This is so like my sister. She just sweeps in and barks directions because she’s always the one in charge, and I’m supposed to obey. No . . . not this time. I am a grown-ass—”
Another ding.
“Just call a truce,” he reads flatly.
“A truce,” I snap, making a tiny growl. “You know what that got me the last time?”
More dumbfounded silence, accompanied by witless looks.
“A lifetime of regret,” I bark.
“Genital lice,” Derek whispers to a nodding Devin.
I dig my heels into the ground, rolling my chair away from my vamp and forcing the boys to take a step back before I stand and close the distance between us, snatching my phone from Derek’s hands.
“No. I didn’t get fucking crabs, Derek.”
Another ding.
My eyes narrow on the message.
Golds: Just try and be friends. Do it for me? Pleeaassssse.
The moment I read it, another text comes in.
Golds: I feel better knowing there’s an extra person out there who has your back.
I faintly hear What did she say? before one of the boys shushes the other, and I feel them sidle up behind me, looking over my shoulder.
My eyes narrow. Oh, I’m so mad at her.
I should’ve been an only child, because this is a prime example of sibling manipulation. The FBI should study Goldie’s techniques.
Ding.