Now #2
She cries out my name, shivering on top of me, jolting with every blissful wave of pleasure that courses through her.
Her walls pulse with it, milking every drop out of me.
Fuck … Our orgasms are as intense as the sex was.
Mine leaves me dazed and a little confused, while hers has her slouched on top of me, out of breath.
When we meet each other’s eyes, we can’t hold back a complicit grin. We exchange a small, soft kiss, far more tender than the moment we’ve just shared.
When she pulls away, she says, “Welcome home, Hot Wheels.”
“If this is how I get welcomed, I might go back on my word and abandon you for a couple of months here and there.”
When she laughs, I can feel it where we’re still joined. It pushes some of my cum out of her, making it dribble down my balls.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” I say. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me on our bed.”
Despite what just happened, we’re both reluctant to let go.
So instead, we kiss again. And it quickly gets out of hand once more.
Well, we still have some time before Mariana comes out.
We can probably start over. Especially given the fact that I haven’t gotten any softer, still firm and needy inside her.
I’m back with my wife. And I’m never letting her go ever again.
Barcelona went by in a blink. Between my contractual commitments and the race schedule, the days unfolded faster than we could process them.
Evie and I still got to enjoy the city a little more than we did in Monaco. It was easier to go unnoticed in such a densely populated area, so we allowed ourselves a few moments out of my suite.
Once more, Evangeline followed the practice sessions and the race from the Paddock Club. The competition on Sunday was fierce, but I gave everything I had and finished first. I wasn’t about to lose two races in a row. Especially not in front of my woman.
The Monday that followed, we traveled to Palma de Mallorca, a city on the largest Balearic Island off the coast of Spain, incredibly dense culturally and historically.
Originally, I’d planned on asking Wesley to drop us off, since it was on their way to Ibiza, but given Evie’s experience on the yacht, I booked us a flight instead.
I’ve rented a small house for the week, with a view over the sea and private access to a strip of sandy beach. It gives us all the privacy we want, and we’ve been exploiting it to the fullest for four days now.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” I tell my agent on the phone.
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll let them know they can expect you tomorrow. Text me when you have an ETA.”
“Will do.”
Once we’re done with the technical arrangements, we hang up. I throw the phone on the bed and walk to the balcony that overlooks the sea and the terrace.
My eyes fall on Evie, who’s exactly where I left her two hours ago—working on her computer on one of the lounge chairs, under the shade of a patio umbrella.
I’m still not used to this, to having her here.
Every morning, when I wake up finding her in my arms again, there’s a brief moment where I question whether or not I’m still dreaming.
She’s here again. We found our way back to one another after being stranded for seven years.
I’d given up hope, but here we are, back to our former glory, our bond growing stronger with every day spent together.
My heart feels so full that my chest aches, as if overstuffed with emotions. My Evangeline is back.
Feeling like a lovesick puppy, I head downstairs. Once outside, I walk straight to her, gorging on the sight she offers.
She’s wearing a mossy green bikini, and a cream sarong is wrapped around her hips, thin enough to be see-through. She’s so focused on her screen, she doesn’t even see me approach.
“That’s enough of this,” I say as I get to her.
When I move to take her laptop away, she hurriedly whips it away from my reach and protests with, “No, I’m almost done!”
“Come on, princess, you’ve been working all day.”
She scoffs. “I’ve barely worked. You’ve kept me very busy for most of the day.”
“Is this a complaint?” I wonder, quirking up an inquisitive eyebrow at her.
“No. But I’ll have you know today happens to be Thursday, which is a working day.”
“The fact that you’re able to keep up with the day of the week tells me I haven’t done a good enough job of distracting you.”
This time, I’m faster than she is, and I easily take her laptop away. I snap it shut, ignoring her protests, and settle it on the other chair before sitting down on hers.
“So, how have you been these past two hours, princess?”
“Good. Working. Had a few phone calls with my friends and family, too.”
“They still have no idea you’re here with me?”
“Nope. And I plan on keeping it that way.”
“Oh, that works in my favor. I can kidnap you and lock you up somewhere. They’d never know who did it.”
She giggles before trying to be serious again, “I have a system in place, actually. If I don’t input a secret code on my phone every six hours, a message goes out to everyone, plus a few journalists. Just in case.”
“Hm, clever girl …”
When I lean in to press my lips on hers, it seems all thoughts of her laptop and work are gone from her mind. We kiss as if we haven’t seen each other the entire day instead of a couple of hours. And when I pull away, her beautiful eyes meet mine, clearly eager for more.
“And you?” she wonders instead. “How was your workout?”
“Good. I did arms, shoulders, and neck.”
“I can see that,” she appreciatively notes, gaze gliding over the protruding muscles that my sleeveless T-shirt doesn’t hide. When she’s done objectifying me—which I thoroughly enjoy—I offer her a sheepish smile.
“I’m afraid I have to abandon you for the next two days,” I reluctantly explain.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I just got a call from my agent. She’s pushed back my schedule as much as she could, but I need to go to London for a couple of photoshoots and an interview.”
“For what?”
“One is for my biggest sponsor, D’Arvigne.”
“Watches, right?”
“Yes. And the rest is a photoshoot and interview for GQ. I’ll be their cover story in … three months, I think?”
She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is insane.”
“I got used to it,” I say with a shrug.
“Well, I don’t know how you do it.”
She turns pensive for a moment, and I try to bring her back to me with light pecks along her shoulder and up her neck. I’m just reaching her ear when she asks, “Can I join in?”
“You want to watch me in my element?”
“No, I—I can catch a flight home from London.”
I freeze, pausing the kissing. “You want to go home?”
“It’s been two weeks, Jax. I have to.”
I straighten up. “Then if you’re leaving tomorrow, I guess we need to have the talk.”
“What talk?”
My gaze hardens before I can control it. I know what she’s doing, and I don’t like it. “You know what I mean, Evie.”
She sighs and brings her legs closer, wrapping her arms around them in a manner that subconsciously betrays her desire to shield herself. “This was meant to be a one-time thing, Jackson.”
“I know that, but how have things not changed for you?”
She tries to think of an answer, but when none comes, she says, “You promised, Jax. You promised you wouldn’t fight it. That you’d drop me off at the airport and say nothing.”
Hurt by her dismissiveness, I get up from the chair to set some distance between us. “So, it’s that easy for you …”
“What is?”
“Walking away. Leaving this behind. Leaving me behind.”
She shakes her head, visibly affected. “It’s not, Jackson. And it wasn’t last time either.”
“Then don’t. Don’t leave. I mean, you can leave, return to Colorado, and get things sorted for your work and everything. But don’t walk away from me again. From us.”
Torn, she stares at some invisible target on her lounger’s cushion, brows twisted as she thinks. Her hesitation is all I need to cling on, so I come closer again and crouch down next to her to be at her level.
When she meets my eyes, I plead, “Give us a second chance, Evie. The one we never got to have. We’ve matured, we’re actual adults now. I promise we’ll make it work this time.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because I know I’ll do everything I can to make it happen, princess.”
“What if it’s not enough?”
“It will be. Things have changed,” I try.
“Have they?”
“I have changed. You saw it.”
“But the circumstances haven’t, Jax. Everything is the same as it used to be. You’re still racing every other weekend. And you travel even more now. To be on the cover of GQ magazine and that sort of thing.”
She says the last part with a hint of humor, which yet again makes me feel like this is going in the right direction. “What do you need from me, Evie? Do you want me to quit?”
She shakes her head with determination. “I’d never ask that of you. Ever. It would be wrong, and you’d hate me for it.”
“I could never hate you.”
“You would over time. I know you, Jax. And taking this, taking racing away from you, would be like taking your legs or your arms.”
“And if you walk away, you might as well take my heart with you. If it comes to it, I’d rather have no legs and keep living.”
Doubt still veils her pretty face, but a glimmer brightens her eyes. “You really are so dramatic sometimes,” she chortles after a moment.
I grin. “Only when it really matters.”