16. Evan
Chapter 16
Evan
T he night security guard at Sports News Now definitely thinks I've lost my mind.
Can't really blame him—this is the third time I've started toward Sophie's cubicle, then turned around and retreated to the elevator. The two piping hot cups of coffee in my hands are probably getting cold at this point.
"Everything okay there, Mr. Daniels?" he asks after my latest about-face.
"Fine." I adjust my grip on the cups, trying to look more confident than I feel. "Just...strategizing."
"About walking to Ms. Bennett's desk?"
"It's complicated."
He gives me a knowing look. "Usually is with her. Did you see her piece on the youth hockey league last month? Made my wife cry."
Great. Perfect. Because I needed another reminder of how good Sophie is at turning real moments into beautiful words.
How good she is at seeing people.
At seeing me.
Taking a deep breath, I finally make it to the elevator. The office is nearly empty at this hour with just a few desk lamps creating islands of light in the darkness.
Sophie's cubicle glows like a beacon, and I can see her silhouette as she works—hair piled messily on top of her head, probably wearing another stolen piece of my practice gear.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mumble under my breath to myself. “You’re a pro hockey player. You've faced down slap shots moving at ninety miles per hour. You can handle one conversation about boundaries with…"
I round the corner to her cubicle and lose my entire train of thought.
Because she is wearing my practice gear—specifically, my old warmup jacket with DANIELS across the back—and she's got a pencil stuck through her bun, and she's doing that thing where she chews her bottom lip while she writes, and...
"Hi," she says softly, not looking up.
"Hi." Buy another vowel there, Daniels. "I brought coffee."
"You mentioned that." She still won't meet my eyes.
"Right." I set her cup down carefully. "Vanilla latte. Extra shot because it's late."
"Thanks."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things we're not saying.
"So," I start at the same time she says, "Listen…"
We both stop. Start again. Stop again.
"This is going well," I mutter.
That gets a small laugh from her. "Very professional."
"Is that what we're being? Professional?"
She finally looks at me, and the uncertainty in her eyes makes my chest hurt.
"I don't know what we're being," she admits. "That's kind of the problem.”
I lean against her desk, trying to look casual and probably failing miserably. "We could try being honest."
"Honest?" She spins in her chair to face me. "Okay. Honestly? I'm freaking out."
"About?"
"About this!" She gestures between us. "About how I'm supposed to write objectively about your family when I can't stop thinking about how you kiss me. About how I'm supposed to maintain boundaries when I'm wearing your clothes and going to your family dinners and teaching your daughter math with hockey stats."
"You're good at the math thing, though."
"Evan."
"Sorry." I clear my throat. “I’m not great at...this."
"This being?"
"Feelings. Talking about feelings. Having feelings." I meet her eyes. "Wanting someone so much it scares me."
Her breath catches. "That's not helping the professional boundaries thing."
"Maybe I don't want professional boundaries."
"Evan..."
"Maybe I want the family dinners and the math lessons and the way you laugh at terrible horror movies." I move closer, unable to help myself. "Maybe I want you in my clothes and in my life and in my…"
"Stop." But she's leaning toward me, not away. "We can't."
"Why not?"
"Because..." She swallows hard. "Because I have to write this feature. Because it's my job. Because Lexi wants to fast-track it and she loves how personal it is, and I can't tell her it's personal because I'm falling for…"
She cuts herself off, eyes wide.
"Falling for?" I prompt softly.
"Don't."
"Sophie."
"Please." Her voice breaks slightly. "I'm trying really hard to be professional here."
"And how's that working out for you?"
"Terrible." She looks up at me through her lashes. "Especially when you look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to kiss me."
"I do want to kiss you."
"Evan..."
"Tell me to stop." I'm close enough now to feel her breath on my skin. "Tell me this isn't worth figuring out."
"I..." She licks her lips, and my self-control snaps.
I kiss her, hard and hungry. She makes a soft sound against my mouth, her hands coming up to tangle in my shirt. I lift her out of her chair, papers scattering as I set her on her desk. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer.
"We shouldn't," she gasps as I trail kisses down her neck.
"Probably not."
"Anyone could walk in..."
"It's almost midnight."
"Still..." But she's already pushing my jacket off my shoulders. "This is such a bad idea."
"The worst." I back her against her desk, swallowing her gasp with another kiss. "We should definitely stop."
"Definitely." Her hands slip under my shirt, nails scratching lightly over my abs. "Any minute now."
"Right after this?"
"Maybe after—oh!"
I grab her ass, pulling her against me so she can feel exactly what she's doing to me. She moans softly, grinding against my hard cock. The friction is torture, but I can't get enough.
I want more. I want everything.
"Evan," she breathes, her hands fumbling with my belt. "We shouldn't..."
"Shouldn't what?" I murmur against her lips. "Shouldn't do this?" I slip my hand under her shirt, cupping her breast through her bra. She melts under my touch with a soft, lilting mewl. "Shouldn't make you feel good?" I lightly pinch the taut nub, rolling it between my fingers.
"Oh God," she moans. "We shouldn't... shouldn’t…”
“Shouldn’t what, Sophie?”
She hesitates, her pink lips stuttering around the words. “We shouldn’t…do bad things in my cubicle..."
Her words send a surge of lust straight to my cock. "Is that what we're doing, Sophie?" I ask, my voice low and rough. "Are we doing ‘bad things’ in your cubicle?"
She looks at me, blue eyes wide. "Is that what you want?"
I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. "I want to make you come so hard you see stars," I whisper. "I want to feel your tight little pussy clench around my cock. I want to hear you scream my name while I fuck you right here on your desk."
"Evan..."
"But if you want me to stop..." I start to pull back, but she grabs my shirt, holding me in place.
"Don't stop," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "Please don't stop."
That's all the encouragement I need. I crush my mouth to hers, my tongue invading her mouth as I grind against her. She moans, her hands finally managing to unbuckle my belt. I can feel her trembling with need, with anticipation.
I’m completely wound up, but know that doing this in her cubicle really is a bad idea. I grab her hand and lead her to one of the glassed-in offices that has blinds. Blinds that we can close in case there are still people here in the office.
As soon as I close the door, lock it, and close the blinds, I yank her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra follows quickly, and then she's bare to me, her beautiful teardrop-shaped tits heaving with each ragged breath.
Dipping my head, I capture one perfect nipple in my mouth. She cries out, her back arching as I suck and lick, my teeth grazing lightly over her sensitive flesh.
"Evan," she gasps. "Oh God, Evan..."
I switch to her other breast, giving it the same attention. She's writhing beneath me, her hips grinding against mine. I can feel her heat, despite the fabric between us.
And I instantly know what I need.
I need to be inside her. I need to feel her come apart around me.
I position her on the desk, checking quickly to see if there is anything breakable.
My hands tug on her joggers. She lifts her hips, helping me slide them down her legs. Her panties follow, and then she's completely bare—her peachy skin seeming to shimmer under the glow of the lamp as she spreads out on the desk like a fucking feast. I think briefly about turning the lamp off but quickly decide against it. I want to see her. All of her.
I soak in the sight of her. “Jesus, Sophie. You're so fucking beautiful."
She blushes, but she doesn't look away.
She watches me, her ocean-colored irises darkening as I kick off my shoes, strip off my shirt, and shove down my pants and boxers.
My cock springs free, hard and aching. I wrap my hand around my length, stroking slowly as she watches.
“Does this count as a bad thing?” I ask, smirking.
She licks her lips, her eyes never leaving my cock. "Maybe," she says coyly.
"Just maybe?" I guide her hand to my cock, wrapping her fingers around my shaft. She squeezes lightly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive ridge. I groan, my hips jerking forward.
"Definitely," she breathes, looking up at me through her lashes.
I lean down, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss. She strokes me slowly, her hand twisting slightly as it moves up and down my length. I can feel my orgasm building already, but I don't want to come like this.
I want to be inside her.
I break away, gently removing her hand from my cock. She pouts slightly, but I just smile, reaching down to grab my wallet from my discarded pants. I pull out a condom, tearing open the wrapper and rolling it down my length.
Sophie watches me, her eyes wide and hungry. "Hurry," she whispers.
I don't need to be told twice.
Then I’m stepping between her legs, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance. She's so wet, so ready for me. I can feel her heat, her tightness, as I slowly push inside.
"Fuck, Sophie," I groan. "You feel too good."
She moans softly, her head falling back as I fill her completely. I give her a moment to adjust, my cock throbbing inside her. Then I start to move.
I thrust into her, slow and deep, feeling her tighten around me. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, urging me deeper. I can feel her nails digging into my back, her breath hot on my neck.
"Harder," she whispers. "Fuck me harder, Evan."
I growl, my hips snapping forward as I give her what she wants.
I fuck her hard and deep, my cock pounding into her as she cries out my name. The desk creaks beneath us, papers scattering to the floor.
I can feel her tits bouncing against my chest, her nipples hard and tight.
"Touch yourself," I demand, my voice rough with need. "Make yourself come for me, Sophie."
She looks up at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure. She slides one hand between her legs, her fingers finding her clit. She rubs herself in quick, tight circles, her breath coming in short, sharp slices of air.
"That's it," I growl. "Come for me, Sophie. Let me feel you come all over my cock."
She cries out, her body convulsing as her orgasm hits her. I can feel her pussy clenching around me, her wetness coating me from the very base to the tip of my throbbing dick.
And I fuck her through it, my own orgasm building with each thrust.
"Evan," she gasps. "Oh God, Evan, I'm coming..."
I groan, my hips moving faster, my cock driving deeper. I can feel my release building, everything in me ready to explode.
I'm so close, so fucking close...
And then I'm coming, my cock pulsing as I spill into the condom. I thrust into her, riding out my orgasm as she milks every last drop from me.
When I finally go still, I'm breathing hard, my heart pounding in my chest. Sophie looks up at me, her eyes soft and sated.
I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.
"Well," she says softly, her gaze scanning my face. "That was certainly... professional."
I chuckle, pulling out of her carefully.
I discard the condom, then help her down from the desk. Her legs are shaky, and I steady her with an arm around her waist.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
She nods, looking up at me with a small smile. "Better than okay."
I smile back, feeling a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the sex. "Come on," I say, helping her gather her clothes. "Let's get out of here."
"Wait," she says suddenly, pushing at my chest. "Wait, we need to…"
A noise from the hallway makes us freeze.
The janitor's cart rolls past, innocent as can be, but it might as well be a bucket of ice water.
Sophie drops her forehead to my shoulder, laughing shakily. "Oh God."
"Yeah."
“Did he almost..."
"Yeah."
I’m trying so hard to not bust out laughing.
She smacks my chest, but she's smiling. "This is serious!"
"I am serious." I brush her hair back from her face. "I seriously think this is hilarious.”
Her smile fades slightly. "Evan..."
"I know it's complicated. I know there are boundaries and considerations and a million reasons why this is a bad idea."
"But?"
"But maybe some things are worth complicating."
She studies me for a long moment. "The feature comes out next week."
"I know."
"Lexi wants to expand it. Make it more personal."
"I know that too."
"And you're okay with that?"
I think about it. About seeing our private moments in print. About sharing parts of my life I've kept guarded for so long.
"I trust you," I say finally. "To tell the story right. To see us—see me—the way I want to be seen."
Her eyes go soft. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I kiss her forehead. "Everything is going to work out. It’s all going to be fine. Really good even."
I pull back slightly, taking in her mussed hair and swollen lips. "So..."
"So."
"What now?"
She glances at the scattered papers on the desk in our “borrowed” office, then back at me. "Now...I think you should take me home."
"To be professional?"
"To be anything but professional."
And really, what can I say to that?
She gathers her things, neither of us talking about the weight of what we're choosing. About all the complications we're embracing. About how some things are worth the risk.
In the elevator, Sophie leans against me, fitting perfectly under my arm like she belongs there.
Maybe she does.
"Your place or mine?" she asks softly.
"Yours is closer."
"True." She looks up at me. "You sure about this?"
I think about all the reasons I shouldn't be. About boundaries and public perception and protecting my family.
Then I think about how somehow, in these last few weeks, it’s hard not to feel, not to imagine…that Sophie is a part of my family now. That she fits into all the broken places and makes them whole.
I stare down at her, my heart hammering inside my chest.
"Yeah," I say, pulling her closer. "I'm sure."
We get off the elevator and head toward the door. The security guard gives us a knowing look.
"Have a good night, Ms. Bennett, Mr. Daniels."
Sophie blushes. I clear my throat.
"Night, Frank."