Chapter 37
Evan
Switching the shower off, I scoop Anais’s limp body from the tiled floor, cradling her in my arms as I step out. She snuggles into me, her head nuzzling against my chest. My heart pounds, and my throat tightens. The depth of my feelings for her slams into me with brutal clarity.
Somehow, this little brat has managed the impossible. She has burrowed herself so far under my skin, I know I’ll never be able to dig her out.
Fuck. What is this woman doing to me?
After the shit show with Valentina, I swore off relationships.
I was happy with casual sex. No feelings, no complications, just mutual respect and release.
What started as a temporary arrangement with Anais, has slowly shifted into something more.
Something real. And honestly, I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
My mind races, as the familiar panic creeps in, clawing at my insides.
Instinct tells me to push her away, to never touch her again.
Walk away before she can sink her claws any deeper.
But for some unknown reason, the thought makes my chest ache.
I’d never admit it aloud, but a world without the brat, without her light, her chaos, her smiles, isn’t one I want to return to.
And still… deep down, I know I can’t keep her.
A large part of the reason is Harrison. Then there’s the age gap.
But mostly, it’s me. It would be selfish to keep her.
And for a man who’s been selfish all his life, it’s hard to admit that.
Anais is too young. Too innocent. Too good for a man like me.
She deserves someone who will put her first. Who will choose her.
And no matter how much I wish things were different… that’s not me.
I place her gently on my bed, glancing around at all her clothes discarded on the carpet.
I shake my head. The girl is so fucking messy, it infuriates me.
We’re opposites in every way. While I thrive on order and control, Anais is chaos and destruction.
At first her messing with my shit, testing my patience, drove me insane.
But somewhere along the way, I started to enjoy her petty little games.
“Evan?” she whispers softly, her lilac eyes searching mine.
It’s obvious that, like me, she feels the shift between us. It’s thick, undeniable, tangible – it’d be hard to fucking miss it. My jaw clenches as I stare at her. I should stop this. Take her home, walk the fuck away and never look back, but I don’t.
One more time, I tell myself.
Just once more, I’ll lose myself in her tight pussy.
Then before she falls any deeper, I’ll do the right thing and set her free.
It’s too late for that... that annoying voice whispers, but I quickly shake it away.
I climb on the bed, crawling between her legs. We’re both still damp from the shower, soaking my sheets. I make a mental note to remind my maid to change the bed.
My mouth finds her skin, and I press kisses to every inch I pass.
Her calves, her knees, her thighs. I kiss her pussy, her stomach, nip her breasts.
Then I press a soft kiss to her chin before I finally make contact with her lips.
My cock hardens between us, begging to sink inside her perfect cunt and make itself a home.
Her mouth parts, allowing me entrance, her legs spreading wider to accommodate my body.
A part of me swells with pride, knowing I taught her everything she knows.
Tearing my lips from hers, I bury my head in her neck, knowing this is the last time I’ll inhale her drugging scent.
The last time, I’ll nuzzle the space I’ve claimed as mine. Every inch of Anais feels like mine.
And though I’m letting her go, she will always belong to me.
The thought of another man touching her, kissing her, burying his cock in her, nuzzling her neck – makes my vision turn red. But I swallow it down.
Because I know this is how it has to be.
“Evan?” Anais repeats, and I blink away the haze.
Does she sense my turmoil?
Does she know what’s coming?
Instead of responding, I reach down, grabbing my hard dick. Guiding it to her pussy, I run a trail from her clit to her entrance. She gasps, her body arching into me, silently begging for what we both need. I don’t make her wait.
Lining myself up, I push inside her tight cunt, my eyes rolling shut as her warmth envelopes me.
Anais moans, her long legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper as though she never wants to let me go.
The irony isn’t lost on me. She senses my retreat, the detachment.
And though she might not fully understand it, this is my goodbye.
I’m a coward. A bastard. The worst kind of asshole. I’m taking, taking, taking, getting my fix before I send her on her way. My dirty hands should’ve never been allowed to touch something so pure.
Anais might come across as strong, confident, a brat.
But as I’ve gotten to know her this last month, it’s clear she hides her vulnerability behind her sass and attitude.
But I’ve seen what lies beneath. She let her guard down, let me in.
I’m one of the lucky ones. She opened up, let me see the real her.
But she never should’ve trusted me. I used her love for me.
Got what I wanted. Because there was only ever one ending for us. And it wasn’t me down on one knee.
Her nails dig into my back, snapping me out of my spiral and scorching a trail up my heated flesh. The sting grounds me. It will leave a mark, and maybe that’s intentional. I can’t blame her. Surely, she knows what this is?
For the first time since this started, I’m doing something I never thought I was capable of. I’m making love. Making love to the girl I never should’ve touched. The one who has burrowed her way deep inside me, smashing down every wall I built to keep her out.
And still, I can’t bring myself to stay.
With long, torturous strokes, I move inside her, owning her, filling her with me. I groan when her pussy tightens around me, as if subconsciously she’s trying to keep me here. Her body knows I’m leaving, even if her head hasn’t caught up.
In this moment, I wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t such a fuck up.
“Oh my god,” she whimpers, when I hit a spot deep inside her.
My lips meet her ear. “That’s right, Brat. I’m your god, and this is our confessional.”
Not a real confession, of course. Because the truth I really want to say out loud, would ruin us both in more ways than one.
Her cunt flutters around me, her legs trembling. She’s close. I find her clit, and circle it. “Evan,” she gasps, and I push up on my palms to watch her face as she climaxes. I want to commit her face, so filled with love, awe, and desire, to memory. I’ll never forget this moment.
“Come for me, Brat. Soak my dick.” My teeth are clenched, sweat beads on my temple, down my back.
Since I first had sex, I’ve never experienced a connection this intense.
There are no words to explain the emotions coursing through me.
But I feel it. The moment Anais’s mouth parts and she stares deep into my eyes, it’s as if she is seeing into my soul, drawing it out and weaving it with hers in a constrictor knot.
Something I’ll never be able to untangle.
“Evan,” she cries my name, her voice hoarse as she falls over the edge.
Her cunt grips me like a vise, clamping down so hard she wrenches my own climax from me. My balls draw up, cock thickens, as my thrusts turn slack. And then I’m spilling inside her for the final time.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, collapsing on top of her, careful not to crush her.
My face finds her neck and I inhale her scent one last time, greedy for the hit.
I now have a better understanding of how an addict must feel.
“That was amazing,” Anais breathes, running her fingers through my hair.
I hum my response, unable to speak through the lump in my throat.
Anais chuckles, sighing in contentment. Pain slices through me.
“That good, huh?” she teases.
I don’t answer. I can’t. I stay where I am, still inside her, tracing lazy circles over the pulse point in her neck with my nose. I’m not sure how long it takes, but eventually her breathing evens out and she falls asleep.
Not long after, I roll to the side and watch the sleeping beauty.
Her flawless face, her perfect nose with …
twenty-four freckles. Anais Lauder is ethereal.
So stunning, it’s sometimes hard to look at her.
It took me a while to see, but now that I have, it’s hit me with a force I’m unable to comprehend.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders, signs of a lack of sleep from the night before. I know I should get up, leave, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
So instead, like the asshole I am, I pull her into my arms, kiss the top of her head and close my eyes.
It’s mere minutes before sleep pulls me under.
The sound of a phone ringing pulls me out of sleep.
Anais stirs beside me, groaning softly as her eyes flutter open and meet mine. She smiles – and something in that look sends pain shooting through my body.
I clear my throat and slip my arm from around her.
Her face falls, and I really fucking hate the look on her expression right now.
“That’s your phone.” I say, noticing mine is silent on the nightstand.
Swinging my legs over the side of bed, I grab some sweatpants, quickly tugging them on before she catches sight of my erection.
“It’s in my purse. In the kitchen,” she murmurs, her voice small.
I glance over my shoulder, watching as she covers her body with my shirt and walks out of the bedroom. The sight of her like that, in my shirt, bare legs on display, makes me want to throw her over my shoulder, drag her back to bed and never let her go.
Groaning, I run a palm down my face. I don’t know when it happened. When things changed. When I let lines blur. But I did. I lost sight of what we were and allowed things to develop into something I’m not entirely comfortable with.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, freezing when I hear Anais’s voice from the other room.
“I stayed at Lana’s, Harrison,” she says wearily.
A pause. Then she speaks again. “Yes, I’m fine, just tired.
” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s tonight, for dinner.
” Soft footsteps echo against the tiles before she reappears in the doorway, wearing an unsure smile.
“That was my brother,” she tells me, wincing.
I already knew it was Harrison, but hearing his name still makes me cringe.
Clearing my throat, I cross my arms over my bare chest. “You should go. I’ve got some business to take care of.”
Her smile vanishes, her lips forming a tight line. She regards me for a long moment. I’m not sure what she finds, but she sighs, then steps into the room. “Yeah.”
She doesn’t argue. Just accepts my dismissal.
She should be used to my behavior by now.
I’ve been consistent. It’s not like I gave her false hope.
Sure, I sent her flowers and even kept some of the bouquet for myself, just so I could watch for when they wilted, and make sure I sent her a fresh bunch to brighten her apartment.
But I never took her out for dinner, never promised more.
An ache radiates through my chest, my heart pounding erratically as if begging me to admit the truth of my feelings. I shove it down, clearing my throat.
“I’ll call down to my driver. He’ll take you.”
She glances up at me, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I’ll order an Uber.”
My jaw tightens at her stubbornness. And even more when I watch her reach for that offensive dress from last night. No fucking way in hell is she walking around in that.
Stalking to my closet, I pull out some sweatpants and toss them to her. They’ll be way too big, but anything is better than that obscene scrap of material. Surely it violates every fucking public decency law to exist?
“Put them on,” I demand.
She glares, fire igniting in her lilac eyes. “How do you go from being so sweet, to such an asshole?”
I scoff. “I’ve always been an asshole, Brat. Don’t get it twisted.”
She glowers, the corner of her lip curling into a snarl. “How could I forget.”
My eyes narrow, but I don’t engage. That’s what she wants. A reaction. An argument. “I’ll tell Philip you’ll be ten minutes.”
I grab my phone, and send him a message.
“How gracious of you,” she mocks. I glance up just as she rolls her eyes.
My teeth grind together. Don’t react. Don’t you dare fucking react…
She pulls on the sweats, rolling them at the waist, then shoots me a look of disdain.
“Is this how you treat all your women or just me?” Her voice pitches.
“Fuck them then show them the door?” she laughs, the sound humorless. “God, you’re such a fucking cliché.”
“Watch it,” I warn.
Her head tilts as she studies me. She shakes her head as a look of resignation covers her expression. “I thought maybe we could grab lunch,” she murmurs, so low I almost miss it. “You know, like normal people.”
I tense, motioning between us. My jaw pulses with pent up anger. Not at her, but myself. “We are not normal, Anais. Don’t forget what this is.”
Her eyes squeeze shut as if she can ward off my words. When they open again, defiance flickers to life in those lilacs. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
And then she walks out, with a head held high and sweatpants too big.
I stare at the door long after she leaves.
And for the first time in my life, I realize I’ve gotten myself into a situation I don’t know how to get out of.