Chapter Twenty-Eight Scarlett #2
“Do you want me to tell you what I want? Will that help?” I nod eagerly, stepping closer to him.
He licks his lips, taking in a deep breath.
“I want you, Scarlett. I want you waking up in my bed and listening to me play piano. I want you to tease me about my tidy puzzle brain and make out between bookshelves in a library. I want to go to events with you and watch you give speeches and squeeze your hand in a room full of people.” I smile, nodding.
“We can take things slow. We can go at your pace. As long as you let me be yours.”
I nod again since it seems like it’s the only thing I can do. “I want that too.”
“You do?”
“I want that more than anything. I’m just . . . scared.”
Admitting it out loud isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. A weight feels like it’s been lifted off my shoulders, but there’s still that anxiety simmering in my lower stomach, a constant reminder that this could go wrong.
“Scared of what, angel?” Evan asks softly.
“Of ruining this. I’m not good at . . . this. Relationships,” I whisper. “You’re a really good person, Evan. Way too good for me.”
He scoffs. “There’s no way you actually believe that.
” He lets out an agitated breath, stepping closer toward me, and he lifts my chin until I look at him.
His voice is low and deep when he says, “Scarlett Voss, you are perfect and beautiful and smart and so fucking deserving of everything good. You have been unravelling me since the day I met you, and I don’t want you to ever stop doing that.
” My heart thumps in my chest and he dusts his lips over mine. “I’m yours, Scarlett. Yours.”
My tongue darts out, running across my bottom lip as his words settle over me. “Mine,” I whisper, as if I’m getting my first taste of the word.
He smiles against my mouth. “Yours.”
Before I can say anything else, he crushes his lips to mine. I swear I drown in him. Every brush of his lips against mine ignites a fire in my chest and low in my stomach. His hands bracket my face, pulling me closer to him as his lips claim mine.
My hands are everywhere, pushing off his blazer, raking through his hair and over his shoulders. When the doors open, we stumble toward the exit, my hair falling out of its bun and tumbling down my shoulders.
I barely untangle myself from him before he’s pulling me into the back seat of the car with him.
There’s a divider between the front and the back, and Evan mumbles something to the driver about turning up the music as he hauls me into his lap.
There’s something different about him tonight.
Like a new air of confidence has washed over him.
My hands rest on his shoulders, and he wraps his strong arms around my waist. He runs his hands up my back, goosebumps rising in their wake as desire coils tighter in my stomach.
The energy in the back seat fizzles, mixing with the fresh smell of cleaning products, like he had the car cleaned when we were dropped off earlier.
Evan pulls down the straps of my dress, exposing my breasts, and he leaves long drugging kisses there like he might be able to permanently brand himself on my skin. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, and my head falls back, nails digging into his shoulders as I moan.
“You’ve got to be quiet,” he whispers, his voice rough. He pulls my nipple between his teeth, biting down on the sensitive flesh. I cry out again, shifting in his lap. “You’re not very good at following instructions, are you?”
“No,” I bite out, rolling my hips until I feel the friction of his pants against my bare pussy. I can tell I’m soaked, and I’m probably making a mess of his pants already.
“Mm.” He kisses up my chest. My collarbone. My throat. My jaw. My mind is spinning, my vision blurring. I grind into him again, and his hips buck up, hitting my favorite spot. He brings his lips to my ear. “I want to taste you. Please can I taste you?”
“Someone’s eager,” I tease.
“Someone’s also dripping on me right now.
” The laugh that leaves him is dark, and it sends a shiver through my entire body.
He pulls up the skirt of my dress to my hips, exposing me to him.
He runs his fingers along the inside of my thigh, a light touch that makes me shudder.
“I need to taste you, Scarlett. I need to feel you. Need to taste how badly you want this.”
Need not want.
His thumb brushes against my core, and I drop my head to his shoulder, my body shaking with anticipation. “Evan . . .”
“Will you let me?” he asks softly. When I don’t respond, he presses his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves, and I moan into his shoulder.
“You’re going to have to speak louder than that, baby.
” He swipes his thumb against me again, and if I’m not careful, I could come just like this.
Then he asks again, his voice deeper, slower, “Do you want me to taste you?”
“Yes. Please. God. Yes,” I say, stringing together the only words I can think of.
I finally pull back from him, and he smirks at me.
The darkness of the car emphasizes his features that much more—his slightly crooked nose, those so-green-they-might-kill-me eyes, that fucking mouth. I want it everywhere.
“Clean up the mess you made first,” he demands, pulling his hands away from me and leaning back.
I do as he says, sliding out of his lap and with the little light in the back of the car, I can see the wet spot I’ve left on his crotch. Right on his crotch. My grins turns evil, knowing this is going to be worse for him than it will be for me.
He watches me carefully, and I lock my hands behind my back. I stick my tongue out flat, keeping my eyes on his before I start to lick my arousal off his pants. It would be easier if his erection wasn’t in the way, poking through his pants, but it does make it more fun.
“Fuck, angel.” Evan shuts his eyes, dropping his head back.
Well, that just won’t do. I tut, shaking my head. “Eyes on me,” I command, laughing quietly when he curses again.
The taste of my own arousal on my tongue and the look on his face when his gaze meets mine has all my nerves singing with pleasure.
I’ve never felt this good doing something so dirty before, and I love it.
Even when I know I’ve cleaned up most of it, I still continue tracing the length of his shaft with my tongue until he’s whimpering beneath me.
“I-I think you’re done,” he says, breathless.
I tilt my head to the side. “Am I?”
He doesn’t respond to my teasing, and instead, he hauls me back up onto the seat, replacing our positions, and kneels in front of me. He spreads my legs wide, a whoosh of cool air pushing against me, and I lift up my hips to give him better access.
“Now, are you going to let me taste you, Scarlett?” he rasps, running his hands up my thighs before he tugs me closer to the edge of the seat. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, struggling to find the words. “Talk to me, angel.”
“Taste. Touch. Please,” I say, panting out the words as he lowers his mouth to my heat. My nails dig deeper into the leather seats, and my heels click together when they lock around his back.
I think Evan Branson might kill me. But I have to say it would be a perfect way to die.