24 Evie
24 Evie
H ? i An, Vi ? t Nam
She’s held it in as long as she can, but now it’s two a.m., she desperately has to pee, and she’s staring down the hallway
of a very dark villa belonging to a couple who absolutely despise her. Glancing back into the room, she hears Fen’s light snores. There
weren’t enough rooms for everyone to have a single, so most were paired up. The night is silent and darker than sin, with
no moonlight streaming through the windows, no friendly twinkle of stars. And no night-light. What kind of sociopath doesn’t
keep a night-light in a hallway?
As she slowly makes her way down the corridor, feeling the walls and trying to remember which door leads to the bathroom,
she can’t help thinking about her outburst at dinner. What had come over her? It wasn’t even her fight—well, until beaver-faced
Quy ? n got personal—but it physically pained her to hear Adam’s father speaking that way about him. For all Adam’s faults, no one
can criticize him for his lack of devotion to the company. Many times, returning after a late night on the tour, she has seen
Adam working on his laptop at the bar, nursing a whiskey as he taps away, oblivious to all around him.
Now she thinks she understands why Adam withdrew in the caves when talking about his father. He was sharing something with
her, something deeply painful, from the looks of it. And she rebuffed him, unable to practice enough patience to listen for once, instead of just reacting blindly. And now she’s done it again, creating tension and alienating herself from his parents, who are, after all, her hosts.
Where the hell is that bathroom? At that moment, she walks straight into a door.
“Ow.” She grimaces.
She gives a quiet knock and, hearing silence, turns the knob slowly. With a sigh of relief, she takes in the tiled floor under
her feet, the faint outline of a standing shower. A flick of the light reveals the interior of the bathroom, complete with
a toilet. That blessed toilet.
After washing her hands, Evie tiptoes into the dark. A cinch now that she knows the way. She’s thinking about the best way
to get back into the Quy ? ns’ graces—lavish flowers? Extravagant chocolates? Maybe just a simple apology. Ugh.
When she pushes open the door to her room, she stumbles inside... and walks right into a warm body. She opens her mouth
to scream, but then there’s a hand clamped over her lips. A warm breath in her ear.
“Shh,” Adam says, tickling her neck with his breath. “It’s just me.”
“What the hell are you doing in the dark?” she demands.
He turns on a small lamp. “Working. But I was just leaving, actually. And then you invaded my space and stormed into me like a battering ram.”
She hears the hint of a smile in his voice, and it’s enough to melt her. Now that the darkness is at bay, Evie can see that
the room is a small library lined with books from wall to wall. More a closet than an actual room. There’s just enough space
for a leather armchair in the corner and a table with a lamp. Unlike the rest of the house, which is spacious and elegantly
designed, this room feels almost cramped, but not unpleasantly so. It has a cozy, lived-in quality.
“Sorry about that,” she mutters. “I was trying to find my way back to my room.”
“Two doors to the left.”
The planes of his face are highlighted by the dim lamplight. A strong jaw. Lush lips. That disheveled hair, as if he’s been running his hand through it as he read. He knows where her room is. The thought makes her tingly.
“Is this a library?”
“Sort of. It’s just a space where I go when I’m here. M ? thought it was too small for anything, even a maid’s room. I had the shelves built, and when I can’t sleep—”
Evie touches the books. “Russian novels?”
“No,” he says indignantly. “There are some British ones too.”
“Atlas would be pleased,” she says absently, sitting on the corner of his desk with a book in her lap. Paging through it.
“Who is Atlas?”
Evie looks up then. Is that a hint of annoyance in his voice?
“My ex. He’s an Anglophile. Probably communing with Chaucer’s ghost in Westminster Abbey at the moment.”
“Ah,” he says. His eyes flicker with something deeper.
She places the book back on the shelf behind her. “What is with the Quy ? n men and that word? You realize that being monosyllabic isn’t as charming as you would lead us to believe?”
“I doubt my father’s goal is ‘charming,’” he says dryly.
“Really? He works so hard at it.”
He chuckles, a surprising sound that makes her heart skip. Then he gets closer, so he’s standing in front of her. She tries
to scoot back, not because she doesn’t want his proximity, but because she’s afraid of what might happen if they get too close.
There’s nowhere to go, so she leans on her palms. Only then does she realize she’s basically thrusting her scantily clad chest
up at him. His gaze dips down to the small bit of lace in the vee of her camisole, then rises again to hers. Darkening with
intent.
“I see now what you meant in the caves,” she tells him. “Your father isn’t at all like mine, and I shouldn’t have assumed
that we had the same experience, Adam. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “You didn’t know. But I’m grateful to you for defending me at dinner. No one has ever done that before. I mean,
ever.”
She can tell he means it, and that devastates her. The thought of Adam living his life in this lonely way, fielding criticism while never letting anyone stand by his side. That doesn’t excuse her rash words toward his father, though. When she leans forward, one of her camisole straps falls onto her arm. Adam’s eyes pivot to the strap and slowly, ever so slowly, he glides it back onto her shoulder with one finger. He doesn’t lift the finger, only lets it remain, like a brand.
Her voice comes out too shaky. “It was nothing. Honestly, I was probably too harsh with your dad. Was actually planning on
apologizing to him tomorrow. Smooth things over?”
“The hell you will,” he swears, suddenly savage. “That fool needed to hear it. And not just from you. From all of us. Evie,
do you know how it made me feel when you spoke up for me?”
“Lightly annoyed?” she asks in a small voice.
“So fucking turned on,” he growls.
She feels her eyes widening, her legs turning weak under his gaze. Adam. His throat working down emotion as he plants a hand on each side of her. Invading her space, her air. Exactly where she needs
him. Without thinking, her knees open for him, and she utters a sound like a surprised animal. A sound of longing.
He curses and slips into the opening between her legs, with only a couple of layers of fabric separating them. She uses the
inside of her thighs to graze his hips.
He continues, “I wanted to take you far away from everyone and fuck you senseless on the sand. In the water. Everywhere. Every
which way. On your back. Against a wall. Against this desk.”
“Oh,” she breathes. He’s so close that she can smell pine and laundry detergent. And a hint of mint. A deliciously male scent
that makes her irrationally angry at anyone who’s ever gotten a chance to smell him up close like this before her.
He lifts one hand from the desk and runs it up to her jawline, using his thumb to stroke the heat into her face, until it
travels down to the very center of her. Her eyes flutter closed.
He purrs, “How does that make you feel, baby? Knowing that every second of the day, I think of all the creative ways to make you come?”
Instead of answering, she wraps her legs around him and uses her hands to drag his face down to hers. Roughly this time, like
she’s starving and he’s the very last meal on earth. When their lips meet, it’s at a frantic, devouring pace, his lips crushing
hers, his tongue traveling everywhere at once, drawing hers out in a tangle of sweetness and sensation. Then his lips are
on her shoulders, his teeth tugging lightly at her straps.
“These tiny strings, holding up this tiny shirt,” he groans. “I don’t want to rip it. And I do. I’m afraid to get too rough
with you.”
Her mind circling in dizzy, pleasure-soaked circles, she faintly registers his words. And she realizes she wants it that way
too. She can’t pull the camisole over her head fast enough. “Get rough, Adam.”
“You sure, baby?”
“Yes,” she breathes, looking into his eyes, so he knows how certain she is. “I want all of you.”
Without another word, his mouth is on her breast, sucking on her nipple, holding her against his body so there’s no space
between them at all. No air or sound, except for her moans of pleasure. While one hand kneads her other breast, his other
travels down to the folds between her thighs, finding her wetness. His fingers slide around until they find the center of
her pleasure. Then she sees stars. There’s nothing in her brain but the feeling of his tongue circling her nipple while his
thumb brushes again and again against her clit. Her head falls back, so the column of her throat is exposed, and then he’s
there, kissing and licking the tender skin.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs. “But I want to taste you everywhere.”
When she nods, unable to do anything else, her body a tense, packed ball of sensation, of heat and aching need, he gently
places his hand on her chest and lowers her so she’s flat on the desk, her legs splayed open before him. He removes her silk
shorts, under which she wears no underwear. Seeing that, he groans and she smiles, knowing that she makes him feel just as
undone as he makes her.
He kisses up her thighs, gently at first, almost like nipping, and then rougher, the way she wants him. He teases around her mound, licking the sensitive spots, but, frustrated, she moves her legs, drawing him closer to her. As close as he can get.
“So eager,” he murmurs.
He chuckles, and then, before she can reply indignantly, he gives her what she wants, placing his mouth on her completely.
He licks around her sensitive nub until her breath comes fast and hard, pressing and drawing circles around it. How does he
know exactly how to wring pleasure from her? It’s as if he’s reading her mind, so in sync that they barely have to talk.
Then he slides a finger inside of her, and she loses all notion of where she is, what she’s doing. She’s panting fast as he
licks and suckles, crooking his finger to find that perfect, sacred spot. And then her thighs tighten and she bursts apart,
in a shower of pleasure and complete satisfaction. He draws away briefly, then comes back, as if to give her more pleasure.
His breath hot on her.
“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he murmurs into her thighs. “I could lick you all night long. The only dessert I need.”
She sits up a little and shakes her head. “That’s not enough. I want you . Inside of me.”
She pushes him gently away and helps him out of his sweatpants. She drags her hand up his legs and strokes the length of him.
Takes it into her mouth and sucks hard, licks with rough, short movements. Drives him to the edge, the way he did her. She
cups his ass, drawing him closer, taking in another inch, then two.
“Come here,” he growls.
When she gives another protesting lick, he pulls her up with two hands, as if she’s nothing more than a rag doll, and pushes
her onto the desk, so that her cheek is pressed against the cool wood. He uses his knees to open her legs wider. From her
position, she can’t see what he’s doing, or read the expression in his eyes, which makes it all the hotter. Knowing that he
will take her in exactly the way he wants. She hears the foil of a condom, then the feeling of his body settling behind hers.
Yes.
“You ready for me, baby?” He uses his middle finger to feel inside the center of her. “You still feel wet as hell. Wet for me.”
As an answer, she reaches behind her and pulls his body closer. Then the tip of him is at her entrance and he thrusts in a
swift, heady movement that makes her gasp aloud. From this angle, behind her, he’s reaching new places, new sensations. And
he’s not taking it slow this time. He’s pounding into her, faster and faster, and all she can hear is the sound of flesh on
flesh, his grunts of pleasure, and her own sighing moans.
She’s trying to stay quiet, but all she wants to do is scream. Especially when he takes that finger of his and begins playing
with her clit as he thrusts, activating every single sensation in her body. Lighting up the ions as she climbs closer and
closer to her peak. And then she’s there, falling fast, falling with delicious tingling sensations that shake her whole body.
But she still wants more. More of him. More of them together.
“You are so tight,” he gasps. “I can’t stop. Evie, I’m going to come. I can’t—”
As an answer, she pushes her ass back on his cock, shoving herself as hard and fast as him, meeting his thrusts with her own
movements. Then, when he can’t take any more, he grips her hips tightly and lets out his own release in a long, shuddering
breath.
Moments later, he withdraws slowly from her and removes the condom. He pulls her onto the armchair, on his lap, and begins
stroking her arms. Gently this time. Adoringly.
“Are you all right?” he asks in a quiet voice, kissing her shoulder. “Was that too much?”
She leans against his chest, curling up into his protective grasp. It feels like exactly where she should be. “I’m great.
Better than great.”
“Are you sure?”
There’s a ragged tone to his voice. That better not be regret , she thinks. She pivots and reaches up to kiss him on the lips. Their kiss now has something new to it, not just the frantic
need they summon in one another, but something more tender. A kind of intimacy that feels just as satisfying as what came
before.
Evie allows herself to imagine it, just for a second. Coming home to him, settling her head on his shoulder as they talk about their days. Feeding him bites of ice cream, and then taking him to bed. Again and again. A lifetime of this. Her heart wrenches in a longing she’s never felt before. The desire to keep him.
She says, meaning it completely, “Adam, I have never felt better in my entire life.”
He gathers her closer, his arms surrounding her body like a blanket. When she cranes her head to look at him, she sees a smile
growing across his face. Tentative, yet hopeful. Full of all the emerging feelings inside her. Lust and delight and the beginnings
of familiarity. She wants to know everything about him, to always stand up for him against others, to hear his teasing and
give it right back.
She knows they’ll have to untangle themselves soon. It wouldn’t do for them to be found naked, alone together in his parents’
home. But she feels drowsy and sated and so very comfortable in his arms. Just for a second, she allows her eyes to droop. For her body to melt into his, like butter
on toast. His breath slows to a steady rhythm that matches hers. She can’t remember feeling this safe.
That’s her last thought before she falls deeply, happily into sleep, with Adam nestled close behind her.