Chapter Ten #4
Fingers of one hand threaded into Evie’s hair, she ran the other up under Evie’s T-shirt, her palm running over Evie’s bare back, absorbing the warmth, marveling at the softness.
Evie’s mouth was back on hers, kissing her deeply.
Thoroughly. Plundering her mouth, her tongue taking liberties and Rowan allowing them.
She spread her legs, making room for Evie to settle her hips against her, and Rowan realized then just how wet she was.
Ridiculously so. As if reading her mind, Evie slipped a hand between them, her fingers searching, pressing, probing until she found Rowan’s soaking center through the fabric of her shorts, and they both gasped.
Too loudly. Their eyes met, and they laughed very quietly, and the vision of Evie above her, smiling down at her, was so shockingly normal, it brought tears to Rowan’s eyes.
With the threat of the tears came questions.
What about the breakup? What exactly was this?
—but then Evie’s mouth chased them away, at least for the time being, drowning Rowan in the pleasure of being wanted, desired.
Evie’s fingers slipped beneath Rowan’s shorts, and it was like a zap of electricity shot through her legs.
“Jesus, you’re so wet,” Evie muttered as she stroked.
Her face was mere millimeters from Rowan’s, their eyes locked.
A faraway voice in Rowan’s mind seemed to be shouting those questions—what were they doing?
What the hell was happening? But the blood rushing in her ears drowned it out.
She hadn’t been with anybody since the breakup with Evie—at least nobody she could remember—and the feeling of Evie touching her, kissing her, that eye contact…
it was all too delicious to give up. No, Rowan stifled that voice and did what she could to focus on the now. It made her think of Evie’s tattoo.
here, now…
She clung to that as Evie’s fingers sank into her and a moan emanated from Rowan’s throat.
“Shh!” Evie whispered near her lips. “We don’t want to wake anybody up.”
Rowan’s response was a soft whimper that caused Evie to grin.
“You never could keep quiet.”
“I always told you to take it as a compliment,” Rowan said softly, followed by “Oh, God” when Evie switched up her rhythm.
Sex had always been fun for them. They’d had an easy, super-sexy and entertaining life in the bedroom.
Sex had also always been incredible for them.
They’d always been on the same page, but this was different.
That happy little exchange morphed back to seriousness as Rowan felt her orgasm building, the heat growing, the tingling beginning in her legs, making her thighs quake just a bit.
She probably should have stopped Evie at that point, and she knew it, but it was too late.
Besides, there was nothing wrong with finding some pleasure where she could, right?
So it was Evie. So what? It was better that it was somebody she knew, somebody she trusted, wasn’t it? Somebody she felt safe with?
As if the eye contact became too much for her, too, Evie closed hers and lowered her mouth to Rowan’s, kissing her deeply, even as her fingers continued to drive Rowan higher.
The kissing became hungrier, more desperate, Rowan pushing back with her tongue, making a valiant effort to battle Evie for control and losing in a landslide of sensation.
In the next moment, she wrenched her mouth away from Evie’s, arching her back, her head pressing into the pillow under her as her muscles tightened and the orgasm ripped through her.
She grabbed a handful of the blanket in her fist as a low sound issued from her throat, and Evie clamped a hand over her mouth with a grin.
“Rowan! Shh!”
Rowan’s laugh shook her body under Evie’s as she tried to quietly ride out her orgasm, her legs wrapped around Evie’s waist, the added pressure of Evie’s hand over her mouth just making it all so much sexier.
She came down slowly, the pulsing in her body easing into gentle throbs as her muscles began to relax.
Evie removed her hand and gazed down at her with that beautiful face, those cheekbones, those eyes that always betrayed her.
Evie could never hide anything from Rowan if Rowan could look at her eyes.
Just like now. It was there. It was all there.
And it spurred Rowan. She couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to.
She moved. Shifted herself around until Evie was on her back beneath her, surprised if the widening of her eyes was any indication.
Rowan wasted no time removing her clothes.
She didn’t care that she was still wearing her shorts, that Evie had worked around them.
She was in charge now. She was on top. On her knees, she straightened and pulled her tank top off over her head, knowing Evie’s eyes were on her.
Then she grasped the waistband of Evie’s shorts and yanked them down, off.
Evie’s quiet gasp sent a shot of more wetness to Rowan’s center as she maneuvered Evie’s legs so she could crouch between them.
No hesitation. No more foreplay. She simply lowered her mouth to Evie and tasted her.
“Jesus Christ,” Evie whispered as Rowan glanced up at her but kept her tongue where it was, moving it slowly. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”
Rowan was torn. Torn between fast and slow.
Torn between taking what she wanted immediately and taking her time.
Torn between giving Evie release and drawing it out.
She knew she could. Even after all the time that had passed—though it seemed like much less for Rowan—she knew Evie.
She knew her. She knew this body, what it liked, how to touch it, what kind of pressure, how to make it last. Evie’s hand was in her hair now, trying to direct her to the spot she wanted her most, and Rowan smiled at the memory of it, of how Evie subtly tried to control things in bed, of how much fun it was for Rowan to let her think she was and then proving her wrong.
She reached up with one hand to stroke Evie’s arm, and Evie let go of her hair for a moment.
That was all Rowan needed. She grasped Evie’s wrist and held it, not allowing her to direct her again, and Evie’s quiet whimper made her smile against the wet flesh at her mouth.
She took her time, exploring, stroking, bringing Evie close only to back her off again, enough times that Rowan’s legs started to fall asleep, tingles beginning in her feet from so long in that crouched position between Evie’s legs.
But it was only when Evie whispered a soft “Please, Rowan” that things suddenly began to feel different.
It was reality setting in, and Rowan knew it in an instant.
She found the right spot—she’d known exactly where it was all along—and stroked it.
Once, twice, and that was it, she tipped Evie over the edge and into the abyss.
She watched in awe as Evie’s body arched, and she let go of her wrist, which sent Evie’s hand right back into her hair.
Rowan held her hips tightly, taking in what it felt like to grip them in the throes of Evie’s orgasm, because this couldn’t happen again, and she wanted to remember it, to pack it away in her faulty Swiss cheese brain.
Watching the gorgeous display before her—the beautiful, feminine vulnerability—felt like Evie had reached into her chest and grabbed her heart in a fist. Squeezed it painfully. Rowan’s eyes filled with tears.
She waited long enough for Evie to come down, to catch her breath, to open her eyes. Her smile slid right off her face when she saw Rowan’s. “What?” she asked on a whisper. “What is it? Are you okay?”
Rowan shook her head as the tears spilled over. “No. No, I’m not.” She pushed herself to a sitting position on the couch. “What are we doing, Evie? I mean, what was that?”
Evie blinked several times, and her throat moved as she swallowed. She seemed like she wanted to say something, several somethings maybe, but instead, she looked down at the blanket, picked at a loose thread.
I don’t love you anymore.
The words came screaming back into Rowan’s head as if they’d been waiting for the exact perfect moment to punch her the hardest, and this was it.
“This was a mistake.”
Evie’s head snapped up, and she looked like Rowan had slapped her. “Rowan. No.”
Without saying anything more, Rowan found her tank and put it on.
“Rowan. Wait. Please.”
She couldn’t. She didn’t want Evie to see her cry any more than she already had. She turned and headed for the stairs. The fact that she passed Claire halfway up didn’t even matter, she felt that defeated, and she was that angry with herself.
Casual sex was a thing, and Rowan wasn’t against it. But having sex with somebody you loved who didn’t love you back wasn’t casual. And it wasn’t smart.
Back in her room, she shut the door quietly, locked it, and fell face-first onto her bed.
Her body was still throbbing subtly, still recalling what Evie had felt like.
Above her. Beneath her. Inside her. What she tasted like.
What she sounded like. All the memories of their relationship came flooding back as if they’d been waiting behind a dam for Evie to show up with a pickaxe.
“God, I’m so stupid.” She said the words aloud, released them into the room.
And then she pulled a pillow over her face and cried.