16. Say goodnight to me again #4
Everything around me feels loud and easy and bright.
But my mind is back with a tired firefighter. Sitting on a couch, with his daughter safely sleeping down the hall, and a Dalmatian dog sleeping at his feet.
***
The house is quiet when I let myself in after waving off Frankie and Remi. The kind of quiet that settles after a long day, when everything has found its place. The lamp in the living room is still on, casting a soft pool of light across the couch. But the TV is off. The kitchen is clean.
And he’s awake.
“Midnight?” Evan’s voice comes from the couch.
I close the door behind me softly, slipping out of my heels and dropping them onto the carpet at my feet. “It’s eleven forty-eight.”
“That’s pushin' it.”
I lean back against the doorframe and glance over at him. He’s sprawled slightly into the corner of the couch, one arm stretched along the back, shirt rumpled, and hair still a little damp at the temples, probably from a shower after putting Elle down. Gus is at his feet, barely lifting his head.
“You waiting up to enforce curfew?” I ask.
“Something like that. Wouldn’t want you turning into a pumpkin.”
I huff and step further into the room, letting the warmth of the house wrap back around me. “Did she get to sleep okay?”
“Out cold.”
“Good,” I say softly.
He watches me as I move, not hiding or pretending he isn’t. “You have fun?”
“Yeah,” I say, slipping my jacket off and tossing it over the arm of the chair. “Played pool. Had a mojito in the correct glass. Got interrogated.”
“About me?”
“Among other things.”
His mouth twitches faintly, and I hesitate, then step closer to him.
“You didn’t kiss me goodnight.”
It comes out before I can dress it up, and his expression shifts almost immediately.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “Wasn’t sure if I should put you on the spot like that.”
“I wouldn’t have been uncomfortable.”
“That’s good to know now,” he replies, pushing up from the couch slowly to stand in front of me. “But I wasn’t sure then.”
I fold my arms loosely, holding my ground as he steps closer.
“You’ve kissed me before,” I point out. “So what changed?”
“You were leaving,” he says simply. “To go out. I didn’t want it to feel like I expected anything.”
The answer hits somewhere painfully soft inside me, because even now, standing here wanting me, he was more worried about crossing a line than taking what he could’ve had.
“Well, now you know,” I admit, watching as his eyes travel between mine and down to my lips, his jaw working slowly. “I wanted you to.”
He hums his agreement and steps into my space fully. “I think we’re both past pretending we don’t want that.”
“You said you don’t blur lines,” I remind him quietly, and he shakes his head.
“I said I don’t blur them for just anyone.”
I tilt my head slightly, searching his face. “And I’m not just anyone?”
His hand comes up to my cheek, fingers brushing along my jaw before settling at the side of my neck.
“No, Pen,” he says, voice low. “You’re not.”
Something in my chest gives slightly at the words, and it feels like a knot I’ve been carrying for years finally starts to loosen.
“So tell me again,” he murmurs, his thumb shifting lightly against my skin.
“What?”
“Say goodnight to me again.”
My pulse stutters, and I hold his gaze for a second, watching him track the way my throat moves when I swallow. The big clock suddenly ticks loudly on the wall, and I glance at it briefly.
Midnight.
“Goodnight, Evan.”
His eyes hold mine for one more moment, checking for hesitation he already knows he won’t find. Then his hand drops, and his fingers hook into the belt loop of my jeans.
“Night, Pen,” he husks.
And then he tugs, just enough to pull me flush against him. Enough for my hands to land against his chest and for every careful inch of space between us to disappear.
The kiss is nothing like the one on the couch from the other night. That one had uncertainty and questions in it.
This one doesn’t.
His mouth presses to mine with intent, lips moving against me as his hand tightens at the back of my neck, the other still caught in my belt loop. A soft sound slips out of me before I can stop it, and I feel the shift of his body, the way he leans in like he’s been waiting to do this all night.
My hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.
“Tell me to stop,” he mutters against my mouth.
I shake my head and keep kissing him. “Don’t.”
His hand flexes at my hip, tugging me that last impossible inch closer. I go easily, pressing into him and feeling how hard he is, the last of the distance between us gone.
“Penny,” he says roughly, pulling away momentarily, and I tilt my head back just enough to meet those honey eyes.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want you to take me to bed.”
Something decisive flits across his face, then his hands shift at my waist, and I’m moving, lifted before I can think about it. My arms lock around his shoulders as my legs wrap around him, and he kisses me again.
“Very fucking gladly,” he rasps.
And then he moves.