Chapter 22 #2
“I’m sorry about that. I should’ve been here to make sure you were okay.” Capturing her bottom lip between his teeth, he ran his tongue back and forth over it. “It was wrong of me to leave the way I did yesterday morning. Do you forgive me?”
“No,” she said, breathlessly, grasping his ass with both hands to encourage him to take her.
“Grace . . . Come on! I’m being serious. Tell me you forgive me.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“No,” he said, kissing her again because he couldn’t help himself. “You really shouldn’t, but you will, won’t you?”
“This one time.” She looked up at him, as if to ensure he understood what she was saying. “Not a second time.”
“I’ve learned my lesson. Don’t worry.” Relieved, he flexed his hips and entered her slowly, carefully, holding his breath until he was deep inside her. “Grace . . . Ah, you feel so good.” Letting his forehead drop to her chest, he tried to summon the control he needed to make this good for her.
The light stroke of her fingers on the back of his neck was nearly his undoing. Every time she touched him, it was like the first time all over again.
“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he said.
Watching him with a mixture of awe and trepidation, she did as he asked.
The new position allowed him to go deeper, which made her gasp in surprise and then moan with what sounded like pleasure.
“Good?”
She nodded and dragged his head down for another of those kisses that made him so crazy—sweet and hot at the same time.
He hooked his arms around her legs, opening her even further. “Touch yourself,” he said, his voice harsh from the effort it took to hold back and wait for her.
Her face turned bright red, which he found utterly charming. “I . . . I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can.” Reaching for her hand, he placed it between them and used his fingers on top of hers to stimulate her most sensitive place.
The combined action of their two hands made her entire body flush with heat, turning her rosy nipples a darker shade.
Her lips parted, and her back arched into him.
He picked up the pace, pumping into her with abandon. When he felt her legs start to quiver, he bent his head and sucked hard on her nipple.
As her internal muscles clamped down on his cock, she cried out, and the combination sent him with her into the single most exquisite release of his entire life. His body was racked with shudders as he came for what felt like forever.
Breathing hard, he rested on top of her, mindful of not crushing her with his weight. At least he knew now that what’d happened the other night wasn’t a one-time thing. A bead of sweat rolled into his eye, forcing it to close against the burn.
He started to move off her, but her arms tightened around him. “Not yet,” she said.
Settling into her loving embrace and breathing in her enticing scent, Evan acknowledged that his goose was good and truly cooked.
For Grace, that morning was something out of a dream.
They made love again, slowly this time, and she couldn’t help but notice something had changed.
She wasn’t sure what, but the first time they were together, he’d been lighthearted and amusing.
Now he was serious, almost reverent, as if what they were doing together was the most important thing he’d ever done.
Grace wasn’t complaining. This new Evan was someone she could see herself spending a lot of time with—if he was here to stay.
And wasn’t that the big question? If they spent another night together, which Evan would she wake up to tomorrow morning?
The one who ran for his life at the first sign of something that smacked of commitment?
Or the one who was so tender and attentive?
“I’m starving,” he said, his voice muffled by her breast.
“I’ll order some breakfast.”
He kissed the side of her breast and left a trail of kisses to her lips. “I’ll do it. What do you feel like?”
“An English muffin and some fruit would be good.”
Turning up his nose, he said, “That’s not enough for a bird.”
She needed to tell him why she ate so little, but not now. “It’s more than enough for me.”
“If you say so.” He got up to prowl around the room in the nude.
With her head propped on her hand, Grace watched his every move as he called room service and ordered enough food for ten people.
“Who’s going to eat all that?” she asked when he crawled back into bed and pulled her close to him.
“I am.” He nibbled on her neck, sending shivers down to her toes. “I need to keep up my strength so I can keep up with you.”
“Right,” she said, laughing. “Because it’s all about me.”
“It certainly is.” He ran a finger lightly over her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Everything is suddenly all about you.”
“Why?” she asked, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity of his words.
“For one thing, you’re beautiful—inside and out. But of course you already knew that.”
She shook her head. “Not until you said so.”
“Come on! What’s wrong with the guys in Mystic? Are they blind?”
“They . . . I . . .” Tell him! Say it! “I don’t know.” Trying to redirect his attention, she rested her hand over the scabs on his face. “Does it hurt?”
“Not so bad. That’s also your fault, you know.”
“How in the world is your surfing accident my fault?”
“I was thinking about you when I should’ve been paying attention to the wave.”
Touched by his confession, Grace brought his face down closer to her and placed soft kisses on the wounds.
“That makes it all better.”
She smiled at him and rolled her eyes as he snuggled into her chest, seemingly his favorite place to be when they weren’t making love. “You’re full of it, McCarthy.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Have there been a lot of them?”
“A lot of who?”
“Women.” Grace was already sorry she’d asked because she didn’t really want to know. Well, she kind of wanted to know.
“None that mattered.” He brought her hand to his lips. “Until recently.”
They were quiet for a long time before she said, “Evan?”
“Hmm?”
“Last night, you said something about your album and the record company being bankrupt. Is that true?”
Releasing a deep sigh, he said, “I’m afraid so.”
“What will happen to your album?”
“That’s a very good question. There’s some talk about Buddy Longstreet’s record company trying to buy it from Starlight—that’s the company I signed with. If that happens, I’m saved.”
“And if not?”
“I don’t want to think about that. It’ll mean years of litigation that’ll totally screw my career before it even starts.”
“I hope that doesn’t happen. You’ve worked so hard. I want to see you get your big break.”
“Even if it means you’ll be here and I’ll be God knows where most of the time?”
The question was asked somewhat flippantly, but there was nothing flippant about the way he looked at her, as if his very happiness depended upon her answer.
“If this is what we both want, then we’ll make it work. Somehow.”
“And is this what you want, Grace? Am I what you want?”
“I, ah . . .” She was afraid of appearing far too eager if she blurted out her true feelings on the matter.
“I’ve put you on the spot. I’m sorry.”
“No, no.” Before she could say anything more, there was a sharp rap at the door.
“That’ll be breakfast,” he said, bounding out of bed and heading for the door.
“Evan! Put some pants on!”
“Oh, hell, I knew I forgot something,” he said as he pulled on his shorts.
Grace was seized by a fit of laughter as she tugged the covers up and over her shoulders, mortified by the idea of the waiter seeing her in bed.
Apparently, Evan had thought of that because he took the tray at the door and didn’t let the waiter in. With a great flourish, he presented the meal to her in bed, tucking the rose from the tray behind her ear. “Coffee?”
“Absolutely,” she said, ridiculously pleased by the romantic gesture.
“I take it you’re addicted?”
“Completely and totally. I normally can’t function without my first cup.”
“You functioned just fine without it this morning.”
The comment made her blush, which seemed to please him.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Both, please.”
He handed her the mug and watched her take the first sip, awaiting her verdict.
“Perfect,” she declared. In fact, coffee had never tasted better. She watched his brows furrow with concentration as he spread butter over her English muffin.
“Jelly?”
“Grape.”
When he was satisfied with the distribution of condiments, he held it up for her to take a bite.
“You need to go ahead and eat,” she said, “before it gets cold.”
“If you insist.” He handed the rest of the muffin to her and dove into the eggs and pancakes he’d ordered for himself.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he looked like a little boy who’d had a particularly nasty crash on his two-wheeler the day before.
But when he looked over at her with intent in his eyes, he was every bit the man. “You never answered me, you know.”
Of course she knew exactly what he meant. “What was the question again?” she asked with a coy smile.
“The question, as you know darned well,” he said, leaning over the tray to bring his face in close to hers, “is . . . am I what you want, Grace Ryan?”