Chapter 8 Evie
EVIE
I’m trembling as I step up to Dawson’s door. I could have bailed, but I didn’t. I thought about canceling six times while getting ready, but I didn’t.
I’m here now. I want to be brave for him. For myself. Show him that I actually like him and that turning away was a mistake.
I also don’t know if ‘like’ is the best word to describe my feelings for him…
It’s definitely something closer to infatuation. Obsession. I barely caught a wink of sleep last night as I just kept waking up after dreaming about Dawson kissing me at dinner.
Why didn’t he?
It was my fault. I know it. I shouldn’t have cut the date short. Every step of the way I’ve behaved wrong with this man and he’s put up with it. But now it’s time to face my fears.
So taking a deep breath, I raise my hand to knock on his door. But before I can, I hear his voice from inside. “Come in, Evie.”
My mouth falls open. Moving automatically, I turn the knob and step inside. I’m instantly greeted by warm, cozy lighting, and the wonderful scent of garlic and herbs.
Dawson’s house is really nice and really tasteful. Much more so than I expected from a man with such calluses. There’s even a coat rack by the door that looks like it was handmade from a wild piece of wood. It’s beautiful.
As I take off my sweater, I brush against one of his jackets. It releases a dose of his scent that causes my eyes to close and my body to go tense.
This is not good. I’m already losing control. But when Dawson’s voice rings out again, it’s like his hands are already on me, steadying me. Calming me. Telling me that everything will be okay.
“I hope you like chicken,” he says as I walk deeper into the house. There’s a cutout connecting the living room to the kitchen, and I see him standing at the stove, bulging biceps threatening to tear from the short sleeve dress shirt he’s got on. “This is my mom’s famous garlic chicken recipe.”
I move slowly to the counter, trying to calm my jitters. When I told Reese that I agreed to dinner tonight at his place, she thought I was lying. Even now, I’m not sure I’m actually here. The whole world feels like a dream.
“How did you know?” I ask. He looks up from chopping parsley, and I find myself staring down those eyes.
Hot and sexy. Almost too much to handle.
A shudder runs through my body. I know he can see it, because the corner of his lip twists, and I feel myself blushing. But this time, I don’t look away. I’m not here to be afraid. Not anymore.
“How did I know what?” he asks.
“That I was here. I was just about to knock when you told me to come in.”
He smirks, tapping a finger against his temple. “I sensed it.”
“Is that right?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head and points to a screen on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before. “Front door camera.”
I pretend to deflate and shake my head back at him. “You should have kept it a secret. More mystical.”
I watch as he starts plating our meals. It’s such a contrast to see such a big, strong, rugged man doing something so domestic.
I offer to help, but he refuses and tells me just to take a seat.
So I do. And find myself sitting at the table, a soft candle between us, eating the best chicken I’ve ever eaten.
“This is delicious,” I tell him, trying not to scarf it down like I’ve been starving myself all day—which I have been.
“Didn’t I mention I used to be a chef?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Really?”
“Yup. McDonald’s. Three months of cooking three-star Michelin cuisine.”
I choke on a laugh so hard I almost spit out my drink and have to quickly grab a napkin. As I dab my lips, I realize I’m not nearly as anxious as I thought I’d be, especially after making a fool out of myself.
Dawson has somehow shifted from the cause of my anxiety, to the cure for it. The house, the meal, his very presence has me feeling almost relaxed. Although I can’t stop wondering what’s going to happen next.
I don’t skip dessert this time. It’s a strawberry gelato with fresh berries, and it’s also delicious. I offer to clean up. But Dawson isn’t having any of it.
“No,” he says, taking me by the hand. “I’ve got something better in mind.”
His words cause me to jump, and as he takes my hand and leads me into the living room, I’m shocked to realize I’m not panicked. It’s more like I’m anticipating something.
We reach the couch, and I move to sit, but he doesn’t let me. His strong grip finds my waist and secures me where I am. My lips fall open, and I gasp as I look up at him, strong eyes, the ember flecks burning down at me.
Expecting.
He wants something, and not just the obvious.
And then it hits me. He wants me to ask him. He already told me. And this time, feeling my pulse in my neck, I find the courage.
“Kiss me.”
His eyes darken, and without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips against mine.
My first kiss.
It’s like being struck by lightning. His lips envelop mine, sending a tingling sensation through my entire body. My thighs blaze as he presses his tongue into my mouth, embracing me like a starving man.
His strong fingers thread through my hair, grasping a fistful and holding me tight. He bends me into him, causing my back to arch. The warmth from his body spreads into mine.
The stubble on his chin, his raw strength, his scent sweeping into my nostrils—it’s more than I ever could have imagined. It’s overwhelming. In fact, it’s almost too much.
My heartbeat is rapid, and I start to pull back out of reflex, my anxiety spiking back from the darkness. But Dawson doesn’t let me. He cups my face, and with a voice so strong it feels like it could shift the Earth’s tectonic plates, he says, “Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Something inside me starts to settle. I keep my eyes locked on his as he slides a hand up my thigh, causing my body to buzz.
“Dawson…”
“When was the last time a man touched you?” he asks, his voice low and rough. My face burns, causing me to finally look away. I’m going to admit it to him, and he’s going to lose all interest.
“I…no one ever has…”
I feel like I’m admitting to a crime or something and wait for his inevitable response. But to my surprise, his grip on me tightens, and he presses his lips gently against my mouth. “Good.”
Wait, what? Did he just say that?
“I’ll be your first and last, Evie.” He moves with dominance and authority as he starts to undress me. He unties my top, and it falls, exposing my naked breasts to him. A hint of nerves spark in my chest, but when I see the look of approval on his face, they vanish.
“Your tits are better than I ever imagined,” he growls. “And no one’s seen them but me?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He grasps them with both hands, causing my breath to catch. And when he moves his hand down and unzips my jeans, reaching two fingers down beneath my panties, I nearly faint.
Even the hint of his touch is so much more powerful than Charles. The difference is so staggering as he parts my slick lips that tears begin to pool in my eyes. My vibrator has always gotten the job done but in a clinical way. Dawson’s warmth, the way he reads my body as he moves…it’s life.
It’s the coming together of two souls. And as he adjusts his pressure, his speed, his angle, keeping his eyes intent on my face, I feel more naked than I’ve ever been. And I’m not even fully out of my clothes.
Add on to the fact that I haven’t come in several days, and within seconds, I feel a major orgasm approaching.
No. It’s a revelation.
“I’m…coming…” I somehow manage to whisper as every muscle in my body goes tense—so tense that my legs give out from under me. But Dawson holds me, keeping me from falling.
He makes me feel safe as I quiver. Precious as I moan. Treasured as I grab his strong arms and hang on for dear life.
I can’t even imagine the faces I’m making right now. But I don’t care. I don’t because I know he doesn’t. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers, injecting another dose of bliss into my body. He delights in pleasuring me.
My mind starts working again as I start to come down. A man is doing this to me. A real man.
A tear falls down my cheek as the realization of what just happened fully hits me. Dawson wipes it away with his thumb, showing his tender side that I doubt most girls have seen.
“That was incredible,” I whimper.
I reach out and grip the bulge between his legs, but he shakes his head. “Take your time, baby. This one’s for you.”
This is it. This is what I’ve been missing.
That hollow feeling inside me is closing. But it’s not quite there yet.
There’s more coming.
And as Dawson tugs my pants down to my ankles and pushes me down onto the couch, I realize I’m finally ready.