Chapter 10
Eva
“So are you going to tell me the real reason Cooper’s wrist is in plaster?” Mum asked my brother, voice muffled through the walls.
I leant closer, camouflaged by the cascading darkness of the stairs and honed in on what I knew would be happening in the kitchen below.
Sebastian would be elbow deep in a sink of dishes, washing each before handing them to Mum to dry.
We both had our jobs and I suspected this was one Mum gave Sebastian as she always used the time to interrogate him and consequently, I used it to practice my eavesdropping skills.
While I longed to be part of the nightly ritual, I took advantage of the time to listen into conversation never meant for me.
“He got into a fight,” Seb said finally, but I could tell he was grinning.
It was barely a fight. Over before it even started apparently, and the other boy was left with a bruised ego to match his eye with how quickly Cooper took him down.
Mum didn’t reply but I could imagine the look on her face. One brow raised in anticipation of the rest of the story which she knew her son would eventually share. Nothing was safe when Judy Micallef gave you her infamous ‘confess or else’ glare.
“The kid deserved it,” Seb replied angrily, and I tentatively took the next step, careful to avoid the left side which always squeaked if I pressed too hard. “In Maths, this idiot Kenny told me he was going to pop Eva’s cherry and Coop overheard. You know how protective he is of her.”
I froze, trying to understand what Sebastian meant.
Pop my cherry? Cooper protective of me? Huh?
“That little prick,” Mum retorted before Seb and her both erupted into quiet giggles. I smiled too, not because I understood, but because I liked when Mum swore. It was always so intentional.
“How did Coop’s parents take the broken wrist?” Mum asked once they stopped laughing, humour still in her tone.
“The same way they take everything. Probably won’t speak to him for a month.”
“Tell him to come and stay here this weekend,” Mum replied before they fell into silence once again and I used the opportunity to retreat to my bedroom.
This was the second time Cooper Dane had come to my defence, only this time I wasn’t entirely clear on why it’d made him so mad or who I could ask to explain what that meant.
Like a deck of cards thrown into the wind, the papers I’d been holding flew from my hands, scattering in every direction before settling on the floor.
“Jesus, Coop, you scared the heck out of me.” The Paramore track bled into the quiet room the moment I removed my headphones. “I didn’t see you.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you but I’m heading out to grab some lunch if you want something.”
“Is it lunch time already?” Twisting the phone he had in his grasp, I tapped the screen, gasping at how the day had run away while my head was buried in numbers and papers.
“Why do you have a picture of me as your screensaver?” I asked incredulously, only just realising that I was sitting behind the time as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
His lips twitched as he looked down at the image before meeting my gaze guiltily.
“Isn’t that what a fiancé would normally do?” He asked innocently.
“When did you even take that?” I lifted his hand, again pressing the screen to take another look.
“The other day,” he shrugged as if it was completely normal that he captured a sneaky photo while I stood on his back deck basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun.
“You could have chosen a better photo,” I scoffed, my face twisting into a scowl at the bird's nest sitting on top of my head and my off the shoulder jumper and tights that do absolutely nothing for my figure.
“I like it,” he replied earnestly, “It’s… you.”
I tilted my head assessing. His moods were so sporadic, I struggled to read him. Most of the time he was buoyant, calm and entirely attuned to what I needed, but other times, like yesterday, he withdrew. Became quiet, morose even, lost to an inner dialogue I wished I could hear.
He watched me, his hair falling effortlessly across his forehead, and it was then I noticed the ghost of crimson lingering on his skin just below his eye.
Stepping forward, I traced the pads of my fingers across his cheek gently.
“How did you get this?” I asked, knowing this hadn’t been there yesterday when I was talking to him in his office.
I’d heard him go out late last night, his bike roaring down the driveway, but I didn’t ask him where he went.
We weren’t actually dating, which meant I didn’t really have any right to know.
But today there was a vacancy in his eyes which was new.
He tenderly encased my hand in his own and removed it from his face, the same red hue visible on his knuckles.
“Were you in a fight?” I breathed, my other hand tracing the swollen ridges of bone, still pulsing with heat.
Had his father done this to him?
“You worried about me, Evy?” He asked, almost mockingly and my brows pinched into a frown.
“No,” I tried.
“That’s a lie.” He stated with confidence I shouldn’t be finding attractive. “You’ve never been good at lying.”
“I’m not lying.” I fibbed adamantly.
He studied me quietly and for a second, I thought he was going to explain himself or elaborate on his obvious bruises, but my stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting us.
“You need food.” His avoidance was obvious, but he was correct, so I made a mental note to ask Sebastian.
“I do. But I can go, you stay,” I offered, thinking it was probably within my role statement to look after him rather than the other way around.
I could also do with a change of scenery, especially now that I knew I’d been in this room for the last four hours without so much as a toilet break.
Pocketing my phone, I stepped around him ready to ask what he felt like, only his grip on my arm halted me.
The warmth of his hand circling my wrist in his grasp felt different to the other times he’d touched me - more tender.
I didn’t pull away as I took in his dark brown boots, denim jeans and black polo.
The corded strength of his sun-kissed forearms and the familiarity of those hands I would recognise in a line-up of thousands, only never holding onto me like this.
When my gaze finally lifted to meet his, he was already staring at me with an intensity which sent goosebumps across my skin.
“I’m going to grab the food,” he said, his thumb swiping the inside of my wrist tenderly. “Because that’s what fiancés do,” he added, with a cheeky wink.
I smirked, unable to stop the pesky part of my brain reminding me this was all part of the act.
His full tooth smile and bright blues holding a mirth which reminded me of the boy I’d once known.
The boy I’d harboured an unrequited, childhood/teenage/still current if I was entirely honest, crush on.
I was trying incredibly hard to remind myself that this was a mutually beneficial arrangement and that was the only reason I was here.
But truthfully, there were times like this, when he looked at me as though I were all he could see, that I forgot about the facade.
Forgot about anything other than the feel of his rough hands on my skin and how that same gentle caress might feel somewhere else.
“What are you thinking?” His question was weighted with a charge I felt pulsing between my legs.
“I’m wondering what you’re doing?” I sounded off kilter.
“Someone could walk in,” he said as if that made perfect sense. “Shouldn’t we be putting more effort into faking it here? Shouldn’t I touch my woman?”
MY WOMAN. Fudge it to all that is holy.
“I guess.” I sounded breathless at this point.
Had anyone ever referred to me as their woman?
“Just to keep up appearances, maybe.” I spoke.
But honestly, I wasn’t thinking straight. Couldn’t possibly when he looked at me like that with dilated pupils and parted lips. Couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the way my chest tightened, and my nipples pebbled at the unspoken need infiltrating the air.
“I need a tea,” I added, desperate to cut through the tension, my body using all available oxygen to maintain an appropriate body temperature under the stroke of his thumb against my wrist.
“There are mint tea bags in the top drawer,” he replied equally hoarse and instinctively I stepped closer, desperate for something, anything - just more.
His thoughtfulness softened my resolve. Mint tea bags both here and at home, a pantry which would make a baker weak, a patience for every question I asked and infinite space when I needed silence.
He’d been doing whatever he could to care for me.
Yet, something still halted me from taking that final step.
It felt inappropriate. Like crossing an invisible line because with no one around, this wasn’t performative, and any desire came with consequences.
We held each other's gaze, the spark electric and sharp.
Raising his hand, he brushed a thumb across my cheek, lightly cupping my jaw and I did everything not to tremble.
My wrist was still firmly locked in his other hand, the space between us almost non-existent now as he bridged the remaining gap.
“Evy,” the sound of my whispered name was hypnotic as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He released my wrist, his fingers trailing up my arm, before cupping my face in both hands.
My breathing increased as my eyes fluttered closed under his touch, the warmth of his body drawing me closer, begging me to melt into him.
Need throbbed beneath my skin, pulsing with its own heartbeat in a place I’d touched dreaming about a moment just like this.
Late at night when I’d once imagined what it would be like to be with him.
When I wondered what he would look like, feel like, be like in his most primal form and if he’d ever thought about me in the same way.
Was he tender and sweet, taking his time to savour, or was he wild and unencumbered, greedy to his lust and most innate desires.
I’d come apart to salacious thoughts of both versions.
Been his willing partner while he savaged and took, leaving me tender and sore in the most delicious of ways.
I’d pictured myself as his hidden secret, naked and pliable, ready to be toyed with and edged until I begged for release.
Always knowing, whichever form it took, it would be more than I ever could have conceived.
And afterwards, I would lay in the safety of his arms, entirely content and calm.
Thoughts of him in bed blurred my rationality and I reached for him, my fingers locking through his belt loops as I closed the distance between us.
A slow moan rumbled within him, the sound evoking a mewl of my own.
I wanted to grind against him ever so slightly.
With his eyes fixed on me, I was certain I looked equal parts terrified and horny, whereas he was all heat and hunger, hands still framing my face, preventing me from moving away.
Unravelling at the possibilities, I silently counted.
One.
If I got to four I would press up onto my toes.
Two.
I would yank his belt loops even closer and confirm if the firmness pressed against me was as hard as I knew it to be.
Three.
I would mould our bodies so tightly, that he could feel the heaviness of my aching breasts.
Fo-
A throat clearing from the doorway startled us apart, but his eyes never left mine.
“What?” He barked, the rising and falling of his chest a dead giveaway that things were most definitely getting heated in here.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Grant had the decency to sound apologetic, scared even, “but we really need you out here.”
“Give me a minute,” he gritted dismissively, still staring at me, although the moment between us was broken. The air of anticipation, dampened with a cold hard dose of reality.
Was I really just about to kiss Cooper? And at work!
He stared at me with an unreadable expression, brushing both thumbs across my cheeks before he withdrew, the temperature of the room cooling instantly.
“I’ll grab you some lunch,” he stated as I did my best not to stare at the obvious bulge in his pants.
I wished he would stay and continue whatever the hell that was just as much as I wished he would leave so I could take a damn breath, grab a sweat towel for my thirst patch and then replay the last five minutes.
“Okay,” I breathed, wondering how soft his mouth would have been. Wondering how I was going to concentrate now I knew the ways his pupils dilated when he was aroused.
If I’d reached four, I would have been on him before I could catalogue the reasons it was a terrible idea.
Before I could remind myself of all I had to lose or even consider that he may not want to cross that line either.
And now that he’d looked at me as if I was his lifeblood, held my face in his hands as though it were his favourite thing to look upon, the fantasies of my late nights were going to be much clearer.
Starting with a sharpened gaze, burning with unspoken want and mutual hunger and ending with flashbacks to the way his pants visibly tightened displaying his arousal.
I studied the broad outline of his back as he exited, paralysed by the unexpected lust of only a moment ago and when he turned around and our eyes locked for a final second, I wasn’t frozen from fear, but something deeper. Something I’d forgotten about until these old feelings were revived.
Back then, it was soft, harmless - a crush born from naive infatuation.
But now? It was laced with heat, heavy with desire and oozing with the thrill of the forbidden.
I didn’t know exactly when I’d become the kind of woman who secretly wanted her boss to sweep the papers she’d painstakingly organised off the desk and press her into it, the kind of woman who wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her while she sucked on his neck - but I had.
And honestly, I wouldn’t even pretend to be mad about it because I could think of nothing other than grinding up against him until I saw fireworks in the sky and his name spilled from my mouth.