Chapter Twenty-six
Evan
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
She slid her hand into mine as we turned onto her street, and it was a relief to know I hadn’t blown it earlier tonight outside the bar when I’d jumped straight to my baseline mistrust. We’d promised each other not to default to assumptions, to talk it out, but I was hostage to my stupid amygdala or whatever caveman part of my brain hadn’t fully evolved, and I’d judged her without giving her a moment to prove me wrong.
Thank God she’d been patient, let me gain control of my emotions, so I could hear what she’d been telling me all along.
Story of our entire relationship.
Back at the bar, I’d watched her in a way I’d never been able to before.
We’d always been talking or walking or somehow engaged with each other, but tonight, I’d been a fly on the wall, observing her.
And she was remarkable. There was something in her wry smile, the funny looks she shot me, that made me feel a part of an inside joke, and more than anything, I wanted to be in on her secrets.
I wanted to share our most vulnerable selves with each other. I wanted to trust her.
“So that was Kate who called me earlier.”
“What did she want?” Based on her coy grin, I thought I could guess. “Did you get the promotion?”
The full dazzling smile broke out. “It’s not official yet, but wheels are in motion.”
“That’s excellent.” I didn’t doubt she’d get it, but since I’d played a small role, this was my win, too. “At least one of us landed their dream job.”
She twisted to meet my eyes. “Wait, isn’t this your dream job?”
I scoffed. “You know what that newsroom is like.”
“Yeah, but you already knew that. You were the one who warned me that it was stressful.”
“It’s just my job. I don’t really like it.”
“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “That seems rather important, don’t you think?”
“I’m overstating it. I love meteorology. I love the science side, and in theory, I love getting to share my knowledge with others.”
“In theory? Meaning what?”
“Meaning, when I imagine talking to one specific person, teaching”—I thought about Elizabeth asking me to explain the monitors—“I get excited, but when I’m in front of a camera, I can’t exactly see who I’m reaching. So I pretend.”
“So why don’t you get a job doing just the science part?”
I let out a long sigh. “I look sometimes, but I worry I’d feel like an impostor at a legit research job.”
She snorted. “You have no problem getting up in front of thousands of people and confidently predicting the forecast, but you’re afraid you’re not good enough to hang out with scientists?”
I shrugged. “When you put it like that. But what if I couldn’t hack it? I’ve got a pretty decent career. It’s just….” I struggled to find the word without sounding ungrateful. “Dream job adjacent, I guess.”
She held up a hand. “Okay, that I understand. And honestly, I also get the impostor syndrome. If we’re being honest, it’s one of the reasons I haven’t applied for an MFA at another school.”
“Well, you should. You’re bloody brilliant.”
“‘Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.’”
“What is that from?”
“The Two Gentlemen of Verona.”
“Wow. Proof you belong in school.”
She fished her keys out of her purse as we climbed the steps to her house. “It’s a parlor trick. I have soliloquies and sonnets cluttering my brain like normal people memorize song lyrics.”
I leaned against the door frame while she unlocked the door. “I’m fascinated by your brain.”
It was weird being back at Elizabeth’s—the erstwhile scene of the crime—knowing everything I knew now.
Like looking through a kaleidoscope. The childhood friend I’d imagined swirled with the reality of Elizabeth.
But I was finally ready to let go of resentment.
For whatever reason, trickery or not, this woman had sunk her teeth into me, and I was a grateful victim.
“Do you want something to drink,” she asked. “Water? Coffee? Wine?”
I shook my head, pushing against her, one hand settling on her shoulder, one on her hip, like we were preparing to dance.”Do you?”
“No.” She half-stepped back, letting me lead, as we moved together into the living room. “But I think I should jump in the shower. I’ve got bar funk in my hair. Do you mind?”
“I don’t mind, but in all fairness, I’ve just come from the station. I’ve got station funk in my hair.”
Her lip curled up on one side. “We should probably conserve water, don’t you think?”
I laughed, but Elizabeth didn’t. I leaned in, and she gasped as I sank my lips onto hers, like it was always the first time.
My hand slid around the back of her head, and she melted into me as I pulled her closer, kissed her more deeply, parting her lips with my tongue, arousing a desire I’d kept on a leash for so long.
“Elizabeth,” I whispered.
Her fingers dug into my shirt, and I wanted her. Nobody but her.
I felt up under her shirt, palms planing her abdomen, and the soft curve of her belly electrified me.
She didn’t feel like a stranger to me. We’d been here before.
We’d done this, but despite the familiarity, there was an overlying novelty, because this time, I wasn’t confusing her with anyone else.
She sighed, and just knowing I could make her feel good turned me on even more. “I want you,” I said, not meaning to speak the words.
I pressed into her so I could kiss her with the raw urgency I’d somehow only ever felt with her. When I dragged my mouth along her jaw to her neck, grazing her with my teeth, she clutched my hair and groaned.
“Take this off,” I commanded, and she immediately complied, unbuttoning her shirt, her bra a sinful barrier barely concealing her nipples.
“You, too,” she rasped, tugging at my collar.
I shucked my shoes and peeled off my jacket and button-up shirt, dropping them to the floor, returning to press my lips on her temple. “You smell so delicious.”
She lifted my hand to her lips and kissed the tips of my fingers, smiling into my skin as goose flesh crept up the inside of my arm. With a tug, she bade me to follow her into her bedroom.
In the doorway, she paused, a shadow crossing her face. “Is this moving too fast?”
It reminded me of that first night, splitting these two moments across a divide. We had moved too fast that night. I hadn’t understood at the time just how fast. But tonight, she didn’t need to coax me.
“Tell me you want me,” I said.
She grinned. “I really want you.”
That wasn’t the question I’d wanted to ask. I lowered my guard, opened myself up to ridicule. “Tell me you like me.”
She fisted my undershirt and stood on her toes to kiss me. “I really like you, Evan.”
The insecure baby in me wanted to stop and ask her why, but I was going to have to take a leap of faith, so I said, “Good, because I really like you, too.”
That tiny admission hid the depth of my feeling. I was obsessed with her.
Without another hesitation, my hands were on her, turning her, leading her toward her bathroom. She retrieved a pair of towels from the closet, then reached in and turned on the spray. “I hope you like it hot.”
“Very.” I gripped her hips and bent to kiss her again.
Her hands delved beneath my undershirt, using her forearms to force the fabric up higher, over my head, then she ran her tongue across my chest. I moaned at the sensory overload. When her mouth found mine again, I lost myself in the perfect storm of want and need.
I needed to get her out of this bra. I worked the hooks, and before the straps had fallen from her shoulders, my mouth found her breasts, and I tongued those perfect nipples.
“Talk dirty to me,” she said.
I was so caught up in the moment, I’d say anything. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream my name,” I sounded as wrecked as her.
She whispered into my ear, “I’m going to take your belt off, unzip your pants, and wrap my hand around your cock.”
“Oh, God.” My whole body stiffened. Okay, so that was dirty talk.
She met my eyes. “Do you want me to?”
I didn’t need her to check in with me, but the question alone doused any remaining doubts. “So bad.”
As promised, she unbuckled me and worked the button and zipper on my pants. Her hand plunged into my boxers, and my head fell back at the sheer bliss of her stroking me. “Oh, God, Elizabeth.”
She nipped at my neck, running her thumb over the most sensitive place on my cock, and then, to my surprise, she dropped onto her knees and yanked my pants to my ankles.
“You’re driving me insane.” My stiff cock proved the truth in that statement. If she only knew how incredibly rare it was for me to trust anyone this much.
In response, she said, “And now I’m going to suck your dick,” so matter of fact, I almost laughed.
But before I’d even cracked a smile she ran her tongue up the length of me and buried me in her mouth.
My eyes rolled back for a heartbeat, but I needed to see her, I wanted to seer the image of her sucking me into my brain.
It was too much, too much ecstasy, too much depravity, too much intimacy.
If she kept on, I was going to come on the spot, and I didn’t want that to happen, yet.
“Come here.”
She stood, and I unfastened her pants and tugged them over her hips, leering as she wiggled out of them the rest of the way.
“Fuck me, you’re sexy.”
“Look who’s talking, sexy Weatherman.”
I loved that she made me laugh even in the middle of such a vulnerable moment. I gave her a goofy grin and disco-tumbled my hands like I stood in front of a green screen. “We can expect a scorching hot—”
My last word was lost, as she pulled into the shower.
I should have remembered I looked like a drowned river otter when my hair got wet. Showers weren’t a sexy look for me. Nonetheless, her smile dropped, and she gave me a serious eye fuck.