Chapter 26 #2
With a small smile, she shakes her head and wanders out of the kitchen.
Half an hour later, she returns, her hair damp at the ends and her cheeks flushed the prettiest pink. Her animal-print pajama set is so very her. It delights me, really, that she’s comfortable enough to wear pajamas and just be herself with me.
I pull out one of the barstools, eager for her to dig in. I make sure she’s completely settled and has everything she might need before joining her.
I track her movements out of the corner of my eye as she takes her first bite. Silence ensues, and concern grips my insides.
“Is it okay? I tried to replicate the dish I made in Austin.”
She eyes me, offering me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s really good. Thank you.”
She takes another bite. Her expression remains blank as she chews and swallows.
After a few more seconds I can’t help but ask, “Are you sure it’s okay? I could make something else, or—”
She sets down her fork and swivels in her seat until she’s facing me. With her legs tangled with mine to keep the barstool locked in place, she tucks her damp hair behind both ears.
“Everything is delicious, and nothing is wrong. I’m just utterly exhausted.” She sighs. “I worked a full day today, then came home and immediately had to prep for my live. I’ve worked thirteen hours so far, and I’m not done yet.”
I grind my molars, equal parts angry and exasperated that she’s working so hard.
“I still need to organize orders and schedule the printers to run all night. I’m sorry I’m so quiet,” she murmurs. “I know I’m not good company like this. I’m honestly just drained.”
Pain lances through me.
She has nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who pushed her. I’m the one who failed to meet her where she is.
“Don’t ever apologize for being honest with me.” I hover closer, our noses brushing.
When her lips tip up in a smile, I kiss the tip of her nose. Then I sit back, nodding toward her food.
“Please eat. I won’t ask any more questions or make another peep tonight if that’s what you need.”
She side-eyes me, skepticism written all over her face, but eventually sits back and picks up her fork again.
Once we’re both done, I hop up to take care of the dishes and Evangeline gets to work but stays seated at the bar. Her brows knit together in concentration as she taps away at her laptop, then her phone.
Thankfully, she’s so focused she doesn’t notice me constantly stealing glances. I’m practically moving in slow motion, prolonging the night.
Her lips are still painted red, all her makeup intact from her live.
Every time she catches her lip between her teeth, memories of the elevator infiltrate my thoughts, testing my impulse control. I smudged her makeup once this week already. What I wouldn’t give to mess it up again now.
With her attention still focused on the screen before her, she mutters, “You know I can feel you watching me, right?”
Shit.
Nope. I didn’t realize I was being that obvious.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
She peeks up, a twinkle in her eye accompanied by the tiniest hint of a smirk. “Bother isn’t the right word.”
Excitement zips through me. I set down the pan I’ve been hand-drying for over a minute and stalk around the island.
With her focus fixed on me, she spins on her stool.
I position myself between her parted legs and place my palm on her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Despite the newness, every interaction with her is natural.
“What’s the right word then, angel?”
Lashes fluttering, she leans into my touch. “I don’t know. Maybe… distracting? Beguiling? Or tempting?”
“Tempting?” I inch closer.
Her entire existence is my greatest temptation. Being in her orbit forces me to live in a state of constant self-restraint.
“Dangerously tempting.” She draws out each word, slowly craning back, putting space between us.
Still trapped in her orbit, I sway forward, erasing the distance, hovering mere inches from her face. We’re so close now I can smell the sweet honey scent of her bath products.
Thumb and forefinger on her chin, I tip her face up until the two of us are sharing breath.
“There’s a famous quote about temptation,” I rasp. “I think it goes something like ‘The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.’”
Her eyes go wide. “That… is not very good advice.” She laughs, planting one hand on my chest and pushing me back slightly.
Begrudgingly, I take a step back.
“I never said it was good advice.” I shrug. “Oscar Wilde said it, I believe. Not exactly a beacon of wisdom.” With a shake of my head, I clear my thoughts, then take a second step away.
It’s getting late. Tomorrow is race day, and we both need sleep.
With my arms across my chest, I give the kitchen a once-over. Most everything is put away. I can’t prolong drying the same pan any longer.
Circling the counter, I say, “I’ll get these last few dishes put away, then I’ll get going.”
Her face falls, disappointment clear.
“Unless…” I say before I can think through the implications.
Her brows shoot into her hairline, her forehead crinkling in the most adorable way. “Unless?” she repeats, the word drenched in hopefulness.
I shouldn’t. We really can’t.
“Unless you want me to stay,” I force out before I think better of it.
Lips pressed together and shoulders rising toward her ears, she winces slightly. “I don’t want you to stay on my account.”
Ah. Okay.
I spread my arms wide and grip the edge of the counter. She needs me to be more direct. That’s not an issue. She deserves my candor.
“I don’t want to go,” I declare, ensuring she understands there’s nothing one-sided about this situation.
A smile blooms on her face. “So don’t.”
It’s an invitation. The ultimate temptation.
Tension sizzles between us as I weigh my next words carefully. Our predicament feels more intense than driver contract negotiations, honestly, but I’m determined to get this right.
“If I stayed…” I start, bracing her for the impending conditions.
She tilts her head, waiting.
I don’t reply immediately. I can’t. My mind is at war with itself, alarm bells blaring, warning me against what I’m yearning to do.
Tomorrow is race day. Staying the night with someone is a sharp departure from my typical prerace routine.
Though I’m not concerned about her presence affecting me in a negative way.
I’m more settled when I’m with Evangeline.
More in my body and less in my head. Focusing on her gives me an outlet for all the anxiety that fuels me regularly.
“If you stay?” she eventually repeats, encouraging me to continue.
“If I stay, nothing can happen. Not because I don’t want it to,” I rush to clarify. “But because this is complicated. You’re exhausted. Tomorrow is race day. Neither of us is in a position to make a levelheaded decision right now.”
Her expression drops, though it’s not a look of complete defeat.
She places one hand on the marble island, then slowly slides it across the counter until our fingertips touch. “It already feels like something is happening between us, Alaric.”
My heart thuds. She’s not wrong.
Even so, she’s exhausted, and I don’t want to take advantage of her when she’s potentially too tired to think through what could happen if I don’t retreat to my own room.
I pull my hand out from under hers, then brush over her knuckles and circle her wrist, gently urging her to show me her palm. Taking her hand in mine, I say, “I want to stay. But we’re just going to sleep.”
She slides off the barstool, rounds the island, and steps closer, head tilted, focus locked on me.
“Just sleep, huh? I’ve never had a platonic sleepover with a man before. We should have planned ahead and gotten matching pajamas.”
Fuck.
She’s teasing me, but when she puts it like that—
Shaking my head, I drop my arms to my sides and take a big step back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I shouldn’t have even entertained the idea.”
Evangeline moves in. “Wait,” she soothes, trapping me in a hug. “I shouldn’t have said that. I thought—” She trails off, then sighs. “We can just sleep. But I don’t want you to think platonic is all I’m interested in, ya know?”
Yes, I know. Excruciatingly well.
“Please stay,” she adds. “It’s nice to not be alone in my own head. That’s typically what happens after a long day, but it doesn’t happen when I’m with you.”
With an arm looped around her, I kiss the top of her head. “I want to stay.”
She plants her chin on my chest once more, searching my face with those wide, wonderful sparkling blue eyes. “I’d like that.”
“For the record, I’m not only interested in ‘just sleeping’ with you either. My mind is a firehose of ideas and fantasies when it comes to you. But for tonight, let’s stick to that.”
She bites down on her bottom lip and nods. “Just sleep,” she confirms, repeating the mantra we both know won’t hold much longer.