When his fingers parted the lips of her pussy, her hips rose off the bed. He slipped a finger inside her, and she groaned, her hands clutching at his hair as he continued working over her breasts with his mouth. Jesus Christ, she was wet. His cock twitched as she arched and writhed against him. He drew lazy circles with his finger around her clit, dipping inside her to gather more of her wetness and spread it all around.
He began to move his way down her torso, kissing and rubbing his face against her as he went, intent on tasting her again. It had been so long, and he was dying to have her come on his face.
But her fingers tightened in his hair, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Later. I want you inside me now. I don’t want to wait.”
He tsked. “So impatient.”
Grinning at his use of her words from earlier, she nodded. “Very impatient.”
He loved her sass. She was perfect for him. Stretching over her, he grabbed a condom from the nightstand, rolled it on, and positioned himself at her entrance.
She moved her hips, trying to impale herself on him, but he held himself just out of reach. “Evan, please.” From anyone else, it would’ve been a whine, a whimper, a plea. From Layla, it was a command.
And he was happy to follow her orders. Braced with his hands on either side of her head, he slid inside her, just an inch or so. Christ, she was tight.
She gasped, lifting her hips, forcing him in farther. But he pulled back, sinking in another inch on his next stroke, burying himself completely on the one after that. He held himself still, wanting to last, to make her feel as amazing as she made him feel. Lowering himself to his forearms, he kissed her, making love to her mouth.
Her response was to clutch his hair to drag him closer and wrap her legs around his waist. Demanding little thing.
He started off slow, painfully slow, knowing he’d never last long enough for her if he went hard and fast from the beginning, wanting to make it good—no, fantastic—for her. She met each thrust, her hips slamming into his, grinding with him when they met.
With a quick roll, he moved her on top. “You set the pace, darlin’. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
He kept his hands on her hips, loving the way she moved and rolled on top of him, her hands braced on his chest, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her hair cascaded down her back, almost long enough to brush his thighs when she threw her head back. It fell in a curtain around them both when she leaned forward, moving up and down on him.
She started making those sexy sounds, the breathless gasps, and the little chant of, “Oh, oh, oh, ah,” she always did when she was getting close. Thank Christ. Because he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.
Licking his thumb, he slipped it between them, rubbing over her clit, giving her the extra friction she needed to tip over the edge. Seconds later, she started to twitch and shudder, her movements slowing with her orgasm. Evan took over. With his hands on her hips, he moved her over his cock. His hips rose to meet hers, driving into her with unrestrained passion. Her pussy clenching around him sent him into a frenzy.
She went limp after she rode out her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her as he spent himself inside her, his chest heaving with exertion. After a moment, she tried to slide off him, but he held her in place. Without a word between them, she acquiesced, relaxing on top of him again, their bodies still joined.
Stroking a hand down her back, he breathed her in, the citrusy smell of her hair, the slick slide of her skin on his. Something inside him shifted, something that had been off since the night of the party, clicking back into place, and he let out a sigh of contentment.
When Evan finally let her go, Layla curled up under the blankets in Evan’s bed, snuggling into his pillow, his clean smell trapped in the fabric. She’d been a little worried at first that they were moving too fast. They went from apologies to groping each other in the courtyard in a matter of seconds, it seemed like.
But the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel, she couldn’t turn that down again if he was offering. And he was definitely offering.
The last two weeks without him had been hell. The pain of his betrayal—thank God she’d been wrong about that—and the physical ache of his absence had been almost unbearable. Now she only felt terrible that she hadn’t let him explain, had ignored and rebuffed all his attempts to talk to her.
He came back to his room after disposing of the condom, a smile on his beautiful face. She smiled back, enjoying the play of his muscles under his skin as he bent over to lift the blankets and slide into bed with her. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close and tangled his legs with hers.
This simple intimacy had her sighing and closing her eyes.
He squeezed her ass with one hand, making her open her eyes again. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She lifted her head to look at him better. “I was just thinking about how much time we wasted. And how it’s all my fault. I should’ve talked to you before tonight. I’m really sorry.”
With one hand behind her head, he pulled her in for a kiss. “I wish you would’ve listened to me sooner too.” His mouth pulled into a crooked smile. “But then I wouldn’t’ve been able to read my kickass poem in front of everyone tonight.”
She laughed, giving him a light smack on his chest, that turned into a caress. His pec flexed under her palm, and he gave her a sexy grin. “I’m sure you could’ve still read a kickass poem anyway. But that was pretty amazing. I had no idea you could write like that.”
His face turned serious, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I just wrote what I felt. I didn’t care about impressing anyone but you. That was my only goal.”
“Well, you did. It was beautiful.”
“So was yours. Heart-wrenching. But beautiful.”
She dropped her gaze, still feeling self-conscious that he’d heard her poem. “I didn’t want to do that one.”
“Why not?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “It was so raw and powerful. Everyone loved it. I think they clapped louder for you than anyone else.”
“Really?” Her eyes met his again, looking for any sign of exaggeration.
But his blue eyes were dark and sincere. “Really. You didn’t notice?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. I saw you come in, and I begged Dr. Moore to let me perform one of my other poems. He wouldn’t let me.” She swallowed, her mouth dry as the anxiety from earlier flooded through her again. “I didn’t want to perform it anyway, but especially not in front of you. I knew you’d know what it was about.”
Both arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest, and he fitted her head under his chin. His voice rumbled into her ear as he spoke. “Hey. No. Never be afraid to reveal how you feel to me. I will always be a safe place for you.”
She nodded against him, too overcome by his words to articulate her own. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But now I really want to read the rest of your poems. You were always too shy to show them to me before.”
Stiffening, she started to pull away, but his arms tightened around her. “I don’t mean right now. When you’re ready.”
With another nod, she relaxed against him. They stayed in his bed, enjoying each other until they were both so strung out on pleasure that they could barely move. But her rumbling stomach got them up and dressed, and Evan sent a message to his roommate that they should all meet for dinner at a little twenty-four-hour diner not far from their apartment.
Sliding back into Evan’s car made Layla feel like she was sliding back into his life. For good.
EPILOGUE
“You should come with me.” Evan’s voice rumbled in Layla’s ear.
She had her back pressed to Evan’s chest, his arm across her middle, cuddling post-sex and pre-sleep. She hadn’t expected him to talk more tonight. He was tired from class all day and working on a construction job in the evening. For her part, s
he was temping at a new office, so she’d felt frazzled and overwhelmed by the time she got home. They’d had a simple dinner together in her apartment when he got there, then climbed into bed together.
“To Wenatchee,” Evan clarified. “You should come with me.”
Layla turned over to face him, his features barely discernible in the light from the street lamps that seeped through the curtains. “Like to visit?”
He shook his head. “No. You should move there with me. I won’t be able to take the GRE until October, so I’ll need to work before I can apply to graduate programs. My parents said they have a house they’re working on that I can live in for a while. It needs some fixing up still, but it’s not in bad shape. I’d help with that while we live there, and work for my parents flipping houses to save money for school.” He propped himself up on his elbow, his body radiating belief and excitement about the plans he was spinning in front of her. “You could take the GRE too, and we could apply to grad schools together. You could get your Master’s of Library Science or go for an MFA in Creative Writing.”
The grad school thing was a fairly recent decision for him. Dr. Rankin had pulled him aside one day after World Lit and asked about his plans after graduation. He still had to get through the rest of his summer classes, but he’d be graduating cum laude in August. Dr. Rankin had suggested he consider graduate school and a career in academia. “You relate well to the subject matter and have a knack for commanding a class’s attention,” she’d said. Evan had left the conversation a little stunned, but the more he’d thought about it, the more he liked the idea, which led them to now.
Layla looked at him, at his sincere face, not even needing the lights on to tell how much he wanted this. “But …”
“Don’t say no. At least say you’ll think about it.”
“Well, okay, I guess, but …”
Sliding his fingers through hers, he gave a squeeze. “I love you, Layla. I know we haven’t been saying that to each other for long, but it’s true. I love you so much. I don’t want to be apart from you. I know your plan has been to get a job and keep writing. You can do that anywhere. You can temp or find something more permanent or just let me support us. I don’t care. As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we end up.”
She squeezed his fingers back and kissed him. “Okay.”
His mouth dropped open, then he sat up all the way and turned on the lamp beside her bed. He went back to his lounging position, with one elbow holding him up so their faces were close together, and his blue eyes studied hers, bright with hope. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She grinned. “I love you too, and I think your plan sounds good. I wasn’t objecting. You just caught me by surprise, and I needed a minute to process. But I agree. I don’t want to be apart either. I’m just temping, so it’s not like I can’t quit. If your parents have a place for us to live and a job for you lined up, it’d be stupid to turn that down.” She paused for a second, biting her lip, her eyes focusing on where their fingers overlapped. “You don’t think your parents will mind me living there with you?”
“Are you kidding?” His free hand tilted her chin up so she would look at him again. “They love you. You impressed them when they came for your graduation. And even though I told them it was Dr. Rankin’s idea for me to go to grad school, they give you all the credit for making me take life more seriously. They’d be upset if you didn’t come with me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
After one more kiss, Evan turned the lamp off and they lay back down. Layla curled into Evan’s side, with his arm wrapped around her, her arm resting on his torso. She lay awake for a while after his breathing had evened out, watching him sleep.
They were going to move in together. In like two months. The details still needed working out, but their future seemed to be laying itself out before them. Talking about books and writing and laughing. He loved her. And she loved him. Nothing would ever make her doubt that fact again.
They would be together. Forever.
A VERY MARYCLIFF CHRISTMAS
CHAPTER ONE
Abby
The expected knock on the front door brings an irrepressible smile to my face. I’ve been looking forward to today for weeks. Megan is finally here, and I rush to the door to let her in.
True to form, she makes a dramatic entrance, grunting with effort as she dumps all her stuff in a pile just inside the door. “Guh. I’m not used to lugging all my own shit everywhere anymore.” Then she turns a wide smile on me and holds out her arms.
Laughing, I give her a tight hug, happy to see her for the first time in months. While Seattle isn’t really that far away, we’re all so busy that we rarely make the five hour trek across the state. I wasn’t expecting to see her at all this winter—because who wants to drive over the passes for no real reason when the weather’s bad?—but then the university announced Coach Hanson’s retirement and word got around about the party the first weekend in December.
As soon as I heard in October, I was on the phone with Megan to start making plans. I knew there was no way Chris wouldn’t want to come. Coach Hanson is a big part of the reason Chris managed to graduate and worked his ass off to get into the NFL.
Chris and Megan aren’t the only ones coming, either. Our whole friend group from college is making the trek—those of us who aren’t still in town, anyway. Megan’s actually here a few days early, so we can hang out. Chris can’t get away until the day before the party. He suffered a shoulder injury earlier in the season and has to finish his weekly rehab sessions with the team trainers in Seattle.
“It’s good to see you in person for the first time in ages,” I tell her, stepping back and reaching for the pillow she dropped on the floor. “We even have a guest bedroom now, so you won’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“Yippee. Look at us moving up in the world.” She laughs and reaches for her suitcase, following me down the hall to the second bedroom. Lance and I moved over the summer out of our one bedroom and into a larger place. I get the second bedroom as an office, since I work from home, but he insisted that we get a bed in there too so that if our friends or one of his sisters or parents ever decide to visit, they can stay here if they want to.
The odds of his parents or his youngest sister visiting are pretty low. His dad’s running his garage pretty much singlehandedly now that Marissa is off on her own adventure, and Gabby’s tour schedule and notoriety mean that they spring for a hotel when they’re in the area, otherwise we’d run the risk of paparazzi hanging out on our doorstep.
While it’s technically possible that Marissa could come visit, she’s busy getting herself set up in California, so I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.
“You’re actually our first guest to stay here,” I tell Megan as I place her pillow on the bed.
She parks her rolling suitcase at the foot of the bed and surveys the room, taking in my desk and the framed prints of her paintings—the originals sold for thousands at her show last year—hanging on the walls before she turns to the bed. It’s nothing too fancy, just a decent mattress on a basic frame, with a fluffy sage green comforter and chocolate brown accent pillows. I wanted red or purple or something more bold, but Lance insisted it needed to be neutral so anyone would feel comfortable. Pffft. Boring is more like it, but I have to admit, it’s a soothing palette, even if I would’ve liked something different.
“Nice,” Megan says at last. “Sticking with the green blanket theme, I see.” She cracks a grin, and I laugh too. When we were roommates, she always stole my fuzzy green blanket. I eventually gave it to her when I moved in with Lance. She loved that thing more than I did.
“Of course.” I give her a cheeky grin. “Since I knew you’d end up staying here eventually, green was the only option.”
She cackles and flops down on the bed. “Naturally. This one is almost as good as the original, I have to say. Less fuzzy, more squishy. I approve.”
“Good. I w
as dying for your approval, you know,” I deadpan. “I lost sleep wondering if you’d like it or not.”
Smile still on her face, she raises one hand and shows me her middle finger, and we both burst out laughing.
“Do you still have my old blanket?” I ask.
She gives me a look like I must be crazy. “Of course. That’s the best blanket ever made. And my bestie gave it to me. I’m not going to just toss it because I move to Seattle. What kind of monster do you take me for?”
With another laugh, I hold up my hands in surrender. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply you’re a heartless monster. Just curious.”
“Well, lay your curiosity to rest. Your old blanket is safe and sound, and I still use it almost every day. It’s my couch blanket.” Rolling onto her side, she snuggles into the pillows and lets out a tired sigh. “I’m wiped out.”
I frown. Megan’s usually very high energy. “You feeling alright?”
She lifts a hand and waves it around. “Fine, fine. I just woke up early and it was a long drive all by myself.”
“Coffee?” I offer. “Lance will be on his way home from work soon, I can have him stop somewhere and pick up a fancy coffee if you don’t want boring made-at-home coffee.”
“Nah,” she says. “I’m trying to cut back on my caffeine intake.”
That provokes another funny look from me. Megan cutting back on caffeine? Next she’s going to tell me she’s given up drinking.
But I don’t say anything because she pushes herself up to sitting and climbs to her feet. “I need a snack,” she announces. “I’ve been craving cheese and crackers lately. Do you have any? Or should we make Lance hit a store on his way home?”
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