At least that's how I was before Raphael...
Annaleigh brushes her dark bangs out of her eyes. "Sheesh. Since when are you so picky, Evangeline? You've always been a commitment-phobe but you've never been shy about choosing a bed buddy."
I level her with a look. "Wow! Way to call me a 'ho, Annie!"
She shoos me off with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, you know what I mean!"
To be fair, I do know what she means. I'm the one who always used to tell her, "We're 22! We should be having all the sex we can handle." I still believe in that philosophy, except that now I only want to be having that sex with one man.
"Wait, are you already seeing somebody?" Blakely eyes me closely.
I chuff. "Like who?" I hope that she can't read me. I bring my huge cocktail glass to my lips to hide my expression.
"I don't know, " she shrugs then takes a sip of her own drink.
"Like Mr. Silver," Annaleigh snorts, shoving a chip into her face. When I don't join in her tittering, she freezes and her eyes go wide. She leans forward and whisper-yells, "Like Mr. Silver?"
And now Blakely is gawking at me, too. God I don't have it in me to lie to these nosy bitches.
"Evangeline Brooks!" Annaleigh scolds, disapproval written all over her face.
Blakely looks shocked, plain and simple. “Am I missing something?”
Annaleigh and I share a knowing look but neither of us say a word.
At our silence, Blakely’s eyes widen further. "He's your dad's age," she informs me. As if I hadn't noticed.
I give Annaleigh a threatening look. "Don't you breathe a word of this to my brother!" Prescott would kill me while my father kills Raph.
Just like that – double homicide.
Annaleigh holds a hand in front of her like a shield. "I'm not touching that mess, not even with a ten-foot pole. This conversation never happened." She's quiet for a second and then she blurts out, "but come on, Eva! Your father's best friend?"
Blakely looks absolutely fascinated by the scenario. "Can you blame her, though? The man has ‘daddy fetish’ written all over him!"
"Thanks for the visual, Blakes," Annaleigh jeers, sounding annoyed.
Clearly drunk, Blakely takes yet another gulp of her drink. “He must be so good in bed…” she muses quietly.
He is indeed, Blakes. The memories tumble through my brain one after the other. Different positions and locations, but always the perfect angle, the perfect speed, the perfect depth. The man is skilled at manipulating my body. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep my whimpers inside.
“Wait – you slept with him?!” Annaleigh spits out.
Dreamy-eyed Blakely just ignores her. “He’s all big and muscular and experienced. God – I’m turning this into a romance novel in my head right now. Taken by my Father’s Golf Buddy.”
Annaleigh’s piercing contempt stays focused on me, “If you tell me that you call that man ‘daddy’, I swear to god, I’m gonna be sick…”
Blakely waves her off dismissively. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Eva. There are worse fates in life than being eaten out around the clock by a rich, dirty silver fox who looks like Raphael Silver.” She titters mischievously.
I shoot them each a nasty look in turn. "It's not like that, you guys. It's not some kinky fetish," I grumble defensively. "I – I care about him." That last bit was difficult for me to admit but it's true. This thing with Raph isn't just about sex. It never was.
For the short time that we spent together after the auction, he made me feel valuable and rare like a precious metal. He built up my confidence in the places where it was shaky. He helped me see myself as more than just a pretty face. Raph made me believe in myself…And then, he walked away.
Annaleigh watches me with a hiked brow. "So you want to be with him? In a relationship?" She sounds sceptical. My best friend knows that I’ve never been the relationship type.
I push a loaded sigh. "Doesn’t matter what I want. It's over now. He doesn't want..." My words trail off as my voice gets caught in my chest. I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
Jeez. This so isn't like me. I'm not the kind of girl who breaks down over a guy. At a bar, no less.
My friends look bewildered. They don’t know this side of me. They see me as wild, confident, outgoing, free spirited. That’s the façade I’ve shown the world for all of my life. The truth is, I've always felt so out of control, like a bush blowing in the wind. Once you get used to being a disappointment in your parents' eyes, you stop measuring each of your decisions in terms of how they will react. You start just doing your own thing.
But my time with Raphael has changed me. Profoundly. He grounds me, he makes me feel safe. Like I can trust him.
Like I can trust myself.
"Hey hey hey! Don't you dare cry," Annaleigh warns. "It's not that kind of party." The two of them scoot closer, wrapping me up in a bear hug.
I laugh. They squeeze me so tight I can barely find my hand to wipe away my tears. I collapse into the embrace. It really feels like they’re holding me together.
Blakely grabs me by the arm. "Come on! Let's dance it off!" I look at her with wide eyes.
Seriously, where is the old shy Blakely? And who is this confident new woman so full of great ideas?
I let my friends lead me to the dance floor and we start grooving, completely giving in to the catchy pop beat pulsing throughout the room. Before long, we're laughing and playing around, lost in the music. Raphael is just a dull ache at the back of my mind.
Until three songs later when I feel a strong arm wrap around my middle, pressing me into a hot, firm body. The familiar scent of warmth and musk fills my lungs causing me to tingle all over. I don't have to look back. The expressions on my friends' faces and the throbbing in my blood tell me exactly who it is.
His lips flit the shell of my ear. "Eva, come with me."
Chapter 22
Raphael
When I arrive at the Opal Lounge, I’m immediately seated in the cordoned-off VIP section. There’s no one else here in this area of the establishment.
I’m actually relieved that Bob cancelled on me at the last minute because of some unexpected emergency in his department. I’m in no state to talk and laugh over drinks with my best friend. Not when I’m so conflicted over my feelings for his daughter. I need to put some distance between us, delay my meeting with him.
The server returns promptly with a bottle of aged scotch and pours me a measure into a highball glass. I thank her with a grunt and take a swallow of the drink.
I have a headache. A bad one.
There’s a fucking psychotic asshole who’s out there threatening Eva. Then there’s also the fact that I’m falling for the girl. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to take care of her. That’s it. The moment I put my hands on her, tasted her lips, everything changed. She turned me inside out with one brush of her mouth against mine and now everything’s a mess. But I wouldn’t take it back if I could because the girl makes me feel alive.
There’s a lull in the music and I hear this laugh…warm, rich and feminine, it penetrates all the way to my bones, stirring my marrow to life. Immediately, I know it’s her.
What is she doing here? She should be at home. With her family. Where it’s safe. She can’t be out at fucking nightclubs when there’s some crazy person on the loose who wants to hurt her.
I bolt up to my feet and edge to the banister. I peer down at the sparse crowd below. My eyes fall on a group of three girls dancing wildly in the middle of the dance floor. It’s her legs that catch my attention first, long and pale and toned in dangerously high stilettos. She’s in a tiny little excuse for a dress. Tight all over and dipping low in all the right places. As angry as I am that she’s here, I can’t stop my cock from reacting to the sight of her. My stubborn, fucking beautiful Evangeline.
I stomp down the stairs and across the dance floor, attracting curious glances from the people I bump into. I don't care. All I care about is Eva an
d the sense of urgency scalding my stomach. I need to get her out of here.
Coming up behind her, I grab her around the waist and she falls back into my chest. God, she feels good against me. Holding her feels so right. I ignore the immediate tightening in my balls and stay focused on the situation at hand.
I lower my mouth to her ear. "Eva," I growl, "come with me."
Chapter 23
Evangeline
Raphael’s expression is tight and unflinching as he sinks onto the velvet bench. I stand in front of him, arms folded across my chest. “Why did you drag me over here?” I snarl, glaring down at him.
“Eva, sit.” His voice is controlled and level, barely rising above the sound of the music. I can see that he’s trying his best to restrain the emotions rioting inside of him.
I don’t care.
Raphael Silver broke my heart. He tossed it away when he knew good and well how deeply I feel for him. So right now, I don’t care about his foul mood.
“I was actually in the middle of an enjoyable night out with my friends and you just waltzed in and interrupted –”
“Eva, sit. Please.”
“You don’t get to boss me around and tell me what to do –”
“Evangeline. Sit. Down.”
He looks at me with those stormy eyes, speaking in that tone that causes something to rumble low in my stomach. I want to defy him, just for the fuck of it, just to show him that I won’t let him walk all over me. But that tone has my body feeling very compliant.
“Well, I guess I am still your property,” I growl under my breath as I sink onto the far end of the bench.
He glances around to make sure no one heard my snarky jab. We’re the only people up here in the VIP lounge. Our conversation is safe.
When his focus returns to me, his eyes soften. “Kitten, it’s not like that and you know it.”
Why did he have to go and call me that? He’s poking at my biggest weakness, he’s taunting me with the thing I crave most – his affection, his adoration. “Get to the point,” I say, my heart aching, “my friends are waiting.”
“You shouldn’t be here. I told you to lay low until I’ve dealt with that low-life who’s threatening you.” The worry lines on his forehead come through as he speaks. Somewhere inside of me, I feel warm and fuzzy over the fact that he cares. Although he’s trying to push me away, he cares about me.
And he’s overreacting.
“I’m in Reyfield, Raphael. This is as low as a person can lay without being in the witness protection.”
“Don’t be difficult, Eva.” There’s a sternness in his voice that nearly overshadows his concern. I get such a rush when he gets all bossy and protective. A very big part of me loves it when he tries to control me. I love fighting back. And by god, I love giving in to him.
“Do you even care if something bad happens to me?” I ask testily.
His gaze darkens as he leans over the table, his eyes sharp and focused directly on mine. “I would fucking lose my mind if anything happened to you, girl. Don’t you ever doubt that.”
The way he says it – the fire in his eyes, the gravel in his voice – I know he’s telling the truth…and it breaks my heart even further.
I slump back in my seat. “So, why can’t we just be together?”
I know he thinks that I’m oversimplifying things when I make it sound so easy but it is. We’re adults. We care about each other. Nothing else should stand in our way.
He leans back too and snatches his drink off of the table. “You know why.”
“But I want you…” I know I sound like a child but I can’t help it. My heart is breaking. I wish we were still on that tropical island where nobody knows him, nobody knows me. Where we could just be ‘us’.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s about right and wrong. And you and me are ‘wrong’.” I hear the bitter edge in his voice. He resents this situation. He resents the fact that we’re not together as much as I do. The only difference is I’m willing to say ‘fuck it!’ to all of those reasons and he isn’t.
My frustration reaches a boiling point. “Why? What makes us so wrong, Raphael?” I explode. “I see the way you look at me. You care about me. As more than your best friend’s daughter. You want me, as a woman, your woman. And you would give that up all in the name of upholding some ludicrous ‘guy code’, some misplaced loyalty? Are you kidding me right now? You care that much about what my father thinks?” Angry tears blur my vision. “Every single night my father goes to sleep with the love of his life right beside him. And you? You go to sleep alone!”
He recoils visibly and pain mars his sculpted features as if I just slapped him across the face. I hate hurting him but I’m only speaking the truth.
My voice softens. “Raphael, your happiness matters. What you want, what I want is the only thing that matters.”
He growls roughly and the thread of self-control that was holding his emotions in check snaps. “Come here, you stubborn little brat!”
His arm snakes around my waist and he drags me across the bench, pressing me up against him. I gasp in shock as his hand clasps roughly around my jaw and his warm lips engulf mine in a brutal kiss.
All thought empties out of my mind and all I can focus on is devouring every inch of him, touching every inch of him, stealing as much of him as I can. Because yes, his lips are on me now but his track record shows that he could do a complete 180 in sixty seconds flat.
My hand circles the back of his head and my fingers knot in his hair. He pulls me even tighter to him and I can hardly breathe.
But breathing is irrelevant when he’s kissing me.
His fingers trail across my waist and down my thigh until they find the hem of my short dress. I groan into his mouth as he parts my legs, coaxing me to spread wide open for him.
He pulls back for air. Examining my face with lust and wonder, his voice rumbles in his throat. “What does it do to you? Knowing how much I want you, even though I shouldn’t?”
Panting softly, I hold his gaze and whisper, “It makes me wet…”
He groans roughly and then his mouth is on mine again. His fingers skim the oversensitive flesh of my thighs before traveling down my mound and when his touch hits my clit, I can’t tamp down the moan that comes out of my mouth.
Raphael pulls back to watch me, the club’s purple strobe lights illuminating the lust on his face. “Kitten, where are your panties?” he rasps.
I’m surprised that I can even form a response in my state of hyperarousal. “Didn’t wear any,” I choke out.
He hisses as he shoves inside of me and his fingers drown in my wetness. “You’re going to kill me, Eva. I won’t survive you.”
His thumb presses on my clit as two fingers piston into me, stirring me to life from the inside out. I bite down on his bottom lip, working my hips against his hand. Our tongues tangle with each other, deepening our connection. I've never wanted to be this close to another person. I've never craved the possibility to get lost inside someone else. But this passion between us is so big, so strong I just want it to swallow me up.
"I want to eat your pussy so bad," he grits out between his teeth. "I want to fuck you so bad."
"I want that," I breathe out, my head feeling light, my body growing taut.
The sharpest pleasure twists inside of me, threatening to tear me apart. He makes a noise deep in his throat. "But first, I want to make you come."
His fingers curve deep inside of me, stroking a sensitive spot far within. I pull him close, pressing my lips to his to suppress my scream. My pussy clenches and releases in rapid succession as pleasure fires wildly through my blood.
Wordless, boneless, I collapse against Raphael's chest, abandoning my body and what's left of my heart to him.
Chapter 24
Raphael
Eva's warm body clings to mine when my eyes blink open the next morning. Her head is on my shoulder, her arm across my chest, her legs t
wisted with mine. Her lips are parted and her face is smushed to the pillow in the most adorable way.
Only Eva could make that facial expression look cute.
Grinning like an idiot, I try to ease myself from under her without waking her up. No luck. She stirs and her big blue-green eyes blink up at me, bright and disoriented.
"Morning," I say, dropping a peck to the bridge of her nose.
Dirty Silver (The Dirty Suburbs Book 7) Page 11