Gathered Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “They are not a sweater,” he said with far more gravity than necessary. “But I confess to having shared the pattern on my blog last night. I call it ‘Barista Blues.’”

  “You blogged about me?” Oh Ev, you marvelous bundle of contradictions.

  “I blogged about socks.” Ev looked away, cheeks turning pink.

  “Evren, you should show him the blog,” Mira urged. “My Evren is one of the most popular knitting bloggers. His fans all love the new pattern—”

  “Who would like to help me bring out the cake?” he asked the kids, effectively ending the discussion of his blog. That was fine. I might not have Renee or Jonah’s computer skills, but I could work some Google-fu on his name later. And I planned to tease the heck out of him about his fans, too.

  “I want to help!” Jonah said.

  “Most certainly,” Ev said, smiling at him. Silly guy. I could have predicted what happened next.

  “No, me!” Morgan made the sound of the mortally wounded.

  “No fair!” Madison tried to beat the other two around the table.

  All three chased after Ev into the kitchen.

  “I am so happy you and Evren are friends,” Mira said, shifting in her chair. She had barely eaten dinner, managing a bit of bread and a bit of yogurt sauce and a tiny dab of the warm hummuslike dish. “He needs someone like you in his life.”

  Someone with three kids and more baggage than PDX could hold? I didn’t think so, but I smiled politely. “He’s a great guy.”

  “And so are you.” She smiled expectantly at me, and I didn’t know what she wanted me to say. Did she want me to declare feelings for Ev that I wasn’t certain he returned? A future commitment? A whatever didn’t exactly bode well for the longevity of our friendship. I fingered the soft, fine yarn of the socks. Surely the care in them reflected something of Ev’s feelings right?

  Luckily, I was saved from answering Mira by the return of the kids and Ev. He was hovering over Jonas and Morgan, who were balancing the cake platter between them.

  “Hey, why does Jonas get to hold more?” Madison bumped Morgan, who jostled the platter.

  “Watch out!” Ev called as the platter tipped precariously. Next thing I knew, I was wearing the cake—icing in my hair, cake down my shirt, in my lap, and the rest landing on the pretty sky-blue tablecloth.

  “Ugh.” I groaned.

  “Oops.” Madison’s eyes went wider than the now empty cake plate.

  “Does this mean no dessert?” Jonas sounded close to tears.

  “I have some cookies. And a towel,” Ev said, way more pragmatically than I could have. I was surprised he didn’t get mad or scold the kids for not listening to him. Lord knew, I was still taking deep breaths and counting to fifty before I spoke.

  “I need a shower,” I said, finally finding my voice and an even tone as Ev handed me a faded towel to brush off the crumbs. Getting the worst of the cake mess off, though, did nothing about all the frosting in my hair.

  “You already had one. A crumb shower.” Ev laughed, and once he started laughing, we all joined in. It was pretty hilarious once you got over the whole no-cake-to-eat thing.

  “Chocolate-covered Brady,” Jonas said and set us all off laughing anew.

  “Evren, you will take young Brady and the children home,” Mira said, coughing between weak laughs. “And take your time, aşkim. Stay and help your friend out.”

  “You will be okay, Hala?” Ev asked.

  “I plan to take my medications, put on my show, and doze until tomorrow. I will be fine. You will see your friend home.”

  “All right.” Ev nodded, then gave me a smile that started both of us laughing again. It was a good, cleansing laugh, a balm against the awkwardness of Renee’s leaving in a huff, a buffer against the realities of Mira’s illness. Our eyes met and the laughter shifted to something hotter, the latent heat between us rising again. I gave him a sly smile as I started scheming how I could get my lips on him again. Screw cake—it was Ev I’d been craving all along.

  Chapter 10

  As a new knitter, it is easy to fall into certain comfort zones as you become proficient at a certain type of project, neat piles of scarves or hats or socks waiting to be blocked and gifted. And this is lovely, but, friends, you must occasionally push past your comfort zone. Try a new yarn, a new colorway, a new technique or stitch pattern. Pushing yourself carries its own sense of satisfaction and reward.—Evren’s Yarnings

  Ev brought towels down to the Subaru to minimize the amount of chocolate I smeared around. The kids were appeased by some Turkish cookies, and they all seemed tired from their big day.

  “Pajamas,” I ordered as soon as we got home, pointing toward their rooms at the back of the apartment.

  “Shower.” Ev pointed at me.

  “I should probably read to them quickly so they start trying to go to sleep—”

  “I will do the reading. You go get clean.” Stern Ev was sexy Ev, and I shivered a bit at his commanding tone. I grabbed a pair of flannel pants and a T-shirt before heading to the shower.

  It took three rounds of shampoo before I felt my hair was clean again, and even then I was totally rethinking the long-hair-is-less-maintenance thing. I heard laughter coming from the twins’ room, so I took my time, trimmed up the beard. It was a luxury these days having another adult around, not having to take a three-minute shower out of worry about what the kids might get up to. Usually, I go barefoot around the house, but I slid on the new socks. They were every bit as soft as they looked and fit me perfectly.

  When I came out of the bathroom, the giggles of Jonas greeted me. Ev did a spot-on Hagrid and had Jonas rolling with laughter next to Ev on the floor of the twins’ room. The girls were already dozing in their beds. My heart did a weird flip at the picture they all made in the dimly lit room. Ev shut the book when he spotted me.

  “I think we will let Brady finish this chapter tomorrow,” Ev said with a fake yawn.

  Jonas totally fell for the yawn, though, letting loose one of his own. “Okay,” he said sleepily and let me usher him across the hall to his bed, where I tucked him in. He was snoring softly by the time I shut the door.

  I found Ev in the kitchen, washing up the last of the dishes from the cake making.

  “Hey. You didn’t have to do that,” I said, wrapping my arm around him from behind.

  “It is just a mixing bowl. But I will accept the hug.” He leaned into my embrace. “You like the socks?” He glanced down at my feet.

  “Love them.” I kissed his neck. “Do you have to go right home or do you think you could stick around a bit? Maybe watch some Storage Wars with me?”

  Ev looked at the couch and back at me, specifically right at my mouth. “I can watch some TV.”

  While Ev got the show queued up with the remote, I flipped off the living room lights and grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch before patting the spot next to me on the couch. Ev studied me for a long second, a little smile tugging his lips.

  “You have no intention of watching the show, do you?” he asked.

  “None. But it’s excellent background noise.” I gave him a smile that I hoped was more seductive than the bone-tired I suddenly felt.

  “How deeply do the kids sleep?” Ev asked as he settled himself next to me, a bit farther away than I was hoping for.

  “Pretty soundly. And that’s part of my evil plan: dark room, TV noise, blanket. Now, stop worrying and make out with me a bit.”

  “If I come over there, then you will have to be very, very quiet indeed.” Ev’s voice took on that commanding edge that never failed to make me sprout wood. And I could tell from his wolfish grin that I had him—he was just going to make me work for it a bit.

  “I’ll be quiet. You might go home with teeth marks, though.” I smiled back at him.

  “I am counting on it.”
Ev slid closer and I threw the blanket over us. “You smell nice.”

  “I just grabbed Renee’s conditioner, but I’m glad you approve.”

  “And your hair is almost curly freshly washed. Very, very nice.” He fisted his hands in my hair, pulling me close enough to kiss.

  It didn’t matter whether it was a sneaky, fast kiss or a more lingering one like this, the first brush of Ev’s tongue against mine always made gooseflesh break out at the small of my back. And when he held my head firmly in place and took charge, I got electric tingles all over, my whole body charged and waiting for whatever he had planned next.

  He pressed me back into the couch and my whole body exhaled, every cell welcoming his warm weight. The towel I’d had around my neck fluttered to the floor and a whole stack of worries followed it down.

  We kissed long and slow, legs tangling, hands languidly stroking. No one was getting naked, which totally played into Ev’s whole thing for clothed sex. “This is totally your kink, isn’t it?” I whispered.

  “I don’t have a kink.” Ev lavished kisses all along my neck, paying particular attention to the line where my beard met bare flesh.

  I snorted. “Ha.”

  “Do not inspire me to get a kink for gags,” he said sternly before kissing me thoroughly.

  Mr. I’m Not Kinky usually had me put my hands against the bed frame, so the freedom to explore him, even clothed, made me a little giddy. His back muscles were lean and ropy, flesh warm under my hand when I slipped it under his shirt, reveling in his inhalation. But he didn’t stop me, only kissed me harder, so I got bolder with my hands, cupping his firm ass and pulling him against me. His slim-fitting pants were too tight for me to get a hand far inside, but it didn’t stop me from teasing all along his waistline.

  Apparently, I’d found some new Ev magic erogenous zone because the touch made him gasp and buck against me. I kept my nails blunt and short because of my job, but I did the best I could to tease his waist and sides, dragging my fingertips against him.

  “Be good,” he said against my lips.

  “I am.”

  He snaked a hand under my shirt and pinched a nipple hard enough I had to stifle a moan.

  “Fuck. Ev. Do that again.”

  He pushed my shirt up, torturing my nipples with his talented fingers while his mouth worked mine over.

  I rocked against him, our hard cocks rubbing through our pants. I fumbled for his zipper as he shoved my pants just low enough to free my cock. I snorted again. Ev had a major thing for trapping me with my own clothes. But no, he wasn’t kinky. Except he totally was, and I loved it.

  We’d done oral again on our second lunch date, so our bare cocks touching and rubbing was novel and intense. Much as I loved Ev’s cock in my mouth, kissing him while we ground together made more than simply my dick overheat—I felt his presence deep in my chest. It felt like he was owning me with his possessive mouth and demanding hips.

  “I know you’re very anti-mess, but I really want to come just like this,” I whispered. “Need it.”

  “For you, I am totally making a mess exception,” he panted. I loved knowing I’d affected his composure so much.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered, pulling him closer against me.

  His hips stuttered and his kiss slowed.

  “Not literally. Just want you to get me off.” I kind of hated having to clarify. This was enough. This was everything. And I wanted him to feel that way, too.

  “You have a filthy mouth.” Ev kissed at the edges of my lips, regaining a bit of his swagger after my reassurance.

  “And you love it.” My kiss turned more demanding, trying to get him back to that toppy zone where he completely overwhelmed me.

  “I do.” His hand tightened in my hair, tipping my head back so he could nip at my neck, hitting all the spots that made me need to stick my fist in my mouth to avoid moaning out loud.

  Ev pried my hand loose and replaced it with his forearm. My teeth grazed the sensitive flesh on the underside of his arm and he hissed in pleasure. I buried a moan against his skin. He hit all my buttons.

  Fuck. I loved this. Loved him.

  No. Not that.

  But my body didn’t listen to my brain, hurtling toward orgasm on that thought. This wasn’t some fumbling with a near stranger in the dark—this was Ev and me and knitted gifts and him reading to my kids and secret smiles over soapy dishes. This was everything I’d never had but always wanted, and it was scary as fuck because like the fleeting rush to orgasm, there was no way it could last.

  “Come on,” I muttered, trying to outrun my thoughts by flooding my senses with Ev.

  “I want you so much,” he whispered and our eyes met in the dark, illuminated by only the glow from the TV. A potent current passed between us, and all the thoughts I was trying to avoid were right there, free for the taking, in his eyes.

  This meant something. For both of us. Every thrust, every gasp, every inch of skin our fingers uncovered—it all meant something.

  He shifted so that his shoulder was level with my mouth, his dick riding hard against my abs, shaft and balls dragging against me. His next thrust perfectly scraped my cockhead and I bit his shoulder to keep the moan in.

  “Yes, aşkim, bite me. That’s it,” Ev urged.

  As I complied, my body arched up, balls tightening, muscles tensing. Now. Right now. Every neuron waited, poised for the fall. Ev muttered something else in Turkish, another string of endearments, but the praise and affection were clear and it pushed me over. My whole body shuddered as he bucked against me, flooding my belly with warmth.

  Ev captured my mouth in a long, slow, sloppy kiss as he slid back down my body. In a second, I’d have to grab the towel, mop us off. In a second, there would be feet on the stairs outside and we’d have to untangle ourselves in a hurry. In a second, we’d both have to go back to being responsible adults. In a second, I’d go back to wondering about what he felt for me. But right then, all I wanted was to hold him a little longer, squeeze him a little tighter, pretend that all those other seconds and minutes and confusing hours weren’t bearing down hard on this perfect moment in time.

  Chapter 11

  All right, dear readers, the time has come for an apology. For years, I have resisted doing children’s patterns. I have been firmly against cutesy pastel yarns and novelty patterns, and I’ve politely declined to do kid versions of my sweaters. And some of you have teased me relentlessly about this stance, and so it is cautiously that I admit that over the last few months my opinion on small people has…evolved. There are some special young people in our lives right now, and I see daily how their joy enriches Hala Mira so much. And if I am honest, my own life benefits from their presence as well, which is not something I would have said a year ago. But I find I very much enjoy their company and the welcome distraction they provide. And Saturday, I’m teaching a class especially for those pint-size new knitters, and thus, I offer you three new patterns to enjoy with or for the children in your lives.—Evren’s Yarnings

  After my birthday, Mira’s health took a sharp decline and I didn’t see Ev more than a few stolen moments for the next week, but as always we had the phone and our late-night conversations, few of which were actually sexual and most of which were venting about our respective charges. But Mira was rallying a bit with another week off chemo and I had big plans to see Ev after work the next night—I was going to redeem the IOU from Renee.

  I found her on the couch with a pile of homework spread out, some reality show about teen virgins desperate to hook up on mute.

  “Hey, sweetheart, I wanted to ask you—”

  “Me first!” She bounced in place like one of the twins. “I was waiting for you to finish the story time with the kids. I need a huge favor tomorrow and I know you’re going to say no—”

  “Renee.” I settled down heavily next to her, the IOU flutter
ing from my hand to the floor. I didn’t bother retrieving it. “If you know I’m going to have an issue…”

  “Hear me out, okay? Our environmental studies class has a visiting lecture and reception we can attend tomorrow. It’s extra credit and I really need it because I had to miss class last week when you got called in to work for Audrey.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “You did us a huge favor and I owe you big-time, but unfortunately, I’ve got to work and I can’t change it. I already had to ask for a schedule change for the twins’ teacher conference.”

  “I know. But I’ve had the best idea—”

  “No.” I already knew where this was headed. “They can’t be home alone.”

  “Jonas can handle two hours. I’ll lay out snacks before I go and I’ll use my money to buy them a new movie on the Xbox, and Jonas has a phone now, so he can call one of us—”

  “Nope.” I’d given Jonas my old phone for the sole purpose of having a backup to Renee’s in case of an emergency, and to give him access to the game he was always swiping mine to play. “The phone is not a babysitter.”

  “What if I find them a playdate?” She looked up at me with big eyes.

  “We’re calling in too many favors with their friends.” I tugged my hair loose from the bun and flipped the TV to Discovery. “But okay. Make some calls.”

  She took her phone into the kitchen area, but she was back less than ten minutes later, shaking her head. “Brady, I need to go.”

  “Is Indigo in this class?”

  “What does it matter?” Her indignant tone told me everything I wanted to know. “I can’t risk my GPA. And Indigo gets that. He’s tutoring me in stats. Or at least he would be if you’d let him come over here.”

  “Bring him by the coffee shop. I need to meet him before he spends time around the kids, and we’ll need some rules in place,” I relented. Maybe her having Indigo around would be preferable to her trying to ditch the kids all the time. “But I can’t have you leaving the kids home tomorrow. Call Indigo and ask him to take good notes for you.”