by Aubrey Irons
She scowls at Rowan before turning her sour attitude on me. “You’ve been gone a long time.”
“I was right down the street getting coffee!”
“The Center won’t build itself, Eva.”
I roll my eyes, but she pulls me away. I glance back at Rowan and shrug.
“Rain check,” he shouts after me with a wink.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to…do it.”
“Do what.”
“Make love to me.”
“That what you want me to do to you?”
I swallow, slowly shaking my head. “No,” I whisper.
“Then why don’t you tell me what you really want me to do to you.”
Lingering tendrils of heat from the night before tease into my head as I glance back one last time at the man who barged into my dreams.
I quickly swallow.
“Oh, Eva, isn’t all this just wonderful?”
My mother smiles warmly as we step into the volunteer tent. She’s wearing one of her long, buttoned-all-the-way-up dresses with the long sleeves and high collar.
I always feel like she’d be happier wearing something slightly cheerier.
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “It’s very wonderful.”
“We’re building the Kingdom, honey!” She beams at me.
I smile back, but the sight of her dress makes me frown for another reason, as I think back on what Rowan said.
Am I all buttoned up? Am I just becoming another church lady like my mother? Just a housewife for some male church member?
I shake my head.
“Oh, Eva!” My mother places a hand on my arm, beaming at me. “Your father just heard from Milton!”
“Oh?”
“He’s moving his visit up!”
I can feel my face pale. “He is?”
“Yes, dear. He had business in Boston sooner than expected, and your father invited him to come by earlier to see the progress on the Center. And of course, to see you and to begin the courtship.”
The courtship.
I take it back; we are in feudal England.
My mother and Chastity are looking at me with big expectant smiles on their faces. I quickly blink away the sinking feeling. “Oh, that’s…great!”
Chastity crooks her head to the side and places a hand on my arm. “This is so exciting, Eva!”
“Yeah,” I say distantly. “Exciting.”
Shit.
Yeah, I am becoming my mother and everything I don’t want to be. Or at least I will become those things.
Unless I break free.
Chapter Fourteen
Rowan
I’ve got the Ramones record turned up loud, a pen in my hand, and a beer sitting across the kitchen counter from me — my reward if I ever finish going through last month’s numbers.
I scowl as my eyes run down the columns, and I groan as I finish typing numbers into the calculator next to me.
Shit.
Wonderful news as always.
Between the bank and Rich breathing down my neck, it’s going to be amazing if I ever turn a profit. I briefly wonder if Jade would ever work for free booze instead of cash.
Probably not.
Of course, the fact that I spent the first part of my morning going right back down that primrose path with Eva isn’t helping my concentration here. The fact that again, I pushed the envelope and moved from banter to straight out flirting isn’t helping my mood.
That’s the sort of shit that’s going to get me in trouble with that girl.
I grumble, toying with the pen in my hand. I should just call Fiona. I should get her over here, get her bent over this kitchen counter and fuck the hell out of her until I get this out of my system, as much as that idea does not actually appeal to me.
I glare back at the numbers in front of me, when there’s a knock on my door.
I freeze. Slowly, I reach for the baseball bat with the Sox logo on it leaning against the wall next to the fridge
The knock comes again as I grip the bat tight, clenching my jaw and advancing on the door. Rich showing up early in the day like this and not on the first of the month can not be good news.
And I sure as hell am not going down without a fight.
The knock comes a third time — quieter, softer.
I frown. That’s not Gus or Rich, that’s for sure.
Bat in hand, I unlock the door and slowly crack it open.
“Hi.”
I grin and open the door wide for Eva.
“Hey.”
She glances at the bat, her brow furrowing.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I set the bat down by the closet door.
“Everything okay?”
“Just working on my swing.”
She raises a brow. “I see?”
I grin. “Actually baseball was never my thing.”
“I thought I’d heard Boston was obsessed with the Red Hats.”
I laugh. “Sox.”
“What?”
I chuckle. “It’s Red Sox, not Hats.”
“Sorry, not a sports person.”
“Yeah weird, never would have guessed.”
She gives me a look. “So what did you play?”
“Hockey, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yep. All-state in high school.”
“Wow.” Her brows go up in surprise. “Do you still play?”
“Nope.”
She looks at me expectantly at my one-word answer.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here, by the way?”
Eva bristles.
Fuck.
“No, hang on. I mean, it’s cool you’re here, I just mean did you need something?”
She looks at the floor, her teeth raking over her lip. “Do you have anything to drink?”
I snort. “Um…” I wave a hand at the wall of shelves full of promotional free shit liquor companies send you when you open a bar.
“Oh, whoa.” Her eyes go wide as she glances over the shelves.
“What’s your poison?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
“Okay, right. Add that to the list.”
“Of?”
“Of things to fix for you being twenty-one.”
She frowns. “I don’t need fixing.”
“Well, so far, we’ve got ‘never had sex’ and ‘doesn’t know her drink’.”
She glares at me.
“We’re working on the first, and I think good ole’ Milton might play a big part.”
Eva groans and drops her face into her hands as I grin.
“So let’s work on part two. You’ve drank before right?”
“Of course,” she says quickly.
“Of course?”
“I mean, sort of.”
“Please tell me I didn’t give you your first beer the other night.”
She smiles. “Oh, no.”
“Good.”
“My second.”
I whistle lowly. “Well, shit. This is bigger than I thought it was. What about hard liquor?”
“I had plum wine when I was in Korea?”
“Right, that’s a no.” I sigh, rubbing my hands together. “Let’s stick to something light then.”
“Why?” She walks over to the shelves and starts to run her fingers over the bottles. “This looks good.” She pulls a bottle of scotch from the shelf.
I laugh. “You’ve got good taste.”
“So, this is it?”
“It’s scotch.”
“Never had it. Let’s try it.”
I eye her, furrowing my brow. “Everything okay?”
“Yep!” she says quickly. “I just- c’mon, let’s try some.”
I shrug, grabbing two glasses. “All right, screw it.”
I pour her a tiny, tentative sip.
“You act like I’m going to hate
it.”
“Try it first.”
Eva picks up the glass, and immediately wrinkles her nose as she sniffs at it. “It smells like dirt.”
“That’s sort of the point.”
She shrugs. “Well, here we go then.” She tips the glass back, downs the scotch, and immediately starts to cough and wheeze.
Her face turns red as she chokes and sputters, and I chuckle as I come around and pat her lightly on the back. “You all right?”
“Holy shit,” she wheezes.
“Yeah, how’d that go?”
“I think I always thought it was going to taste like butterscotch.”
I cringe. “Okay, well, that’s setting yourself up for failure.”
“Right, so, not my drink.”
“I think we can agree on that.” I put the cork back in the $300 bottle of liquor.
“So what’s next?”
I eye her again. “Why don’t we stick to beer?”
“I’m not a little kid you know.”
“No, you just have the drinking experience of one.”
She makes a face as she goes back to scanning the shelves. “How about this one?”
“That’s gin.”
“And?”
“Yeah, we’re not giving you gin.”
She groans. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”
“Go ahead and trust me on this one, okay?”
She turns back, her hand coming up to push her hair back and tuck it behind her ears in this adorable and yet totally hot way.
“What about…” she traces her fingers across the bottles on the shelf, my eyes dancing over her.
God she looks good.
Not in a skanky way like the girls I usually bring up here either. She just looks good. Wholesome good.
This is a new thing for me.
“How about this one.”
“You’re picking on labels aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah.”
She holds up the bottle of tequila.
“Tequila.”
“I can read.”
I grin. “All right, fuck it. Let’s try it.”
I grab a fresh glass and pour her another small one.
“Oh, hang on.” I stop her before she can take the glass and grab a lime from the fruit basket on my counter and a knife from the drawer. I slice her off a bit.
“Chase it with this.”
“Chase it?”
“Bite the lime after. And don’t shoot it this time. Just take a sip.”
She picks up the glass. “Cheers.” She sips, her eyes water, but she bites the lime.
She grins.
“Okay, that’s my drink.”
I laugh. “That quick, huh?”
“I could get used to it.”
“Oh, wonderful. Your father will shoot me.”
She giggles. “Oh, he would if he knew I was here.”
I freeze. “Wait, what?”
She laughs. “Sorry.”
“Where does he think you are?”
“Making hymnal copies at your dad’s office up at the church.”
I groan.
“He wouldn’t actually kill you,” she says with a laugh, picking her glass up.
“Comforting, thanks.”
“Are you having one?”
“Well, I’ve got a southern preacher who may or may not come looking to shoot me for corrupting his daughter’s mortal soul, so, yeah, I think that calls for a drink.”
She laughs as I grab another glass, spill some tequila into it, and cut off another slice of lime. “Sláinte.”
“What’s that?”
“Cheers. It’s Gaelic.”
She grins. “Well, sláinte, then”
We clink glasses and take a sip.
Eva clears her throat. “So, I actually came here to start.”
My brow perks up. “Start?
“The lessons,” she says quietly.
Aaaand my cock is hard. Rock. Fucking. Hard.
“This why you wanted a drink.”
She blushes. “Liquid courage.”
“Well, shit.” I sigh, taking another big sip of tequila. “Well, c’mon then.” I jerk my head away from the kitchen counter and lead her into the living room area by the window. “Couch. Sit.” I grin. “Class is now in session.”
She grins at me curiously before smoothing her dress down and sitting.
Suddenly, this feels like a high school date, not like the kind of dates I usually bring here. The dates I bring here are already on my lap, or bent over with their panties around their ankles.
Not her.
“So, lay it on me.”
She looks at me nervously. “Just… go ahead?”
“Any question.”
She blinks, and quickly chases another sip tequila before she puts the glass down and folds her hands on her lap. She looks up at me.
“What’s cowgirl?”
I snort out a laugh. “Wow.”
Eva blushes, her brow wrinkling as she looks down. “What?”
“Jumping right in, huh?”
“Well you mentioned it the other night, and I didn’t know what it is.”
“You know the others.”
She blushes. “Yes.”
“Doggy?”
Her face is bright red, in an adorable way that’s making me grin. “Yes,” she says quietly.
I chuckle, sipping my drink. “Cowgirl is exactly what it sounds like. So what do cowgirls do?”
“Ride horses?”
“Exactly.”
She frowns. “What does- oh.”
She quickly looks into her drink.
“I think you’re getting it.”
She grins shyly. “Yeah, I think I got that one.”
She shifts, taking a sip.
The vinyl Ramones record I’d been listening to when she walked in stops.
“I’ll get it,” she says quickly, jumping up from the couch and skipping over to the media center against the wall.
“I’m a little punk-ed out, actually.” I take a seat on the couch. “If you just hit play on the iPod that’s plugged in, it should just play whatever played last.”
She nods, her back to me as she picks up the iPod. The beat of the first track starts, and she spins on her toe, grinning.
Oh, shit.
I’ve been on a vinyl kick for weeks, which means the last time I had the iPod going was probably a month or so ago when I had someone up here.
In this case, it means “whatever played last,” is my sex playlist.
Fuck.
Dark, grooving, grinding shit. Music to fuck to, NOT music to listen to while drinking with sweet, untouchable, off limits Evangeline Ellis.
“Oooh, I like this!” she says, smiling. She slow dances back to the couch and sits back down.
Quite close to me, I notice.
“Well?”
I grin. “Well?”
“Well, keep teaching me! This is getting interesting!”
The booze is going right to her head — making her bolder, sassier.
“Well, are we out of questions already?”
She blushes.
“That looks like a no.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says with a nervous laugh.
I grin. “We can stop whenever.”
“No.”
She says it quickly, glancing up at me and shaking her head. “No, we can keep going.”
I nod.
“Okay, um, what’s, like…” She sighs, her confidence cracking slightly. “Okay, what do I do first?”
“With Milton.”
She nods. “Unless I should just get to, you know, it first.”
I shake my head, frowning.
Frowning at the thought of Eva “getting to it” with that douche Milton.
“No,” I say gruffly. “No, you need to work up to it. You gotta get the heat up slowly.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“So, music, lights, all that.”
“Music like this?” she says quietly.
I grin. “Yeah, like this. Slow. Something that sounds sexy.”
Eva sips her drink. “Okay.”
Fuck, why are we sitting so close. Why am I sitting so close to this girl right now that I could just lean right in and fucking touch her.
Kiss her.
I clear my throat. “Guys need to warm up too. You gotta get his pulse going before you do anything. Make him want it.”
She nods, enraptured by what I’m saying.
“Touch his arm.”
“Where?”
Aaaand here I go walking right out onto thin ice.
Fuck it.
“Here.” I touch the inside of her elbow, my fingertip sliding over her skin. Her cheeks glow.
“Or here.” I run my hand down to her wrist, letting my fingers brush over the soft skin there.
She shivers. “Uh-huh.”
“Here.” My hand moves up her arm, over her bare shoulder and across the strap of her sundress. She swallows, her eyes locking onto mine.
I should stop. I should get my hands away from a girl as good as this.
Except I know damn well that’s not happening.
My hand traces higher, cupping the side of her neck. “Right here.”
“Oh, okay,” she breathes quietly. Her pulse beats hot under my fingers.
And then we’re just locked like that. My hand cupping her cheek, our eyes blazing into the other’s, not moving.
“Then what,” she says softly.
“Kissing is good.”
“Kissing,” she whispers.
“Yeah, kissing.”
And that’s when the damn breaks. That’s when the music, the tequila, and the girl sitting right in front of me wrapped up in original sin is too much to hold back from.
I lean in, and she’s gasping and searing her lips to mine before I can even stop myself. Her hand goes to my neck, mirroring mine on hers and grabbing my hair as I kiss her. She moans, and when I open my lips, she does the same. My tongue finds hers, and she hesitates, before shuddering against me and letting me taste her.
I growl and grab her tighter, growling into her mouth and tasting those sweet off-limits lips.
Sweet like the sweetest fucking sin.
I groan and go to pull her closer, but suddenly, she jumps back as if struck by live wire. Her eyes are wide, and her hand flies to her lips.
“Oh my God!”
She jumps from the couch, backing away for me and almost tripping over my coffee table.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
I stand. “Eva-”
“No!” Her face is white. “Oh my God, what is wrong with me?”