by Bethany-Kris
“Where’s the fork?”
Connor stared at Evelyn’s serious expression before barking out a laugh. “For what?”
“To eat.”
His laughter only grew, drawing in the attention of several people seated at the tables around them in the pizzeria. He didn’t care that people were watching, because he was too amused by the confusion lighting up Evelyn’s features.
“What?” she asked.
It was funny.
And it wasn’t funny at the same time.
“You’ve only eaten pizza with a fork, really?”
She shrugged. “The one or two times I’ve had it.”
Aye, feck.
He should have kept feeding her the damn food himself, because now, he just hated the world and the people in it a bit more. It was pizza, not something more serious like others things she had told him, or even things she had gone into depth explaining. It wasn’t as though pizza equaled things like being forced to please a man, or being beaten just for breathing.
It was pizza.
It was a simple, stupid thing.
Something she didn’t understand, because why would she?
“Nobody who knows how to properly eat a pizza does so with a fork,” Connor said. “You use your hands, lass.”
“Oh, okay.”
Evelyn picked up the slice, and went to town. He chuckled to himself, watching her eat while he chowed down on his own food and drink. It wasn’t long before their plates were empty, and Evelyn looked to Connor, expectantly.
“What?” he asked.
“I want another piece of that heaven.”
His laughter rung out loudly in the restaurant again. “I told you the cheese was good.”
“Yeah, yeah. You know it all. I get it.”
Connor shrugged. “Not all, Evelyn. I’m still learning things about you.”
She’d gone back to staring out the window, and he wondered if she had even heard a thing he said. Apparently, she had. “Give it time.”
How much time did they have?
That was the real question.
“Connor?”
“What, Evelyn?”
“Could we go listen to some music somewhere? I love music.”
How was he supposed to say no to that?
“Here, a drink,” Connor said, holding out the glass for Evelyn to take. She did, sniffing the red liquid and looking up at him curiously. “A red wine. More sweet than sour.”
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“No, but if I were, we wouldn’t be using wine.”
“Whiskey is the Irish way, isn’t it?”
Connor scoffed, taking a seat beside Evelyn on the leather sectional, a pint of black stuff in his hand. Wine wasn’t his thing, but he figured Evelyn might want to drink if they were in a bar, and he had something of his own.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, lass.”
But to be fair, she had a point.
Evelyn simply shot him with a sly smile that said she knew he was toying with her, and sipped on her drink. “What now?”
“You wanted to listen to music, so wait, and listen.”
Connor took the chance to survey the bar, and the people inside. It wasn’t a pub, like he preferred, or even a club where someone could get up and dance. However, the place was a little-known gem, tucked away in a rather old part of Brooklyn, and it did decent business. The place didn’t appeal to a younger crowd because it didn’t cater to specialty drinks, flashing lights, and new-age music.
Instead, the place sported shined wooden floors, low lighting, leather furniture, a bartender with a tongue as sharp as his eye, and a stage. A single spotlight on the stage lit up the lone microphone that also gave a shout-out to the yesteryears gone by, with its large size and crackly sound when it was turned on.
It wasn’t Connor’s first time at the place, but he didn’t come here often, either. He needed to be in a sort of mood to enjoy the atmosphere and nuance the bar provided. Usually when he went out to drink, it wasn’t to enjoy the establishment, but to get drunk, have a meet with someone, or find a quick ride with a woman.
Connor glanced over to find Evelyn watching him from the corner of her eye. None of those things were on the table tonight—at least not with someone else. He found he wasn’t all that interested in those things, anyway, unless the lass beside him asked for it.
She had asked for music, but didn’t mention anything about dancing or the sort. He figured a bar with rubbish music wouldn’t be up her alley, and neither would a club with enough people to make anyone claustrophobic. Maybe in time, but not tonight.
The curtains moved at the back of the stage, making Evelyn sit straighter as two people came out on the stage. A man and a woman, both dressed for a stage, while the man had a stool and guitar in his grasp.
Connor rested comfortably into the sectional, throwing his arm along the back. “Live music, love. You can’t get better than that.”
Evelyn didn’t reply, but her profile was more than enough to tell him she was over the feckin’ moon. He didn’t care to pay attention to the couple on the stage setting up, or even the other people who had started to swarm the stage to get a seat on the sectional surrounding it to be the closest for the show.
Even after the man began to strum out a low, soulful tune while the woman’s vocals perfectly complimented the instrument’s sound, Connor was distracted. Or rather, far more interested in someone else.
Evelyn, that was.
He didn’t want to miss a single thing as she experienced it with him, especially when she looked as happy as she did right then in that second. There had never been a moment when he wanted to freeze time, to perfectly capture a moment, more than he did when she smiled. It was always so genuine, so perfectly beautiful.
She didn’t even realize it.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to, when he’d never bothered to pay attention to something so simple in the other people around him.
Perhaps Evelyn was just special in that way.
Connor had been so caught up in watching Evelyn, that he didn’t realize she was staring back at him until she spoke up.
“Don’t you like the music?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “Aye, but I like something else far better, lass.”
Evelyn leaned into his side, settling more relaxed into the leather and closer to Connor. Her fingertips danced with his along the back of the sectional before she pulled his arm down around her shoulders. He quickly managed to lose track of time again, simply by the sensation of Evelyn’s fingers toying with his as she watched the show.
Connor couldn’t help but want more; he was a selfish bastard in that way, though he never tried to hide it. He stroked her bare arm up to the cap sleeve of her dress, stopping to finger the lace overlay of the blue fabric. He’d wondered what dress she would pick from the handful that had been purchased, and was secretly happy with her choice.
For a few reasons …
It was high enough in the back to hide the stars below her neck, yet dipped low enough in the front to make his gaze and mind wander while his throat and slacks tightened. The deep blue make the red tones in her hair stand out more, and even caused her freckles to be a wee bit more noticeable on her skin. The skirt fell at her knees, but wasn’t so tight that he couldn’t get it up over her waist rather fast, if needed.
Connor smirked to himself, shaking his head as his fingers traveled back down the length of her soft arm again. Evelyn was paying attention to his moves, because with each touch, goosebumps bloomed over her flesh, though she never looked away from the stage.
He decided then and there that he could stay like this forever, watching her and touching her, because it was one of the most interesting things he had ever seen. She was by far one of the most interesting things he had ever been lucky enough to meet.
Twice, actually.
He’d been that lucky twice.
When Connor couldn’t seem to distract her by stroki
ng her arm, he moved to her hair, playing with the silky strands and curling the waves around his fingers just tight enough that she could feel him tugging. Evelyn’s smile grew a wee bit wicked under the low lighting, and Connor knew he damn near had her, then.
He was terribly happy that she was enjoying her night out, even if he hadn’t exactly planned for all the things they ended up doing. But now, he was ready to move on, perhaps get her back to the brownstone, and see what she wanted from there.
It’d been two weeks since she’d given him the pleasure of putting something beautiful on her body that would never be removed … two weeks since he had watched her twist and cry out under her own hands, giving into her own wants.
He’d not entertained the idea again, unsure if he had crossed a line the first time, though he was more than willing to jump the feck over it a second time, if given the chance. But it wasn’t about him, she had to make that choice on her own, because she wanted it. It was as simple as that.
She hadn’t asked.
She needed to ask.
Evelyn eventually tugged his hand out of her hair, and set it in her lap, intertwining their fingers tightly together as if to keep Connor still. It didn’t take long before she was tracing the ink on the back of his hand to where the tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeve of his dress shirt.
“Every time I look, I find something new,” Evelyn murmured.
“One of the good things about turning your mind and thoughts into art, and putting them on your body,” he replied.
“What’s a bloody crown have to do with your thoughts and mind, then?”
Connor didn’t have an easy or simple answer for that one. “Only the bloodiest ones wear the crown.”
“Oh.”
His explanation didn’t seem to thwart her curiosity, as she continued peering over the tattoos around the main one, others that helped to make up the starting of a sleeve. It covered his whole arm.
“I don’t like this very much,” Evelyn said.
“Hmm, love?”
His mind was entirely somewhere else, clearly.
She held out the wine glass, still nearly full. “Maybe wine isn’t my thing.”
Connor laughed low, taking the long-stemmed glass from her hand. “Maybe we’ll try whiskey next time, and see if we can get a bit of that Irish out of you.”
“Maybe.”
Her pretty features took on a more demure look in the low light of the bar, and Connor couldn’t help himself when he traced the line of her cupid’s bow on her upper lip with the tip of his thumb. His next move was simply out of instinct, because she hadn’t shied away from his touch, and instead, smiled.
Connor’s hand slid around the back of Evelyn’s neck, and he pulled her forward, determined to get a taste of her pretty mouth. Her lips met his soft and sweet, but that wasn’t nearly enough for him. He’d wanted a taste, not a feckin’ tease. He only needed to nip on her bottom lip to get the response he wanted, and her mouth opened for him. The tart wine and heat of her mouth was lovely, so much so that he damn near forgot where they were in those few brief seconds.
It was Evelyn who pulled away.
“We should go,” she whispered, still close enough to him to place another kiss on his lips. “Shouldn’t we?”
Oh, yes.
He was very much ready to go.
“Enjoy the rest of the song,” Connor told her. “I’ll take these glasses back and we’ll head out.”
Evelyn nodded. “All right.”
Connor headed for the bar, got rid of the glasses, paid for the tab, and turned back toward the stage, only to see a sight that had his blood boiling. He hadn’t been gone very long—two minutes at the most—but apparently, that didn’t matter to some people.
Or rather, it didn’t matter to the man now sitting a wee bit too close to Evelyn on the leather sectional facing the stage. Connor could tell, even from his position, that the man’s presence was making Evelyn uncomfortable just by being near her. The guy leaned in closer, and Evelyn moved away accordingly, but that didn’t stop the foolish fecker from moving in again.
It was her stiff spine and darting gaze that spoke of something worse to Connor, especially when her stare found him, wide and worried.
Fear.
She was scared of the man, perhaps because it was her nature, or a learned trait. Connor wasn’t entirely sure, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that she didn’t enjoy or want the attention the guest was lavishing on her. One look at her face said it all.
Rage churned heavily in Connor’s gut as he headed toward Evelyn and the unknown man. Connor rounded the back of the couch, just behind where the fool was sitting, as Evelyn caught his eye again.
He wasn’t sure what she was more worried about; what he might do, or what her unwanted companion was attempting to do.
“Let me buy you a drink,” the guy said. “Bet it’ll loosen you up enough to talk, beautiful.”
Nope.
Connor bent down, resting his arms along the back of the couch, gaining the fool’s attention. “Leave.”
He didn’t give warnings.
He didn’t make nice.
He wasn’t the type.
“Pardon?” the guy asked, looking over his shoulder to find Connor staring straight at him.
“Leave,” Connor demanded again.
The guy chuckled, which only served to piss Connor off even more than he already was. He wasn’t a joke, and he wasn’t about to be treated like one.
“Listen, man, we’re just having a conversation,” the guy said. “Back off a little.”
His hand came up fast, his fingers stroking Evelyn’s cheek with a gentle touch. It didn’t matter how soft the man was, she flinched, and Connor exploded.
Connor grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair at the crown of his head at the same time he moved around the side of the seat. The guy’s shouts and Connor’s sudden, violent action caused the singers on stage to quiet, and likely gained the attention of the one bouncer at the door. Connor didn’t care.
Before the guy could even think to fight back, Connor brought the man’s face crashing down into the wee, round table in front of the seating area. The bottles, shots, and wine glasses jumped, tumbling and shattering on the floor.
Blood bloomed from the fool’s face, spilling across the table.
Connor smashed the guy’s face into the table one more time, just for good measure. The arsehole wasn’t dead, but he sure as hell looked a wee bit worse for wear, and wouldn’t feel very feckin’ good come morning.
Bending down, Connor told the bleeding idiot, “Next time you’re told to leave, just do that. Someone else might not be as kind as I was tonight.”
Connor let the guy go, and the useless sack of shite fell to the floor, unmoving. Likely unconscious, not that it made much of a difference now.
“All right, you need to leave!” shouted the oncoming bouncer.
Connor held a hand out to a stunned, silent Evelyn who was still sitting where she had been when he left her. “Come on, lass. Seems we need to go.”
Evelyn glanced up at him. “Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
He did look a wee bit dead.
“He’s still bleeding, ain’t he?”
Evelyn’s burst of nervous laughter made Connor smile. He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the couch with a wink, stepping over the bloody, prone form of the man on the floor. Seeing the bouncer coming their way, and blocking off the direct path to the front entrance at the same time, Connor looked for an alternative route.
“Exit,” he said with a nod in the direction they needed to go.
He gave a quick swat on Evelyn’s arse, and off she went, with him right on her heels. Neither of them looked back at the bouncer following them as they disappeared out the exit, and into a dark, back alley.
Connor grabbed a large pole, likely used to hold the door open, and jammed it between the handle and the ground, effe
ctively stopping the bouncer from getting outside. His hand found Evelyn’s lower back as he guided her through the maze of the back alleys, keeping her close to his side.
“How do you even find your way around back here?”
Connor shrugged. “Mostly, you just walk until you see light coming from a street.”
He was joking.
Sort of.
Finally, a light did come after another turn, and a street came into view. Connor held back from taking Evelyn out into the street so they could find his truck. “Are you all right, lass?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine.”
He turned her around to face him. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Beat that guy’s face into a table?”
Connor smirked. “Not in front of you, maybe.”
“You’re too honest for your own good.”
“Not a bad thing.”
Evelyn sighed, saying, “I just … it shocked me.”
“I have a violent streak sometimes.”
Understatement.
She glanced up at him, her brow puckering. “No, not that. I meant, the fact you reacted at all. That you got angry enough over him bothering me to react. I think we say that’s jealousy, Connor.”
He cleared his throat. “Hmm.”
“You were jealous—admit it.”
“So what if I was? You didn’t look very comfortable, I handled it.”
“Two birds, one stone?”
“Exactly, lass.”
Evelyn grabbed his hands, and looked them over. “You’ve got blood all over your hands, you know.”
“It washes off.”
“Does it?” she asked.
“The bits of it you can see,” he said vaguely.
“Thank you, Connor.”
“For what?”
“For caring at all, I guess.”
Before Connor had blinked, Evelyn stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him hard on the mouth. At first, the kiss was innocent, sweet enough to make him smile, even, until it wasn’t innocent and sweet at all. Her lips parted and her tongue darted into his mouth, almost hesitantly at first, seeking something from him. He grabbed her waist, dragging her body into his until every inch of her was pressed against him while he got the chance to taste her mouth again.