by Paige Prince
She nodded. “I have Twitter, thank you so much. You just made his night.”
I snapped a picture with Evan crouched down next to Steven, arm slung around his shoulders. When he picked Steven up and mimicked a wrestling move, I snapped another. And another. And another. Steven’s giggles filled the restaurant, and I could hear other people laughing, too.
There’s nothing so joyous or infectious as a child’s laughter.
Steven wrapped his little arms around Evan’s waist and hugged as hard as he could. “Thank you so much, Mr. Evan. My friends at school are never gonna believe me!”
Evan ruffled Steven’s hair and grinned. “Just show them the pictures. They’ll have no choice. It was very nice to meet you. But you should probably get back to your dinner. I think it might be getting cold by now.”
“Yes, sir. G’night!”
I wrote down the mother’s Twitter name and set a reminder to post the pictures later. I didn’t want to be rude and stay glued to my phone at the table, but if I didn’t set the reminder, I’d inevitably forget. Sometimes I had entirely too much going on in my head for one person.
“Does that happen often?” I asked quietly as I finished my risotto.
“What, fans approaching me? Or kids getting that excited?”
“Mmhmm,” I replied, my mouth still full of food.
He shrugged, “Sometimes. It’s happening more now that I’m up for the heavyweight championship belt. I haven’t quite gotten used to it yet. Don’t know if I ever will. I’m just one guy, you know?”
I nodded, but I didn’t actually know. I’d never been around that kind of fame before. And I wasn’t entirely sure his modesty wasn’t false—I’d only just met him the night before. How did I know he wasn’t just putting on a show to get me into bed?
Because not all guys are dickbags. I’ve already reminded myself once tonight. I can’t be a spinster forever. Two years is long enough.
Evan picked up his wine glass and sipped the Chianti, eyes closing as though he were drinking ambrosia. All I could focus on was his hand curved around the bottom of the glass. Imagining how perfectly his hand would fit the curve of my ass, or cup my—
I had to blink my eyes a few times to bring myself out of it this time, before I dropped more silverware.
“You okay?” Evan’s eyes were wide with concern.
“Yes…why?”
“I’ve called your name a few times. You zoned out.” As my face burned in mortification, his mouth curved into a grin. “Where’d you go? Anywhere special?”
I shook my head, making my hair fly and hit me in the face. “Nope. Nowhere special. Somewhere boring, actually. Very boring. Work boring. Because my life is all about work and I’m like a grandma, I’m so boring.” Why the hell was I babbling?
Hi, busted. Here I am.
He threw his head back and laughed. I didn’t know if I was offended or relieved, but the rich timbre of his laughter made me remember just where my mind had wandered. Clearly, Evan Rodriguez was a magician.
I crossed my arms over my chest, which pushed my cleavage to front center stage, so it probably wasn’t the best position for intimidation, but it was all I had at the time. “What’s so funny?”
Pretending to wipe away a tear, he chuckled a few more times before responding, “Imagining you as a grandma. Baby.” He looked pointedly from my red painted lips down to my breasts and back up, his tongue barely poking out to lick his lips. “You are definitely no grandma.”
Well, there goes any chance of arriving home with dry panties tonight.
It took a full thirty seconds before I could speak again, and my gaze darted around the table, looking for a way to change the subject. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Ahem…dessert?”
The dessert menu wasn’t super impressive, and the few times I dared try anything, I had to tap out two bites in. But, I had a bit of a sweet tooth, so I’d inevitably end up elbow-deep in confectioner’s sugar later that night. Fortunately, the guise didn’t make me sound like a sex-starved ring rat. Much… I was a professional, dammit. No one could ever call me anyone’s groupie.
“Normally, I’d say yes. But I’m full, and I don’t want to be uncomfortable. If you want something, I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing with you, though.” His fingers traced the rim of his wine glass, and I sat there gazing at his hands rather than the black and cream menu in front of me.
I chewed on my bottom lip as though in thought for a moment. “I don’t think I want any dessert tonight. You’re right; I’m full but not uncomfortable. Let’s not push it.”
He signaled for the check, leaving a generous tip and the autograph the waiter was too shy to ask for.
Despite it being nine in the evening, the temperature still hovered around eighty-two and the humidity was so bad it felt like we swam to the SUV instead of walking. I wish I could’ve said summer came early, but that was basically Houston weather all year round—hot and sticky.
In the car, we spoke a little more, talking about our favorite music and movies. He loved metal, country music, action and old war movies, while I preferred pop, blues, jazz, and romantic comedies. The one interest we shared was our love of reading. We’d both read anything put in front of us.
Even though we were getting along so well, I’d begun to talk myself into thinking the look in his eyes at the restaurant was all in my imagination until he pulled into a spot in front of my apartment and asked to come in.
“Of course you can come in,” I said shyly. “Would you like to watch a movie? Talk some more? I think I have a bottle of wine open; if you like white, it’s a pretty decent vintage.”
I was screaming at myself to shut up because I knew I was rambling again, but I couldn’t stop. Even when he rushed to open my car door and waited as I unlocked the apartment, I rambled. He patiently answered my questions, probably amused by my sudden nervousness.
“A movie would be nice, but I’d really like to keep talking…what if we put on some music and sit down with that wine?”
I had to stop myself from hyperventilating. “Sure, that sounds lovely.”
He made his way over to the stereo, bending down to reach the bottom of the entertainment center to turn on the music. I was suddenly thankful for the kitchen being so open, with an unobstructed view of the very place he knelt.
I smiled to myself as I turned to pull two wine glasses from the cabinet by the stove and got the bottle from the fridge. It took me a second to remember how much wine was appropriate to pour, since Mel and I usually filled the entire glass to reduce trips to the kitchen. At least, that’s what we claimed.
My couch looked tiny with Evan sitting on it. I stood in the space between the kitchen and living room for a moment, enjoying the sight of this gorgeous man in my home, before I made my way over to sit by him.
“Is one of those for me?” He held his hand out hopefully.
“Uh uh. You gotta go make your own. This is all mine!” I pulled both glasses to the side, away from him but nowhere near out of his reach. Evan’s arms were longer than my legs—there was no way I’d ever win in a game of Keep Away.
His mouth turned down in a pout. “But you said there’d be wine! I should take my toys and go home.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Okay, fine. Here’s your wine. Big baby.” I handed him a glass, which he accepted with a wink and a smile.
He took a sip and listened to Corinne Bailey Rae sing about being breathless for a minute, a thoughtful expression on his face. It might not have been his first choice since it was definitely neither metal nor country, but it was the most played track on my iPod.
Game on, Evan.
He stood as he set his glass on the end table, then took mine and placed it next to his before holding his hand out. “Will you dance with me, Charlotte?”
This was unexpected but not unwelcome. “Of course.” I stood as he pulled me into his arms, nudging the coffee table closer to the couch with his knee to give us more room.
; My hands slid along the length of his arms, up to his neck. Bending down to accommodate my height, Evan wrapped his arms around my waist and began awkwardly moving side to side.
After a minute, we both began laughing and had to stop dancing. “Maybe we should switch places with arm placement?” I suggested. This way is…weird.”
The moment we switched, it was like everything fell into place. Evan showed me just how well he could move, even in the limited space of my apartment.
He led me in a perfect box step, surprising me when he suddenly took one of my hands and spun me out, then back in against his body. The world flipped upside down as he dipped me low, laughing softly as I clutched his forearms in a death grip. My necklace hung behind me, lost somewhere in my hair, and landing in the middle of my back when he brought us upright again.
We stood there for a moment, frozen in the middle of the room and staring into each other’s eyes. Evan ran a hand down the side of my arm and up my shoulder as he looked down at me. I shuddered as he trailed his fingers over my lower back. A smile played on his lips as he did it again, testing whether or not I’d shudder again. I didn’t disappoint him.
The fire that had begun in my stomach spread lower, and I unconsciously pressed closer, surprised when I felt the hard length of his cock against my stomach through his slacks.
His hands made their way to cup either side of my face. He locked his gaze with mine before he lowered his head and brought his lips to mine.
The kiss was soft, something I’d never expected from “The Beast” Evan Rodriguez. I hesitantly moved my hands up his arms, over his back, to tangle in his hair. He ran his tongue over my bottom lip, seeking entrance. My mouth opened on a gasp, and he took it as an invitation. One arm pulled me tighter to him as he threaded his other hand into my hair, a low groan sounding in his throat.
We backed up toward the couch, and I barely registered the edge bumping against my calves as he lowered us across the cushions.
Careful not to rest his full weight on my body, he ran his hands down the sides of my arms, pressing himself against me. I let out a soft moan as his hand moved over my hips, down my thighs, then back up as he pushed the skirt of my sundress up.
His fingertips trailed fire over my bare flesh, and my hips rose to move against him. He ground his hips against mine as I trailed my nails over his back. He nipped at my lips as he moved his fingers over the top of my panties, dipping beneath the edge and running his short nails over my skin.
My body screamed for him to continue when he pulled his hand away and moved down over the fabric. He cupped my pussy through the material and grazed slowly up, then down, and back up my slit with his finger, sending goosebumps running across my flesh. I moaned against his mouth as he moved the fabric aside and slipped a digit inside me, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my clit. He pushed another finger into me as he began to move in time with the rhythm our tongues set.
He moved his mouth over my neck, and I let out a cry as he bit down on my shoulder. My nails dug into his skin as I came, his name a breath on my lips. He unzipped the side of my sundress and pushed it up, helping me slip it off.
“You’re stunning,” he whispered as he unhooked my bra, tossed it to the side, and took a nipple in his mouth. He kneaded my breast as he kissed, licked, and bit his way down my body, paying special attention to my hips once he discovered the moan I made when he touched me there.
He kissed down my stomach to my pussy. He traced my lips with his tongue. In the back of my mind, I was glad we were already lying down because I knew my knees would’ve gone weak the second he parted my folds and ran his tongue over me.
“Goddamn, you taste good,” he said against me, “will you let me taste more? Hmm, Charlie? Can I eat your pretty cunt?”
If I hadn’t already been soaked, I definitely would’ve been with those words. Somehow, I knew he was a dirty talker. “Yes. God, yes.” I could hear myself almost begging, but I didn’t care. If he could get me off in just a few minutes with his hands, I could only imagine what he’d be able to do with his mouth. Or, God help me, his cock.
His tongue touched against my clit and I arched to meet him, hungry for more. He moved a hand to slip his fingers inside me as he gently sucked and licked, his tongue alternately twirling and flicking and sending electric shocks through me. He fucked me with his fingers and mouth, moaning as I tightened around him with my approaching climax. The sound of his voice and the vibration sent me spiraling over the edge.
My entire body still shuddered when he moved back up and kissed me. I could taste myself on his lips as I moved my hands down his chest, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt and shoving it off. I made even quicker work of his belt and the pants he wore. He kicked them to the side, and I was pleased to find he wasn’t wearing any underwear. I took his length into my hands, running my finger over the spongy tip.
I was torn between wanting to take him into my mouth—which would’ve required repositioning, since he was still on top of me—and being desperate to have him inside me. I stroked him in a slow, steady rhythm and watched his eyes go cloudy. He groaned my name as his fingers dug into my hips.
I moved my hands to grip either side of his waist and slowly rubbed myself against him, teasing us both and coating his cock with my cream. I scraped my teeth against his shoulder, nipping at his collarbone as I pumped my hips against his. He looked into my eyes as I moved so his dick pressed against my entrance.
I waited for that first thrust. And I waited. He didn’t move, although I could feel the rest of his body shaking against mine.
I angled my hips and moved a little so the head of his cock slipped inside me, and then pulled away, giving him the chance to take control. He made a humming growl in his chest as he reached to the floor, where his pants lay. My heart jolted a little in fear he was going to get up and leave, but relaxed as I watched him frantically pull a little foil packet from his pocket, mentally giving myself a smack on the head for being so overcome with lust I nearly forgot a damn condom. He unwrapped our protection and slid it on, then maneuvered himself against me.
When he didn’t push into me immediately, I looked up and said quietly, my voice hoarse, “I want you, Evan.”
He thrust inside me and my head fell back against the couch as the rest of my body arched farther against his, straining to be as close to him as possible. He began to move, slowly at first, his eyes locked onto mine.
Evan’s fingers dug into the side of my hip as he appeared to fight for control, to go slow and make our first—only?—time romantic and sweet. I could feel every ridge of his cock as he moved within me. Saw every straining muscle as he battled his urge to move faster, fuck me harder.
I angled my hips toward him as he pulled one of my knees up, sinking deeper. “Feels so fucking good,” I whimpered, “do it again. Just like that.”
He withdrew until just the tip remained within me, then slammed back in to the base, his pelvis bumping against mine.
My hands glided over the muscles of his back; my other leg lifted to lock around his waist as he increased his pace.
“Harder,” I begged, digging my nails deeper into his flesh as his hips pistoned, a low growl in his throat, “Oh God, oh yes, that’s it. Fuck me harder, Evan.”
He moved one of his hands to cup the back of my head, and he threaded his fingers through my hair, grabbing it from underneath the way I like it. He pulled just enough to make me move my head, and I keened with excitement and pleasure. He leaned down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, scraping his teeth over it.
I bucked against him in response, my breath coming in shallow pants and moans. He moved to my other nipple and I let out a low groan. So close.
As I was getting ready to come and undoubtedly have the best orgasm of my life, he stopped moving.
“Please.”
He thrust into me with slow, almost leisurely strokes. My eyes rolled into the back of my head when he pulled all the way out and slowly—pai
nfully slowly—pushed back in.
I started murmuring in Spanish. Endearments. Pleading. Promises. His wicked grin at my last suggestion told me he knew enough gutter Spanish that he understood. When he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, I thanked every deity I could think of as my entire body vibrated in pleasure.
My cries were more desperate, my nails nearly drawing blood as I scraped them over his already raw back. He leaned down and bit my collarbone, hard, as he thrust harder, deeper. My orgasm slammed crashed over me and I sobbed his name as I tightened around him. My climax triggered his, and I heard him moan as he buried his face in my hair, his entire body shuddering.
He collapsed on top of me. We both lay there for a minute, panting and unable to move.
“Holy shit,” I finally managed.
A self-satisfied grin was on his face. “Definitely.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, “Are you okay?”
“More than.” I felt like purring.
“Good. I’m glad…me too.”
I felt him start to harden inside me. My eyes widened. “Again? Already?”
He smiled down at me as he reached to remove the condom and grabbed another from his pocket, “That was round one, beautiful. Where’s your bedroom?”
Later that night, we lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, staring at the ceiling. At least, I was pretty sure it was the ceiling. I might’ve gone blind after the last orgasm for a minute or two.
This should’ve been the part where I climbed out of bed and tossed a witty remark over my shoulder, thanking Evan for all the orgasms and I’d be sure to call him the next time I made it out to his neck of the woods. Realistically, this couldn’t go anywhere. He lived in Tampa, I lived in Houston. World famous wrestler, local newspaper reporter. We were from two entirely different worlds.
Instead, I rolled over and snuggled into his arms when he pulled me toward him. “Stay the night?”
He sleepily kissed the top of my head. “I thought you’d never ask.”