“Don’t say you have some pie.”
Typical Evaleen. Even post orgasm she was still a smart-ass.
I smiled. “I do love pie.”
She blushed and turned her head. The sexual rush was wearing off. Was she regretting doing this with me? I hoped not because I wanted to do this again and again. However many times she wanted to do it with me was the exact amount I would too.
“Thank you. You know, for helping me.” Evaleen turned her head back to me but she focused her attention on her fingers grazing through the sparse hairs on my chest.
I grabbed her fingers and pulled them to my lips, kissing and sucking on them. I moved down her arm before making it to her neck and catching her earlobe in my teeth.
“Evaleen, please don’t thank me. I should be thanking you. That was the most incredible, sensual time I have ever had with anyone.”
I leaned back and saw her cheeks darken even more. “I think you know it was the best orgasm I have ever had. And, well, the best anything really.”
Her eyes came back to me but they moved down my body before widening.
“Uh, Edgar. Shouldn’t we take care of you?” Evaleen pointed to my angry hard-on that tented my briefs.
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it in the bathroom. This night was about you.”
Finally, she lifted her eyes to mine, holding my stare. “Are you serious? You are going to go jack off in the bathroom while a perfectly good woman is in your bed? If I took off my bra I would be naked. So not just a perfectly good woman, but an almost naked perfectly good woman.”
I watched the little indent between her brows deepen as I eased back, putting my hands behind my head. Evaleen was sexy when she got feisty.
I knew deep down she would find out that Jacob never said she had to go to London. In a way, I took a sick pleasure working her up.
“You forgot sexy. One perfectly good and sexy almost naked woman. And beautiful. So, one perfectly good and beautiful and sexy almost naked woman. And smart. We forgot that too—”
“Okay Edgar, I get it. So? What do you want me to do?” Evaleen waved her hands over my body like a model at a car show.
“Whatever you’d like.”
That really pissed her off. She groaned and rolled her eyes. Which only made my cock twitch.
“Come on, Edgar, I’m serious. You know I don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, I have given a blow job before but—”
“Okay, I’ll take that.”
She titled her head. “Huh? Oh, you mean you want a blow job. Okay.” Evaleen slapped her hands together before rubbing them. She reached for my briefs but stopped. Evaleen changed positions a few times, always staring at my crotch. I began to feel like she was trying to figure out the solution to the United States deficit and not getting ready to give head.
“Why don’t you start by taking off my briefs?”
She snapped her fingers. “Good start.”
I helped her by lifting my hips as she removed them and tossed them aside. As she turned back, her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Edgar, you’re huge.”
Smirking, I grabbed the base of my cock and gave it a slow stroke. “Ah shucks, I bet you say that to all the guys. Wait. Don’t answer that.”
“No, I mean, how does that even, you know,” Evaleen lowered her voice and bent closer to my cock, “fit inside of this? Do you ever hurt women?” She pointed to her upper thighs before frowning.
“No, I never hurt a woman. It will fit, Evaleen. Think about it. Women give birth to babies. And while I am flattered you consider my cock large, I am not so arrogant as to assume it’s the size of a baby.”
She nodded but weariness lingered on her features.
“Logically, that makes sense, but I don’t know. I guess it’s my naïveté showing.”
“No, it’s fine.” I propped myself up on my elbow and rubbed her arm. “Look, why don’t we call it a night. I meant what I said earlier, this night was about you. Maybe I take a rain check on the blow job.”
As strong as Evaleen appeared, this might have been a little overwhelming for her. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to the idea of her lips wrapped around my cock. But she needed to be cared for. And that’s what I wanted to do for her.
“Oh, okay. I see what you mean.” Her eyes dimmed. “Maybe I should go.”
TWENTY-SIX
Evaleen
Edgar sat there with those dimples on display. His laugh was always smooth, confident, and utterly seductive.
With every chuckle, I felt my insides twist and flip as if the Olympics were being held in my stomach.
How should I act?
His assistant, John, moved to the row of spacious first-class seats in front of Edgar, leaving the seat next to him vacant. The plane was filling up with me as one of the remaining passengers to board.
Things felt off when I left Edgar’s home last night. He was surprised by my request to leave, but what was the point of staying? Edgar obviously didn’t want anything from me. I couldn’t blame him. I don’t really know what I’m doing in the bedroom, and then I take one look at his penis and freak out.
He came in the cab with me to make sure I made it home safely. I spent the entire ride back to my place replaying how mortifyingly shocked I was when he removed his briefs. Each time I cringed a little bit more.
My fingers drifted over the soft leather of the top of the seat I stood next to but paused before reaching Edgar’s row. There were only two seats in each row in first class. Edgar couldn’t see me approaching as he turned back to the front. Whatever relief I felt when he turned his back to me was fleeting as I already knew my seat number.
Glancing around I noticed the only empty seat was next to Payne. Perhaps I could suck it up and deal with Payne for the thirteen-hour flight.
Payne must have read my mind because he turned and narrowed his eyes at me. His caveman jaw ticked daring me to move closer.
“Oh, thank goodness I made it.” A very out of breath Morgana knocked me from behind.
“Hey, Drake. Are you sitting next to Payne?”
She dug around in her black leather bag. There were cellophane wrappers falling out. She pulled out her ticket. “Here it says seat 3A. That is right—”
“Next to Payne.”
“Oh, so it is. Great.” Her lips thinned as she sighed. She appeared tired despite the flush of her cheeks. That gave me hope that perhaps Morgana would be willing to switch with me for the flight?
I glanced back at Payne and watched him scrape his fingers through his dark brown hair probably making dandruff fall all around him. Then he began fidgeting with the light and fan above him. On and off. On and off. Then, on and off.
Nope. Couldn’t do it. Drake would be the brave soul dealing with that annoying twat.
It was time for me to face the man who gave me the best sexual experience of my life so I could run away from him. Because that’s what I do.
“Excuse me,” I said as I came to stand next to Edgar’s seat.
Edgar glanced up with a gleam in his eyes only to see me. It faded away. My throat tightened and I wanted to run again. I wanted to trek back up the cold loading ramp and leave this place, not take my seat by the window as Edgar rose to give me room.
After I sat, I made myself busy putting my navy leather purse away and getting out my book.
“So, you come here often?” Edgar said.
I looked up from my book to find him winking at me.
“What?”
He sat there staring at me with his dimples on display.
“Are you feeling okay, Edgar?”
“Of course, I feel fine. I am stuck in a giant metal cylinder for half a day with a beautiful woman.” He winked again and then frowned. As if he was rethinking the wink. “I didn’t mean I’m stuck. I meant once we are in the air I guess technically we can’t get out. Oh no, you don’t have a fear of flying, do you?”
His breathing picked up so rapidl
y I thought he might be projecting. Maybe he was the one with the fear of flying. I lowered my steamy romance to my lap and placed a hand on his arm assessing his odd behavior.
“No, no, Edgar. Of course, I don’t have a fear of flying. It’s the twenty-first century. They have made many improvements in airplanes. Do you need me to hold your hand while we take off?”
He nodded slowly but didn’t say anything. I reached for his hand. It was warm, his grip firm, and as my thumb glided over his palm, I couldn’t help but think of last night.
“See, nothing to be worried about.”
I wondered if I said that for his sake or for mine.
“I already feel better. Thank you, Evaleen.”
An announcement came over the loudspeaker as the flight attendant made her speech about the doors closing and in a few minutes, we would begin taxiing down the runway. Edgar’s grip tightened around my hand.
“You know what would help even more, Evaleen?”
He leaned his head toward me. I felt his hot breath tickle my neck. Again, images of him licking his fingers last night crept into my head as he spoke.
“What?” My voice deep and breathy.
“If you sat on my lap during takeoff.”
I yanked my hand from his. “You aren’t afraid of flying at all are you, Edgar?”
Edgar’s dimples rose as his mouth curved. “No, I’m not. But I never said I was.”
“You nodded your head at me.”
Edgar held up a finger. “But I never said anything. I can’t control what my head does on its own accord.”
I turned to face him, my book falling to my feet. “Yes, you can. You did that on purpose. Just so I would touch you.”
“You didn’t mind me touching you last night.” He moved closer as I tried to jerk away but I butted up against the airplane window.
Edgar whispered in my ear, “In fact, I think I remember you saying please a few times. Begging me to touch you.”
My heart raced and I was ready to jump from my seat just from the tickle of his breath on my neck. My thighs felt rubbery, overly sensitive, under the navy wool fabric of my skirt and I was glad I wasn’t standing.
I remembered what I said to him. I remembered every millisecond of last night. Once I got home after he dropped me off was a pathetic recreation of what he did to me with my own hand—his lips, his tongue, and his fingers between my legs. It didn’t work. And I lost a lot of sleep trying.
“That, uh, that was last night. This is a business trip.”
I hoped he couldn’t feel my body vibrating toward him. That no one glanced over to find my sweaty neck and racing chest. This was a business trip and as much as I would melt from a single touch of his finger, I had to keep it together.
Edgar pulled back, his gray eyes appraising me. He must know. The man knew a woman’s body, all its signs of arousal. I probably wasn’t much different. He was the man who was able to give me something no man has ever given me before. That carrot that dangled just out of reach for so many years.
“You’re right, Evaleen. Last night was last night. You needed an orgasm and I provided it; now we move on, right?”
Wrong.
“Right,” I said.
Edgar only saw me as another conquest. I gave him a challenge and he conquered it; now it was time to move on.
I bent down to pick up my book and pretended to read it. My eyes blurred and as the plane jetted forward, I used the excuse to turn my head toward the window. A few tears fell but he didn’t see.
At least I got an orgasm. Now I knew what I was missing.
After about ten minutes, the plane took off and my ears clogged. Instead of trying to yawn to pop them, I embraced the muffled sounds. It was the closest thing I had to running away. I lifted my book and decided to lose myself in a happy ending. Even if the characters weren’t real, it felt good knowing that someone could get their happily ever after.
I turned my head when I heard Edgar. He was talking to me but the sound was muffled like I was under water. I finally yawned to pop my ears.
“What?”
Edgar relaxed back in his seat with his head turned toward me. His hand drifted to his chest as he unbuttoned two buttons from his light blue dress shirt to get comfortable for the long ride. My eyes couldn’t help but drift to the small tuft of blond hair peeking out from his chest.
“The book. What are you reading?” he asked.
“Oh, just a romance. Nothing you would be interested in.”
I turned back to the book about the data analyst and her hero, the famous action star.
“Oh, so since I’m a man I wouldn’t be interested in romance? That’s very sexist of you, Evaleen.”
I frowned and put down my book. “I’m sorry, Edgar. I didn’t realize you liked romance. Most men I have come in contact with don’t like it. In fact, there are a lot of people out there who don’t even consider romance ‘real writing’ and only call it ‘mommy porn.’”
He nodded his head and sighed. “They’re just ignorant. I bet every one of those people who slammed it has never read a romance in their life. It’s easy to judge what you don’t know.”
I was surprised by Edgar’s revelation. In my head, I thought of him more of a thriller reader, but I guess that was me judging him again.
“What authors do you like?” I was curious if he was only saying that to me to flirt again or if he really did read romance. If he could only name one or two famous authors I would know he was lying. Most people knew at least one famous romance author, but a true fan could name dozens, if not hundreds.
His eyes widened with what I could only guess was fear. Fear that I caught him in his flirting lie.
“Well?” I couldn’t help but smirk. Something about having the upper hand on him made me giddy. I was terrible.
Then to my utter surprise, he started naming at least ten different romance authors. Some of them weren’t even bestsellers. Mostly he named books as he couldn’t remember the authors.
But it was the last book he named that caused my ears to burn.
“I picked up a book the end of last year and loved it. It’s called When a Laird Comes Calling. I can’t remember the author’s name, but I ended up reading a lot more of her books. Have you heard of the book?”
I swallowed but nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”
“Oh, do you know who the author is?”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself for my reply, “Yeah, it’s me.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Edgar
Evaleen was joking.
She must have been joking. She thought I was making fun of her liking romance, and now she was pretending to be a romance author.
“What do I have to do to convince you I like romance? Dress up like a romance hero? Here look.” I reached under my seat pulling out my black leather bag. In it I had the latest book I was reading. I held it up to her. “See, The Mighty Scotsman in Disguise. I even dog-eared the page I’m on.”
“Oh my God.” She flung herself back as if I threw a spider at her.
I shook my head. “It’s just a book, Evaleen. It’s not going to hurt you.”
Why can’t a guy like romance? When I told Henrik a few years ago he laughed at me for an hour. Of course, he had the emotional maturity of an earwig so I didn’t expect anything better.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whisper-screamed at me, pushing the book back.
“Why are you doing this to me, Evaleen? So what if I read,” I lifted the book and read the author’s name, “Annabelle Blacksmith’s books? It’s the twenty-first century; I don’t have to live the stereotype of only reading thriller or sci-fi or books about war. I enjoy reading about human emotion and relationships. Plus, I like ending a book with a smile on my face.”
“Okay. It’s not that I don’t believe you, Edgar. Did you not hear what I said? I’m the author. I’m Annabelle Blacksmith.”
I laughed as she stared at me. The laughter died as I real
ized she was telling the truth. Evaleen Bechmann, the most in control and sexually repressed woman I had ever met, wrote romance novels. Not just that, but she wrote some of the steamiest sex scenes I had ever read.
If she was a virgin, how could she write that?
Either she was lying about being the author or about being a virgin. I could handle the joke about being an author, but if she was making up being a virgin then I felt used. I don’t understand why she would say that just to get me in bed?
I would have been happy to have sex with her last night. In fact, I was hoping to have her last night until she mentioned she was a virgin.
Maybe that was it. She didn’t want to have sex with me. She was horny and I was there, but she didn’t want to go all the way with me.
“So, if you are a virgin, Evaleen, how could you write those sex scenes? Huh?”
Evaleen groaned. “Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know about the birds and the bees. I know how things work down there, and I’ve read enough romance books to get a good idea of what readers want to see when their characters get down to it.”
As everything sunk in I decided she wasn’t lying. About anything. Evaleen was a virgin and a romance writer. And she was good at what she wrote.
Evaleen Bechmann had a very dirty mind.
My eyes slid down her body as I imagined what lace she had hidden under her dark blue suit. I suddenly wanted to find out the color. Perhaps reenact a few of the scenes she wrote.
“I bet you have a lot of fans.” I kept staring at her pants.
“I guess I do. I love them. I have a group on Facebook called Annabelle’s Addicts. They’re great. Sometimes I feel I can tell them things I can’t tell anyone else.”
That caught my attention. “You have friends though. I see you talking to Morgana a lot. And those women from yesterday. Can’t you talk to them?”
“I could but I don’t. It’s not them, Edgar. It’s me. I know I’m not the friendliest person out there. Sometimes I feel like . . .” she stopped as a blush warmed her cheeks, “. . . oh, you don’t want to hear this. Like I said, you aren’t my therapist.” Evaleen was smiling except for her eyes.
The Attraction File (Cake Love Book 2) Page 13