by Hagen, Casey
Evan set the bag next to the can and took the steps two at a time before knocking on the front door, confident that Cole would come out and snatch it the minute he disappeared inside.
Evan waited, ten, twenty, thirty seconds. Shit.
He knocked again. “Blair, it’s me. Open up.”
Another ten seconds went by.
He raised his fist in the air, ready to pound on the door when the lock clicked and she yanked the door open.
The sadness and hurt had disappeared. Her red cheeks and pinched mouth told him that he was about to get a piece of her fired-up mind.
“Listen, I know he’s never done anything to make you believe he’s capable of hurting you, but remember, whoever’s behind this, the ultimate target is your dad. You’re just the way they’re willing to get to him.”
“I get that. I’ve been living with this mess just as long as you’ve been investigating it. What I don’t get is where you get off yelling at me?”
“I’m sorry. I tried to warn you about me. I tried to make you see—”
“Cut it out,” she said, dropping her hands on her hips. “I’m not a child so don’t treat me like one.”
“It’s not about being a child, it’s about you being good and my being all wrong for you.”
She pointed a finger at him and tossed her hair. “This is about you trying to retreat from what’s between us.”
“I’d rather have you as a friend than turn this into something more where you’ll eventually resent me, and then I won’t have you at all.”
She marched right up to him, fearless, ready to battle, with her shoulders back and leaning into him. “You’d rather retreat than face what is. You’re afraid,” she said, throwing the words at him.
Retreat.
The word stabbed his pride. He’d never retreated from anything. “I am not,” he said as he squelched a flash of temper that had his blood surging through his veins.
“Oh, yes, you are. You use all this talk of my glow and positive energy as a wall between us. As an excuse to run.”
“I’ve never run from anything,” he growled.
“Until now. I deserve to be loved the way I love. I had hoped you were the man strong enough to do it. I guess I was wrong,” she said, whirling away from him and marching toward the hall.
“Where are you going?”
She shot a sultry grin over her shoulder. “I’m going to go practice a little self-love. So much for your fingers being the next ones inside me.”
Chapter 10
Blair shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it while her racing heart pounded behind her ribs.
She’d never been one to show much of a temper, and she’d told herself, when the time came and Evan tried to retreat, she’d be the mature one and give him an out.
She’d be kind.
She’d show him understanding.
So where this wanton woman came from, who’d all but laid down a sexual dare at Evan’s reluctant feet, she hadn’t a clue.
Oh, but she liked her.
Finally, a man had walked into her life that had everything she could ever want in a lover, a partner, and she wasn’t giving that up without a fight.
She wouldn’t live the rest of her life with regret, agonizing over the things she should have said, but was too nice to say.
Words held power, and she’d wielded hers.
Let’s just see how his willpower held up under the assault.
Her gaze landed on the fluffy, down comforter of her king-sized bed. She rolled her lips inward before letting them pop free, grabbed the hem of her dress, and pulled it right over her head, tossing it on the floor at her feet.
Silence filled the charged air, and she wondered if Evan still stood frozen right to the spot where she’d left him.
Well, if so, he was about to discover a whole new kind of torment because she’d been careful to be quiet last night as she gave herself pleasure, but tonight, she’d let it all go.
Let’s see how that restraint held up under throaty moans and screams of pure satisfaction.
Maybe not as pure as if his hands roamed her skin, his tongue licking between her hot thighs, but she’d gotten good at this—it would be enough.
She skimmed her fingertips over one aching nipple and shivered. The A/C unit kicked on, and cold air flowed out of the vent and washed over her, tightening those peaks even more.
Cold, but oh so hot, she hooked her fingers around the strings of her bikinis and glided the fabric down her thighs, finally tossing them on the floor at the foot of her bed.
She yanked back the covers, eager to slip inside as her fevered skin begged to be touched, claimed...
Savored.
Desire took over modesty, shaking loose the confines of what society considered proper.
She craved sinful release.
Climbing onto the bed, first one knee, then the next, each innocent action turned wicked in the absence of clothing, she focused on the heat, the way her skin tingled, and the moisture slickening between her thighs.
Her bedroom door slammed open, the edge smacking against the jewelry stand next to it, and she smiled.
A feral smile.
She’d won.
On her hands and knees, her ass in the air, every female secret she possessed on full display of the doorway, she declared victory.
She couldn’t have planned it any better if she’d tried.
Did he plan to drive home his point?
Joke was on him if he had.
Checkmate.
He growled, not the way he had before in frustration, but the low, guttural sound of a man seething with resentment for his crushing defeat.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like a little privacy.” She tossed the words over her shoulder without sparing him a glance.
Something about his attraction to her, the way he burst in, the energy of raw need pulsing between them, boosted her confidence in a way nothing else could, leaving her brazen and feisty.
The door slammed again, and his boots thudded along her floor.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The air shifted and a second later, his hot tongue licked into her.
She sucked in a breath, her thighs quivering at the assault as the tip of his tongue flicked her clit at the start of each swipe before gliding back.
All the way back.
Her belly clenched as she panted, her mind telling her not to surrender, even as her needy body greedily took.
His fingertips dug into her ass as he fit his hot mouth over her and danced his tongue over the bundle of nerves coiling with pleasure. Laving her over and over, until she reached the brink, then abandoning her wet heat to nip at the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, he drove her mad.
She cried out, a sound of sheer frustration tearing from her throat as the orgasm taunted her, just out of reach.
He hooked his hands under her hips, lifted, and slid onto the bed under her, settling her over his lap. “Look at me,” he said in that low, penetrating way of his that left you doing exactly as he commanded. His hands moved over her cheeks, squeezing, massaging, his thumb occasionally slipping between the two and teasing over her.
She turned and laid her head on the bed, her mass of curls drifting over her face.
With his thumb sliding back and forth over her wet lips now, he gathered her hair with the other hand and pushed it away from her, forcing her to look him in the eye as he played with her.
He abandoned the heart of her and sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth, making a loud pop when he pulled them back out, slick with moisture from his mouth.
“I always mean what I say,” he said as he buried his thick fingers deep, stretching her.
Changing her.
Changing them.
Blair groaned, the sharp pinch of pain making her wince before a wave of pure lust coursed through her, obliterating the sting. When she finally managed to force her eyelids open, she found him staring at
the hand between her legs, the muscle in his cheek jumping, and worry in those amber depths.
“Evan,” she whispered, the sound as though it were forced past ground up shards of glass.
“Did I hurt you?” The words came tearing from a place deep inside, a lonely place where anguish kept him company during his darkest moments.
She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. Even inside her, a part of him retreated.
“Hey,” she said, reaching up to brush his arm. The minute her fingers curled over his biceps, her muscles squeezed around his fingers, and his gaze snapped to hers.
“Stay with me, Evan. Please. You didn’t hurt me.” She needed to pull him back from the shadows that threatened to drag him to another time, another place, always waiting to steal what happiness he managed to find for himself. “But if you don’t hurry up and finish what you started, I might have to hurt you.”
He blinked once. Twice.
Digging her palms into the mattress, she pushed back onto his fingers and hissed when the tips curled against her g-spot. The pressure combined with the way his thighs pressed into her belly heightened the sensation, leaving starbursts in her lust-hazed vision.
“Don’t stop, Evan. Please,” she begged. No man had ever come close to setting in motion the feelings, the wanting, that Evan had in her.
He dragged his fingers almost completely out of her and plummeted them deep all over again.
She whimpered, her hands curling into fists around the sheets under her.
His thumb skimmed against her clit over and over.
Sweat rose from her skin.
Her lungs heaved with the explosion looming inside her. Back and forth he glided in, out, his thumb grazing her folds, before circling the bundle of nerves, his pace relentless, proving her wrong.
She could have never given herself this.
Not ever.
The sensation took over, pleasure and pain, leaving her body spasming. A scream tore from her raw throat as she exploded on him, her inner muscles locking like a vice on his soaked fingers.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and slid out from under her. The sound of his zipper and her ragged breaths a testament to what had been and what was yet to come.
Words.
She had none.
One boot, then the other tumbled onto the floor with two thumps.
Helpless to do more than lay there as shivers shook her, she waited on baited breath to see what he had in store for her.
The whoosh of jeans landing on the floor came next.
She squeezed her thighs together.
Cotton tearing came next.
She squeezed her eyes shut and held on.
Rough palms slid up her calves and over her thighs. With a hard yank, he flipped her onto her back, his eyes blazing a trail over every last inch of her.
He bit his lip.
She knew the feeling.
Solid from head to toe, his tan muscles bunched and flexed as his fingers roamed over her. He lowered his mouth between her thighs, pressing a French kiss to her pussy that had her arching off the bed seeking more.
He grunted, his lips climbing over her ribs, his teeth caught on her taut nipple, his mouth finally finding a home slanted over hers, giving her a taste of her heated arousal on his hot tongue.
Locking his arms, he knelt between her legs, her thighs wrapped around him.
He yanked her hips until his cock lay poised at her entrance ready to take. “Are you on the pill?”
“I’m covered,” she assured him.
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, his eyes hot on hers.
The confession danced on the edge of her tongue. She couldn’t lie to him. Oh, how she wished she could.
Pain sliced into her, and her throat grew thick with tears. “I can’t have children.”
His lips parted, his eyes softened. “Blair,” he whispered, the sound broken, a lot like her heart. He cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to the other as a hot tear rolled down her skin.
Curled around her, whispering tender words against her skin, drinking the tears that followed, he thrust into her, his thick length so much more than those fingers of his.
Cradling her head in his tender hands, he set his hips in motion and whisked her away.
* * *
Everything became crystal clear with Blair’s admission and at her painful words, he let go of the ledge he’d been dangling over and fell recklessly in love with her.
She gave her heart selflessly to those kids each and every day knowing that she could never hold on to them forever.
She’d love. She’d lose.
She would have done the same for him if that’s what he wanted.
What he needed.
He’d never leave her side again. If she could brave the hurt love caused, so could he.
Because there so many more good times. Moments of absolute euphoria with her arms around him, holding him tight as if she would never let him go.
He rocked into her, the salt of her tears on his lips, her heat surrounding him, and the need for release clawing at his spine.
“Please, please, please, make me forget” she whispered before taking his mouth in a desperate kiss, her tongue skimming against his.
She squeezed him and cried out, freeing his mouth. On the brink of oblivion, she thrust her hips against his as though reaching for pleasure just out of reach.
Sucking her taut nipple into his mouth, he laced his fingers with hers, and anchored their joined hands to the mattress. He drove into her with everything he had, his own release barreling at him, and a vow in his heart that somehow, someway, Blair would have those children she dreamed of.
Tossing his head, with her screaming below him, his own orgasm burst free, prompting a guttural shout with every surge, his release spilling into the heart of her.
He eased her thighs from around him and rolled onto his back, making sure to keep her tucked into him as he did.
Ravaged by tears, by him, she curled against his chest, pressing kisses along his ribs, the sight of her pinching his heart.
She looked so small nestled there. And hurt.
He traced a line from her forehead to her temple and nudged aside a wayward curl. “Hey,” he said, wanting to look in her eyes.
She blinked up at him but remained silent.
“You should have told me,” he said.
She pushed herself up on her elbow and scoffed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. It’s important to who you are,” he said, tugging her back along his side, skin to skin.
“We’ve been in each other’s company for all of two days, and I was supposed to talk to you about having kids one day? I don’t think so.”
“I don’t see why it would be an issue when you had already looked into monogrammed towels.”
“What!” she shoved away from him and sat on the mattress facing him with the comforter pulled over her chest.
“The monogrammed towels. At your dad’s house on the day of the barbecue,” he said.
“The monogrammed towels I’d considered ordering for my dad? Would those be the towels you’re referring to?” she asked with an arched brow.
“They were for us. The initials E and B.”
“Yes, they were E and B. For Elle and Bruce.”
Uh.
Well, hell.
She aimed a finger at him. “Oh. My. God. That was the day you started pulling away from me. It was the towels, wasn’t it?”
He shook his head, feeling like a total moron. “Not at all.”
“Lies.”
“Okay, they freaked me out,” he said with a shrug.
“They weren’t for us,” she said with a snarl that let him know just what she thought of his idiocy. “And didn’t you say once when we first dated that you almost got married? So why all of a sudden are you allergic to feelings?”
He forgot he’d told her about that. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“We had only been
dating a month. Why would I have been looking at monogrammed towels?”
“I don’t know. Your mom is gone, why were you looking for them?”
“Because they were just like the ones my dad got my mom for their wedding. He refuses to use anything else in the guest bathroom despite how ratty-looking they are. I thought if I could get the same thing, he could salvage what’s left of the old ones and pack them away.”
“Okay, I get it. I fucked up. Eventually I would have tried to pull away anyway.”
“Because of your past.”
It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t giving him a way to say no.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And now? Should I prepare my heart for goodbye?”
Fuck no. At least not if he had his way, but he had to feel her out. Had to make sure. “That depends. Do you think you can handle all of me, even my ugly past?”
“I’ve never had any doubt as to what I could handle. That was you,” she said.
“Fair enough.”
“Can you tell me about it? Help me understand.”
He knocked his head back against the headboard with a sigh. “I’m afraid every time you look at me, you’ll see…that.”
“Every time I look at you, the first thing I’m going to see are those damned monogrammed towels.”
He burst out with a laugh that freed something inside him. For the first time in over a decade, he didn’t wonder if when he closed his eyes that night, the images of that time would come back to him, terrorizing him, making him wake up in a pool of his own sweat.
She took his hand and squeezed, a soft smile playing over her lips. “Please. Just help me understand.”
“We were stationed in Pakistan with radical groups just waiting to move in and seize control. A local family befriended us. Their daughter, Aisha, tended to me when I came down with a horrible fever.”
He’d never forget the one time in his life he was sick in a third world country. Unable to hold anything down, the pain in his head, so much pressure filling his skull, it felt as though his eyes bulged from their sockets with the force of it.