“Sorry, the who?”
“The impostor! The new one.” All she was missing was a gob of spit aimed at the floor.
“Pope Francis,” Tyler said, by way of explanation. “No one can hold a candle to his Holiness John Paul II.”
“Saint John Paul,” Mrs. Novak corrected with a glare at Tyler.
“Evie’s staying the night because of the weather,” Tyler said, eager to get it out of the way. “She’ll take my bed and I’ll be on the sofa.”
“Oh, no,” Evie said, wrapping herself around his waist and pressing her curves to his chest. So soft and supple, beautiful tits he wanted to suck deep and long. Christ, not now. Not ever. “I can’t take your bed,” she added. “You can sleep with me, cuddle like we did in college.”
Tyler backed her up through the door, pleading with her to play ball, rather than torment his actual fucking balls. “Not at all. You’re a guest in my home. Bed for you, sofa for me.”
“Oh, right!” She winked, but because she was half drunk and had always had trouble winking, it came off weird. Evie’s wink action consisted of a slow, deliberate close of both eyes and a quick flash open. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.” Followed by another ill-conceived wink.
“Lovely to meet you, Mrs.—”
“Novak,” Tyler finished. “I’ll shovel the walk in the morning, Mrs. N. Before you head out to church. And please don’t leave that candle lit overnight. It could cause a fire.”
“You’re a good boy, Tyler,” she said with a smile. “I’ll make kremówka for you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mrs. N.” That cake was amazing, but damn, it meant an extra mile on his run. If he could only get his exercise some other way…
His gaze tracked Evie, who had started heading up the stairs, giving him a prime view of her heart-shaped ass in those tight jeans. His right hand would definitely get its exercise tonight.
He bounded up the stairs after her to find her leaning on the door to his apartment.
“Thanks for letting me stay, farm boy. I promise I won’t be a bother.”
Tyler’s snort made her laugh.
“Just kidding. You know how high maintenance I am.”
She wasn’t really. She just used it as an excuse whenever a guy let her down. Inside the door, she bent over to take off her boots, hinging her hips in such a way that her ass was there, right there, and he could have gripped it, pulled it close, ground his cock against the seam.
He shook his head, trying to scatter those thoughts to the outside where they could be frozen by the storm. This was Evie he was fantasizing about. His friend. His girl. Not that way, but the best way.
The best way would be Evie under me, her body arching into mine as I fuck her hard and to the root…
Her shoes hit the mud mat he kept inside the door with a soft thud.
“Let me give you the quick tour—”
But she was already off, commenting on everything from the Ikea furniture—I have this coffee table!—to the worn paperbacks lining his shelves—Stephen King, the master!—to the framed art on the walls.
“Hey, you put them up.”
She’d sent him photos of Roman ruins, not the typical touristy spots but what looked like secret parts of the city, hidden portals to an ancient time. He’d framed them as a set and hung them over the bookcase with track lighting to spotlight them.
“Of course I did. They’re a piece of you.”
She turned to him with eyes wide and suspiciously shiny. “God, I’ve missed you, Ty.” And then she was in his arms just like it was meant to be. The girl of his dreams, the girl he wanted more than anything, the girl he…needed to not take advantage of when she was tipsy and melancholy.
Gently, he pushed her back, putting much-needed space between his dick and her tight body. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”
…
For the first time in forever, Evie felt safe. But then Tyler had always made her feel this way. No pressure to perform, no hoops to jump through, no good impressions to maintain. He was the most accepting person in her life, even more so than her father, who was a total peach but still rocked a serious case of dad-judgment because it was ingrained in his DNA.
He’d hung her photos. She’d sent them last summer in padded envelopes, never expecting he’d go to all this trouble. But he had. Taken this little piece of her and made it front and center.
Her mind was a riot of hormones and emotions. If the night had gone differently, that girl in the bar, the one he’d obviously been interested in but didn’t want to be rude to Evie about, might have been the one standing in Evie’s place. Looking at Evie’s photos. Pulling Tyler by the hand to the bedroom. Running her hands all over his pale, hard body.
Good thing Evie had cock-blocked the fuck out of the situation. You go, girl!
She suppressed a giggle at the thought. Evie as cock-blocker. Evie blocking Tyler’s cock. Evie with her hand and her mouth and her tongue on…
“Evie! C’mere,” Tyler called out from farther into the apartment.
She followed the voice to his bedroom, a typical man cave with hunter green bedding and movie posters on the wall. Quentin Tarantino flicks, for the most part, just like college. Guys took a long time—or never—to develop any sense of décor. The bedside lamp gave the room a soft, fuzzy glow.
Tyler held up a long-sleeved CFD tee. “Will this work? I have flannel PJs too, but they’re probably too big for you. The sheets are flannel, though, and you should be warm enough.”
Would be warmer with you.
She swallowed, feeling like she might have said that out loud, but Tyler wasn’t looking at her weirdly. He wasn’t looking at her at all.
“So this is where all the action happens,” she said, suddenly nervous.
He snorted again. “Yeah, me and my right hand.” Then he blushed, likely because Tyler rarely made jokes about sex. She was the one with the dirty mouth.
Her gaze scanned the room, alighting on a framed pic of Tyler with his parents on the day he graduated from the Fire Academy. There was a photo booth four-strip of Tyler and Evie tucked into the frame.
“No wonder you’re not getting any. If you’re scaring off the girls with photos of another girl.” Warmth infused her chest at the idea she might be cock-blocking even when she wasn’t here. The power!
“No one’s made it this far, Evie. No one but you.”
Oh. Her breathing picked up, and her feet shuffled forward.
“Remember how we used to cuddle on my bed in my dorm room watching True Blood?”
She remembered. She remembered that feeling of envelopment, with Tyler’s big body wrapped around her, his comforting scent her oxygen, his soothing words telling her how talented and beautiful she was—usually after some guy had screwed her over.
He swallowed, seemed to shudder. “Yeah.”
“You were great at cuddling. Nice arm action, not too tight, made me feel safe.”
What about the rest? Would he be good at the “fucking until she was exhausted” part? That damn dream. The damn wine. And Tyler himself, looking so damn hot and all grown up.
“We’re not in college anymore, Evie.” The words emerged from his throat with a rough rawness she couldn’t recall hearing before. What did he mean? That they couldn’t go back to how good it was before? Or that maybe they could finally cross that line?
“I know—”
“You just broke up with Paulo, and you’re feeling a bit lonely. I’m here for you. I’m always here for you…”
“But…” Because she could hear it as clear as day.
“But nothing. I’m here. Let’s talk in the morning.”
Okay. If that’s what he wanted. But she wasn’t so sure it was. All night, he’d been watching her, inching his body closer. Even when Ferrari stopped by, he hadn’t seemed to mind when Evie “claimed” him.
She stepped in, ostensibly to take the tee out of his hands, but really just to get close. To see the pulse beating at th
e base of his throat. To hear that hitch in his breathing. To watch as the color flushed his skin.
“Anyone would think you’re afraid to be alone with me, Ty.”
Those gorgeous blue eyes, the color of Lake Michigan in summer, darkened.
“I’ve been alone with you plenty of times. I’ve cuddled with you, held you close, breathed you in—”
“And never once taken advantage.”
“You’re my friend. My best friend.”
She placed a hand on his chest, absorbed the th-thunk of his heart. “You don’t think of me in that way.”
But I do. She realized she always had, but Tyler had belonged to another woman back then. Not anymore.
“You’re gorgeous, Evie. Absolutely perfect. A man would have to be mad not to see how sexy and special you are.”
Sexy and special. The words thrummed through her, lighting fires in her blood. I’m not drunk, she insisted. Not drunk at all.
“I had a sex dream about you.”
But she was drunk enough to say that.
Chapter Five
Tyler stared at Evie, flabbergasted at what had just popped out of her mouth. She was yanking his chain, surely.
“Well, that was a conversation-killer.” She laughed, her cheeks blooming with heat, though nowhere near how his cheeks were a raging inferno of embarrassment.
“You’re kidding.”
“Why would I kid about something like that? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. You’re a big part of my life, you’re hot and built, and women have fantasies.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Tyler blurted, as much to excuse his own fantasies that had been running riot for days. Months. Years. “It’s just a proximity thing.”
“Right.” She laughed again, and he laughed along with her.
The laughter petered out and silence descended over them. Evie’d had a sex dream—about him? What was he doing in this dream? Was he touching her beautiful tits, shaping her hips, gripping that ass he’d dreamed of? Was he licking her pussy, sucking on her clit?
Was he balls-deep inside her, filling her to the hilt?
His cock thickened. He had to shut this down before…before what? Before he took what she’d shared as an invitation to make that sex dream come to life, here, in his bedroom where his fantasies had played out in his filthy, Evie-filled imagination.
“Evie, I—”
“I know.” She rubbed his chest. Oh God. Please don’t. “It was just a dream. I don’t know why I even said anything. Maybe I like seeing you blush.”
Every cell in his body froze. He got it now. Definitely yanking his chain.
“Bathroom’s through there. Spare toothbrush in the drawer. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Tyler…” She blinked up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t say it to make fun of you. I’m just—well, too forward for my own good. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not—I’m”—turned on as fuck—“just tired. And I need to get up early to shovel for Mrs. Novak, because she goes to seven a.m. mass, so I should get to sleep. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me.”
Be sure to tell me about the next sex dream you have. Not.
“Okay. Thanks, farm boy.”
“No problem, city girl.”
Tyler gave her a thin smile, grabbed his sweats, and scrambled out the door.
…
She was right next door, sleeping in his tee, in his bed. Tomorrow, he’d smell her scent on his sheets. Tonight, he’d imagine what it would be like if he joined her. Maybe she’d have a nightmare and he’d race in to soothe her. Maybe she’d say she was cold and needed his body heat. Maybe…nothing.
The sofa wasn’t that uncomfortable. Many a time, he’d crashed on it after a twenty-four-hour shift, unable to move the extra few feet to his bedroom. He rubbed his palm over his chest, his abs, and his cock, which was wide awake after all the provocative talk.
A sex dream. Why would she tell him about that? Pure Evie, he supposed. A chronic over-sharer, not that he minded. He loved being her ear, loved being the one she felt comfortable confiding in. She’d told him once that she shared more with him than any of her boyfriends. Tyler and Evie were soul mates, and not all soul mates had to be lovers.
But this soul wanted to be mated with hers. Wanted to be connected at every point: chest to chest, hip to hip, buried deep so that there was no doubt she belonged to him.
His cock jumped at that idea. She belonged to him.
“Tyler.”
He sat up, pushed at his dick to flatten it, which of course didn’t work. At least he had the blanket.
“You okay? Thought you’d be asleep.”
“I can’t. I keep thinking I embarrassed you and that I didn’t really react to your news the best way.” She moved in, giving him the perfect view of her strong, tanned legs peeking out of his T-shirt, which was thankfully long enough to come to mid thigh.
He pulled back the blanket, inviting her to sit on the sofa and snuggle in. She took it. Just like those days in college when they belonged to other people. Now they were free agents.
“You reacted fine, Evie. But you know how I am—how I get embarrassed so easily.” He felt like an idiot, but Evie was the only one he could talk to about this. She’d always understood. “After the night’s revelations, I wasn’t quite expecting you to one-up me with the sex dream thing. You couldn’t even give me that.”
She giggled, her laugh a fluttery breath against his neck. “Like I could let you have a monopoly on the sexy-times confessions.”
“Ah, so you were trying to make me feel better.”
She didn’t respond for a beat. “I’d do anything to make you feel good, Ty. But I wasn’t lying. I woke up beside a nun on my flight from Rome after I’d apparently moaned your name during this dirty dream.”
“A nun? Jesus, Evie, only you.” Why wasn’t it this easy with other girls? Why couldn’t he have this connection with someone who wanted him the way he wanted Evie—sex dream notwithstanding?
“I’m guessing I was a real stud in this dream.” He had to be one somewhere.
“Oh, yeah, baby!” She drew back to meet his gaze, her mouth twitching. “Earlier at the bar, you seemed to think you wouldn’t know what you were doing if you got the opportunity. You watch porn, don’t you?”
He closed his eyes briefly. She was his friend. She was trying to help.
“I watch porn. Tons of porn. Lashings of porn.”
She giggled. “Okay, calm down, porn lover. That should give you an idea of what a woman wants.”
“Really? Porn’s now a realistic expression of sex?”
“It can be. You see what turns you on. If it turns you on, then it probably turns her on, because women get off on seeing a guy in ecstasy. Tell me how you’d do it.”
“How I’d do what?”
She put an arm around his torso under the blanket and lay her head at that perfect spot under his chin, over his collarbone. “Give me an idea of what you’d do, and I’ll tell you if you’re on the right track.”
Was she out of her ever-loving mind? When he didn’t say anything, she rubbed his chest, right over his nipple. Like she had no idea that would turn him on like a fucking lamp!
“Ty…”
Just do it. If anyone can help you figure this out, it’s Evie. “I think my problem is that I’d probably blow my wad before she did and it would be terrible for her. I want to get it right. For both of us.”
“Tyler, you’re a rescue squad firefighter. Are you saying you don’t have the stamina to wait your girl out?”
That’s exactly what he was saying. Also, he wondered about the etiquette of fantasizing about another girl—about Evie—while he was with this imaginary first time. Thinking about Evie’s lush curves and perfect, perky tits would only make him lose it faster.
“I just want it to be amazing for her.”
“The fact that’s even occurred to you means it will be. Tell me what you’d
do to her. How you’d touch her.”
He closed his eyes, calling up his fantasy while the actual woman of his dreams lay in his arms, thinking he was talking about someone else.
“I’d kiss her first.”
“How? Where?”
“The side of her mouth.” Evie had a freckle there that played a weirdly specific role in Tyler’s fantasies. “Just a featherlight touch, then I’d nudge my lips against hers and start soft.”
She shifted against him, snuggling closer. “Then?”
“She’d part her lips, let me in, and our tongues would touch. There’d be sparks all over my body, but I wouldn’t try to get too forceful just yet. I’d keep it soft, exploratory.”
“Where would your hands be?”
“It depends if we’re in bed or against a wall or—”
“On a sofa?” She pulled back. “Show me where your hands would be.”
Tyler’s mouth went bone dry.
“For science, Tyler.”
For science. He placed one hand on her hip, the other cupping her jaw.
She nodded curtly, like she understood this was a demonstration. “Then what would you do?”
“I’d pull her astraddle. Over my—I’d want her to know how hard I was for her, how much my—” Shit, he couldn’t do this. Not when he wanted her so much. He’d shoot off in seconds.
“How much your what?”
He snatched a breath, looked right into her eyes, and took a chance. “My cock. I’d want her to know that my cock is hard for her and her alone.”
“Show her.”
“What?”
“Show her what that’s like.”
Her? Who the fuck was her? There was only one “her” as far as Tyler was concerned: the woman in his arms. But that wasn’t what Evie meant. She was talking about this mythical woman, who’d put up with his fumbling. The her he had yet to woo.
His hands didn’t care for semantics. His hands recognized only the need to be filled with this woman, here and now. He cupped her ass under the shirt and brushed the thinnest scrap of fabric covering her smooth, silky skin. Oh God, he was touching her bare, perfect ass. Within two seconds, he had her sitting on his rock-hard dick where she belonged.
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