His hands are balled into fists on the table. I place my hand gently over his and they are fucking scorching. I push out my chair, trying to pry open his fist so I can slip my hand into it. He finally lets me and I squeeze his hand.
“Evan and I would like to be excused.”
I drag us from the table and he almost trips over his chair. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can’t sit at that table with them for any longer. He follows behind me and I take him into my oldbedroom to cool off.
My room is one of the biggest in the house; one of the limited perks for being the only girl beside my mom. It’s still painted the same pale blue colour I asked for when I was younger, a beige canopy bed pushed against one wall, huge pillars surrounding it.
Evan has been awfully quiet since his outburst at the table, and I don’t know what to say. He’s subtly looking around the room and when his eyes find mine, he drops them to his shoes. I turn away from him, walking towards the pillar of my bed, playing with the tassels. For the millionth time today, I contemplate why I’m nervous.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I whisper quietly. “But thank you.”Am I really thanking Evan Branson right now? Apparently.I turn around, trying to lean causally on the pillar. His hands are in his pockets, his chest heaving.
Is he mad at me?
“Do they talk to you like that all the time?” he asks, grinding his jaw together.
I shrug. “Sometimes. It’s only Arthur since Alex left. He’s just trying to play the role of the big older brother, but it’s really just annoying as fuck,” I say with a weak chuckle.
“God, Scarlett,” he mutters angrily. He runs his hand down his face, sighing. “And what do you say back?”
“Nothing.”
“So, you don’t talk back to them, but you want to argue with me any chance you get?” he asks, his eyes squinting.
“It’s different with you. You’re an only child, so you don’t get it. You can act how you want around me, and I can’t hold that against you because you don’t owe me anything,” I explain.
He nods. “And how do I act around you?” he asks, slowly walking towards me. His chest is so close to mine now, I have to tilt my head up slightly to look at him, those piercing green eyes staring straight into mine.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “You hate me most of the time or you act like you hate everyone elsebutme other times. I thought I had you figured out, but now… It’s confusing.”
His face is so close to mine. A breath away. He gently angles his head down, so it moves to the side of my face, his breath hot on my neck. What the hell is happening and why don’t I want it to stop?
His hand drops onto the pillar behind me, just above my head and he places his other hand on my hip, squeezing me gently. I try to swallow, but my mouth goes dry. It feels like his heavy hand could burn straight through my clothes.
“Is this confusing you?”
“Yes.”
“And this?” he rasps. My body registers it before my brain does as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss onto my neck where my pulse beats rapidly. His mouth barely grazes the surface and I still get chills everywhere.
Evan’s touch is like something I’ve never experienced before. It’s not like anyone else's. It’s overwhelming, calming, yet powerfully seductive. It’s justhis.
?Call Out My Name - The Weeknd
“Ev,” I plead breathlessly, not sure what for. My voice catches as his breath hovers over my exposed neck, my stomach somersaulting.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“What are you doing?”
He inhales, his nose brushing against my neck as he murmurs, “You smell so fucking good, and I want it all over me.”
I try to relax, but it’s really fucking difficult. My chest is rising and falling rapidly, the space between us no longer existing as our bodies press together. His hand is still on my hip, his thumb slowly caressing my hip bone.
“I can, um, find the perfume I’m wearing if you don’t mind smelling like a Voss,” I joke.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” he says into my skin.
“Then what do you mean?”
