My back is probably going to be bruised from pressing into the pillar as his hips pin me to it I’m desperate for him. Desperate for more. All I want is him. His mouth. His hands. Is this a selfish and greedy thing to want? His hands are strong and certain, like he knows what he wants. Which is a good thing because I fucking don’t.
The kiss is all tongue, whimpers, and strangled moans. It’severything.
“Scarlett,” he whispers against my mouth. For a second, I don't think he's going to follow it up with anything as he keeps his lips pressed against mine. He's just saying my name as if he needs to believe it. As if he's trying to convince himself that it's me that he's kissing. “I can't- It's just...You.”
My thoughts come to a stop when his hand drops from my face, stretches across my chest before dipping down over the material of my dress where my nipples are hard. He pinches me and I moan into his mouth.I fucking moan.And because my bedroom is huge, it echoes on the walls.
It snaps us both back to reality as he sighs while he breaks away from me, leaving my chest heaving as I blink up at him. I open my mouth to speak, hoping to say something – anything – as I take in his smug face, but no words come. I press my fingers to my swollen lips, my hands practically shaking.
“Desserts ready,” Henry calls with a flourish as he raps on the open bedroom door.
I would smile at him and thank him, but he saunters off while I stare at Evan. His pupils are dilated, and his eyes search my face, watching the arousal and heat across my face and neck.
“What was that?” I ask when I can remember to form coherent sentences.
“Nothing,” he replies, fixing the cuffs of his shirt.
“What the fuck does that mean? Your tongue was just inside my mouth,” I say, searching his face for something, but coming up empty. He chuckles again, running his hands over my shoulders as if he's trying to straighten me out.
“I mean that was nothing compared to what I would do if your family wasn’t one floor below us,” he whispers as if that makes more sense.
“What? That doesn’t even-”
“I do have a thought though,” he says, cutting me off, looking at me thoughtfully as if he didn’t just try and fuck me with his tongue. He brushes a strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. He tilts my chin up and I swallow as he turns my face towards the large mirror on the wall across from us. “Look at you. So undone. So messy. I want to know if you look exactly like this after you come.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he looks at me for a second as my face floods with heat for the millionth time and he smirks to himself, knowing what his proximity does to me. He steps back. He takes another step. Then another, still staring at me before turning on his heels and walking out of my room.
27
Scarlett
Evan’s acting weird. Okay, maybe I’m acting weird too. I could deal if one of us was freaking out, but now both of us are, it’s driving me mad. I’m trying to keep calm. I kiss dudes all the time. It’s what I do. But with Evan… That’s something different. The way he made me feel was not what I’m used to.
Kennedy is in her meddling era, meaning that she’s doing just about anything to make me spend more time with Evan than necessary. She doesn’t know about the kiss, but for some reason I’m convinced she’s telepathically been able to figure me out. After our very awkward goodbye after the kiss, he practically bolted out of my house, and I haven’t seen him since then.
That was three days ago.
Now, I’m sitting on an air mattress between Wren, Miles, and Kennedy on top of a tarp outside while we watch a show on the makeshift projector Miles bought for their backyard.
Kennedy planned yet another hang out session and Miles has been dying to try out the projector that Wren got him for his birthday. Xavier is sitting in front of us, lying on his stomach and Evan is next to him, off in the corner like a little hermit.
Why is he avoiding me like a fucking disease as if he isn’t the one that kissed me? Okay, maybe I had sort-of, kinda, definitely asked for it, butstill. He shouldn’t be the one who’s embarrassed. It was a moment of weakness. We were in my room, he was wearing that fucking suit, looking angry and sexy at the same time, while I just looked like my usual gorgeous self. The amount of angry and sexual tension running through us finally burst into flames. It was bound to happen.
It was the best kiss of my life. That is what pisses me off the most. He shouldn’t be allowed to make me feel like that. He shouldn't make me feel like I want more of him. So much fucking more.
I can still taste him. I can stillfeelhim.
I should be the one that’s embarrassed. Especially after the dirty dream I had about him last night. That kiss has been all I’ve thought about for the last three nights. All I could imagine was him on top of me, his weight pressing into me, calling me a good girl, his face buried between my legs as I panted his name. I had to fuck myself with a toy to relieve the tension. I hate that I did that. Especially while thinking about him.
“How was your date?” Kennedy asks as the last episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine transitions into a new one. She’s at it again. Great. The date. Right. I almost forgot. It feels like everything that happened before that kiss doesn’t even exist anymore. As if he completely brought me alive from just one touch.
“Great,” I say.
“Terrible,” he says. He turns around then, and I glare at him. “I thought we were-”
“It wasfine,” I amend, cutting him off. Kennedy nods, throwing popcorn into her mouth. I know she’s not going to let me live it down. Telling either of them about the kiss would only prove their points and I am still so unsure as to what I want. All I know for certain is that I want to touch him again, in whatever way.
I need to feel him, and I need him to feel me.
