Page 19 of Playing With Forever

There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel seen—special even. I had all of his attention, his entire world had narrowed to me, and he’d made me the center of his universe. It was a heady sensation knowing a man like Evan was fully engaged and attuned to my every emotion. I knew from experience he’d miss nothing. He’d catalog my responses and exploit them when the time was right.

All of this happened before his lips had touched mine, and that was why I’d readily agreed to go home with him last weekend. And right then, in his kitchen, with his hand cupping my jaw, he was doing it again.

Watching.

Waiting.

Memorizing.

“Evan,” I whispered.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said conversationally, as if he were speaking to himself. “But fuck if I can stop thinking about you.”

He tipped my chin up, lowered his head, and captured my mouth. His tongue slid between my lips.

I whimpered at the taste of him and automatically tilted my head back, wanting more.

Evan groaned and gave it to me, deepening the kiss.

A mixture of euphoria and excitement pooled in my belly. My sex was drenched. My breasts swelled and felt heavy. He tasted like lust and longing.

He lifted his head, breaking our kiss, but didn’t go far. Our breaths still mingled when he rasped, “Goddamn, you can kiss.”

I didn’t think that was the case.

“It’s you.”

He shifted his hand so he could trace my bottom lip with his thumb. “What’s me?”

“I just follow your lead.”

Evan made a rough noise that vibrated not only against my lips but through my entire body.

God, I loved the sounds he made, and the more turned on he was, the more animalistic they became—growls and grunts, feral and wild, until they were completely untamed. If I hadn’t seen it, heard it, felt it, I wouldn’t have believed it possible for a man such as Evan, who lived his life in such a controlled manner, to turn into a savage beast.

He rested his forehead on mine, continuing to slowly glide the pad of his thumb over my lip when he gently told me, “This isn’t smart.”

Even knowing he was right, my heart cracked. My old friend, insecurity, reared her head, reminding me I would never be enough to keep a man—my destiny had been set in stone. Loneliness would be my only companion.

“It’s not,” I agreed.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wondering if it’s this hard to keep my distance. If I have to force my mind onto other things or they’ll stray to you, then maybe I shouldn’t be fighting so hard.”

He couldn’t stop thinking about me?

Me?

The middle-aged workaholic who went home to an empty house, ate dinner by herself, and hassled her sons to come visit.

That me?

“Evan, this could become very complicated.”

“Baby, it already is. But what isn’t is the chemistry we’ve got.”

He wasn’t wrong about that.

“Our lives are tangled, albeit those ties are loose, but more importantly, there’s also Lindy.”