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I walk toward the elevator, replaying everything that just happened. And god, if I’m still going out, I’m totally going to have to change my panties now. Because Evan was right.
I’m totally fucking wet for him.
As I reach for the elevator button, I realize my hand is shaking.
I, Emilia Adams, am shaken up over a guy. What even?
I pride myself on never letting my guard down. All fun, all the time. The party girl.
The one you can count on for a good time, maybe for a good fuck, but who always has the upper hand.
But right now, I’m totally rattled by what just happened.
The only thing I know for certain is that I need to stay far, far away from this guy Evan.
And I also know, somehow, that it’s going to be impossible.
Not just because we live in the same building, either. But because I’m pretty damn sure I won’t be able to get him out of my head until I’ve satisfied my curiosity.
It will be on my terms, though. Not his.
I’m half-angry, half-turned on when I think about the way he oh-so-casually just assumed that all he had to do was flash that infuriatingly charming grin and say a few dirty things in that sexy, rumbling voice and I’d be putty in his hands.
Nope. Not this girl.
But fuck, I’m practically vibrating from his touch. Just the memory of how it felt to have his breath on my neck, his hard body beneath my hands has me whimpering out loud.
Jesus.
“Pull it together, Em,” I mutter to myself as the elevator chimes and the door whooshes open.
He’s not my type. At all. Yet, somehow, I feel like he’s everything I’ve been missing and didn’t even know.
But that’s ridiculous. Fanciful, even. I roll my eyes as I angrily punch the button for Erin’s floor.
Nope. Not going to do this. I’m going to go straight to Erin’s apartment and drag her ass out for a night on the town.
Just as the elevator door starts to slide closed, a tanned, muscled arm pushes back against it, and it opens up again.
I plaster a pleasant smile on my face, not wanting whomever this is to see me in this conflicted stated.
And…it’s him.
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
He grins, charming, dashing, debonair, all the bullshit words one would attribute to a guy like this.
“If you insist.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to try to pin me up against the wall of the elevator and do all the deliciously dirty things he promised in the lounge. He reaches his hand toward me. Then just stares at me expectantly, his fingers inches from my waist.
I give him the stink-eye. “What the fuck, dude?”
Evan clears his throat. “Um, just want to push the button for my floor.” He nods his head toward the row of buttons that I’m actually leaning against.
I shift to my right and my face burns as I realize that in my attempt to be casual, I happened to light up almost all of the buttons on the panel.
An amused smirk crosses his chiseled features.
