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“No. I was frustrated the first ten times I looked for my phone in my pocket, but then I lost count and started relaxing,” he admits.
“You should think more about your health. I don’t want to come to your funeral, Evan. I still have nightmares about the night you collapsed to the ground. It was the scariest moment of my life, and I will never forget the terror I felt,” I confess quietly.
I never told him how he scared me that night. My only thought was: “If he dies, I will die with him.”
He kisses my temple and squeezes me tighter. “I’m sorry.”
I know he’s sorry he scared me, but that doesn’t reassure me. He continues to drink the same amount of coffee, sleep very little, and stress about that damn contract that I want to just tear up.
“Are you really treating yourself for that ulcer?” I ask. This question has tormented me since we discovered it.
Evan makes me turn to him and forces me to look him in the eye. “I’m seeing a specialist. He’s helping me get back in shape. Don’t think I’m so reckless that I’d disregard what the doctor told me. I know it’s serious.” His words are sweet but firm.
“Do you promise that if you feel sick, you’ll tell me?” I insist.
“I swear I will.”
“So you’re going to start reducing your coffee intake?”
He chuckles. “Now, let’s not get carried away. One step at a time. The doctor prescribed pills to shrink the ulcer, but you can’t take away all the caffeine suddenly, or I’ll have withdrawals.”
“You shouldn’t even drink alcohol,” I grumble.
“It won’t be this glass that will kill me. I promise I’ll keep it under control. But for now, let’s just enjoy this moment. Tomorrow we’ll go back to the office…I hope.” He smiles.
I see the sincerity on his face, reassuring me a little. I kiss him and then slide back against his chest and bring my gaze to the vision in front of us.
“Do you think there are bears out there?” I ask after a long silence when the thought of the wilderness out here catches me off guard.
Evan looks at me, puzzled, while sipping more wine. The squeeze around my waist intensifies, and I don’t miss the tension in his muscles. “I don’t know. Could be. Did you see something moving?”
“No, but the sun is going down, and some rows of trees at the far end have disappeared from sight. If a bear comes out, we wouldn’t have much time to reach the door.”
Being torn apart by a wild animal is not at the top of my list as the best way to die. Evan looks at me for a few interminable seconds, then at the forest in front of us, all too close to this patio. He stands up in a hurry, never letting go of his grip around my waist, dragging me as he rushes out of the tub.
“I’ve never been a fan of camping,” he says as we run naked and wet into our room.
I enter the bathroom for some towels and notice bottles of body lotion on the marble shelf. Despite being a small cabin in the middle of the woods, it was obviously designed for a luxury holiday. These oils cost a fortune, and there are at least three bottles here. I grab one and leave, finding Evan standing in front of the bed, naked in all his glorious presence. This man without clothes is a vision. Like one of those marble statues with defined muscles that leave you breathless. Except he’s very much alive, and his blood is flowing to his private parts.
“Lie down on the bed, belly down. I’ll give you a massage.” I wink at him as I move closer and slap his firm, inviting butt.
I bend down and nibble his butt cheek, getting a chuckle from him. I always wanted to do that. Even in his elegant trousers, Evan’s ass is the death of every woman and many men.
He stretches out, putting his hands under the pillow where his head rests, while I straddle his legs just below his ass. I stop for a few seconds to admire his muscular back and marble-like buttocks and then climb toward those powerful shoulders and arms that could take down a bear if he wanted to. But it’s his face that takes my breath away every time, the fleshy lips, the straight and perfect nose, the high cheekbones, the thick eyelashes. His dark hair is a little long and wet, curling on his forehead. Even his profile is a vision that short-circuits my brain. Damian has that wild beauty that makes you lose your mind, Michael has the cocky attitude, Thomas has a smile that melts you, and Simon wins you over with his sweetness. But Evan… Evan could walk on a catwalk for the most fabulous designers, and everyone would be enchanted by his beauty and regal bearing.
I put a little oil on my hands and rub them to heat my palms. When I place them on his back, just above his butt, and push upwards and outwards, stretching the muscles I encounter, the groan that comes out of his chest makes my fingers vibrate.
“Christ. If you keep doing that, you can ask me to do whatever you want. I’ll be your slave.” His hoarse voice makes me smile.
“Really? Good to know,” I chuckle as I continue my slow assault on his back, shoulders, and arms.
The dorsal muscles are contracted, and the ones at the base of his neck look like concrete. He is tense, and I feel the muscles fighting against my fingers that try to loosen them. The resistance is so strong I wonder how he can move and lead an everyday life.
“I think I’ve lost all logical and coherent thinking,” he whispers as he closes his eyes and settles more comfortably on the bed.
I smile throughout the massage, with only the crackling of the fire to keep us company, as I see him relax, his breath becoming deeper, and his features softening. He’s letting go, something I rarely see him do.
After not even ten minutes, his lips part slightly, and his lungs expand at longer intervals. I bend down and kiss him on the cheek, but he doesn’t move. Not even when I go down his neck and shoulders, teasing him with my tongue. He’s fallen asleep so deeply that even when I move, grab the blanket, and lie next to him, covering us both, he doesn’t wake up.
