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There’s a glint in his eye that I recognize, the beginning of hot arousal, but also something else glowing from behind it. There’s no mistaking what that is either, the way he’s looking at me. Pure, strong love. He’s looking at me as if I’m the only person in the world, and it’s so overwhelming I can hardly speak.
But when I finally do, the only thing I can choke out is a quiet, moved, “I love you.”
His reply is almost immediate. With the slight curving of his mouth upward, he cups my cheek. “I love you. Always.”
Chapter 37
New Year’s Eve
It’s been six months since Evan told me he loved me and we shredded the infamous contract. Since then, life has been hectic but amazing. When I’m not in school and Evan isn’t working, we spend every minute we can together—plays, charity benefits, glamorous appearances, fancy dinners, and especially quiet nights on the couch, binging Netflix. It’s been heavenly.
Blinking open my eyes, my world comes into focus slowly. It’s just after 12 p.m. and the light streams through the huge windows of the penthouse suite at Exeter House. Below, the Pacific Ocean sparkles in the sunlight as it thunders against the beach. Turning my head, I see Evan is already awake.
“Good morning, my love,” Evan whispers, leaning forward to kiss the tip of my nose. “Are you ready to play hostess this evening?”
I smile at him, brushing the tip of my finger across the prickles on his chin. He loves it when I do wifey things, like decorating or hosting dinner parties. “Not really,” I tease.
His gaze falls to my wrist, and he takes it in his hand, kissing the red marks left by the ropes last night. “I wasn’t careful enough last night. I left marks on your skin.”
I glance at my wrist. The marks are barely visible and were only made because I asked him to cinch the rope tighter. I like the resistance and the feeling of the rope tugging on my skin. So it’s more my fault than his, really.
“I think I’ll live,” I laugh.
With a scowl, he throws back the comforter and climbs out of bed, buck ass naked. I drink in the sight of his perfectly sculpted ass as he walks to the bathroom. When he reappears, he has a towel tied around his waist and a small tube of ointment in his hand.
He sits on the edge of the bed and holds his hand out. “Give me your wrists.”
“You’re being overprotective, as usual,” I say. “My wrists are fine.”
“Wrist,” he repeats without moving, without even blinking—as always bringing his usual intensity to any situation, big or small.
With a heavy sigh, I give him my right hand. He takes the ointment and puts some in his palm, then rubs it into my skin gently. Then, he takes my other wrist and does the same thing. The subtle scent of eucalyptus and mint fills the air around us.
He punctuates his careful ministrations with a quick kiss on the backs of both my hands before letting them go.
“Thank you,” I say. “It already feels better.”
I fling the covers off of myself and move to get out of bed, but he reaches over and grabs me by the hips, preventing me from getting up. “No, no,” he growls. “We’re not getting up quite yet.”
“Uh, yes we are. It’s already past noon, and I have to take a shower. We have people coming over soon.”
It’s our first New Year’s together, and I wanted to make it special, so I invited all my friends from Caltech and a few of Evan’s friends from work. Well, friends is a loose term. Evan Kohl doesn’t really have friends per se. He has business associates that he’s friendly with—but we’re changing that, slowly but surely, as he learns to open himself up. It’s a slow process, but he’s trying and I love him for that.
I feel his gaze on me as I walk to my open suitcase and pull out a new pair of panties and a black lace bra.
“I had clothes purchased for you and put in the closet,” he reminds me.
“I know, and I appreciate your generosity.” I turn around to face him. “But the underwear you chose aren’t exactly practical.”
Evan made sure the closet was filled with fine silk and delicate lace, which is great for the bedroom. Not so great for everyday life.
“I don’t know why you’re still living out of your suitcase,” he says. “I ask you every week to move in with me.”
During the week, I still share a room with Sam. It’s just easier if I have classes because the trek from Malibu to Pasadena is at least an hour one way, on a good traffic day, which is extremely rare in Los Angeles. Losing more than two hours a day on just the commute isn’t something I can accept.
“When I graduate, we can re-examine the living arrangements. For now, though, my place in Pasadena is way more convenient during the week.” I punctuate my statement with a gentle smile to soften the rejection.
He nods slowly, and I can see that beautiful mind is trying to think of a solution. Bless him. It’s why he’s so brilliant at business. He’s a problem-solver at heart, brain always in overdrive while thinking up better solutions in business, the science and technology fields, even in our domestic life. “Maybe we should move into Hill House together. That way we can be together during the week.”
