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CHAPTER13
graeme
She’s caught off guard when I shove her away, breaking the kiss. Clumsy, she staggers back and trips onto the bed. I expect the distance to knock some bloody sense into her, but her eyes just narrow, refusing to tear away from mine for even a second. I’m the one who breaks the contact to take the rest of her in, piece by piece.
Evelyn King doesn’t seem so prim and proper now. Her camisole has ridden up over the flat of her stomach. Her skirt is askew. When I start forward, she bites her lip, her head tilting back against the duvet. Messy blond hair tangles around her shoulders. Like bloody silk. It parts for me when I fist my fingers in the thick of it, pinning her head flat while I seize her mouth and shove my tongue against hers. Deep. Deeper.
Only Evelyn fucking King can turn my every assumption on its head. She tastes like goddamn roses. Like coffee. Like honey. Like hell. Two. Three. Five fucking searching thrusts aren’t enough to taste her fully. I have to wrench on her scalp, fusing our lips together, mounting her with my weight until she has no choice but to take me as far as she can. When I attempt to go even deeper, own her completely… her teeth clamp down over my tongue.
“Fuck!” Withdrawing from her is like surfacing from underwater—boiling water. My ears pop. Pain sears through my skull. I shake my head to clear it, but by then, she’s writhing, trying to crawl out from under me.
As if it would be that fucking easy.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I hook my hand within the waistband of her skirt and drag her back before she can get far. “Dare or not, I accept your challenge.”
My palm grazes her thigh, sliding between her legs. I go far enough for the tip of my thumb to brush a thatch of silk and lace. I let her own unsteady breathing count the passing seconds.
If she told me to stop, I would. She doesn’t.
Her hips jerk. Her lips fly apart as she pants. Her eyes meet mine, and rather than flush and turn away, they shine with a dare.Do it.
So I nudge the panel of her underwear aside with my index finger and slid my thumb underneath. She’s tight. Hot. Already quivering…
Her entire body quakes when I slide a single finger inside of her. Deep. I grit my teeth at the way she feels… every greedy, hungry clench. I draw my hand back. Thrust again.
She tightens.
Once more, and she moans. Harsher. Faster.More.
I slide her panties down enough to add a second finger, before flicking both apart to stretch her while my thumb assaults her clit. One pass. Two. Her knees rise up on either side, trapping my body between them. Her breath hitches when I increase the pace, but when I draw back on my knees and lower my head, she bucks.
“W-Wait—uh!”
Her argument dies as I plunge my tongue between her legs, and finally taste every inch of Evelyn King. Pure fucking sin. Hot. Raw. Wet. I can’t resist flicking my tongue along the length of her, using my fingers to stroke whatever I can reach.
Vibrations run through her skin—but I don’t hear her complaining. Just her hammering pulse. The damn sounds she makes. The way the mattress creaks when her back bows and she laces her fingers through my hair, tugging… pulling.
“Fuck,” I growl the word when she finally convulses, her orgasm punctuated by one shrill gasp.
Her chest is still heaving when I pull back and dismount the mattress backward. I kick over the bottle of wine when I stagger into the bathroom. I barely get my pants down around my ankles before coming into my fist so hard I have to brace one hand against the counter. There’s no way to hide the evidence this time. For the second time in one day, I came because of Evelyn King.
And I’m more than willing to make her pay.
CHAPTER14
evie
Wine turns my brain into a merry-go-round. Usually, I prefer vodka instead, even though it makes me sick to my stomach. I’d take puking over waking up like this any day. Dizzy, sore, and…
“Oh shit.” My eyes fly open to an unfamiliar ceiling—the first clue that something is horribly wrong. On second thought, the ceiling isn’t so much unfamiliar as it is seen from an unusual angle. I’m not used to looking up at it from the bed, after all—the massive, king-sized bed that I’ve only ever made or turned down. Unsurprisingly it feels divine to lay on—the perfect support for my head as shame threatens to turn my pride into a pancake.
Don’t think about it, Evie,I tell myself encouragingly.Just get up. Get dressed. Go home.
Where exactly home would be, considering that, thanks to Danny, I no longer have an apartment to run to? Well, I’ll just have to figure that out later.
I close my eyes and then peel them open again, one by one. I can make out the huge floor-to-ceiling window without craning my neck any. Overcast daylight streams in—the curtains had been left open, meaning it is highly likely that I spent the night in this room alone. God, I hope so.
When I finally gather the nerve to lift my head from the mattress, I have a perfect visual of the mess I left on the floor. Every tie owned by Graeme Bellamy is spread out in what was once a neat row, now partially trampled by an expensive pair of leather loafers and two muddy ballet flats. My chest is already heaving at the horror of it—but that’s not all. No, because three bottles of expensive wine joined the fray, along with every version of a designer Oxford known to man.
