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But then they’d fallen on each other like animals and he felt like another layer had been stripped away from him.
He’d never had an encounter with a woman quite like the one he’d had with Evie earlier today.
Or on Friday night.
He’d never been into tying women up, or fucking them in public. Hell, beds worked just fine for him, thanks. But she’d been so hot. So into it. It was like she was exploring her sexuality for the first time, and using him to help. And what guy wouldn’t get off on that?
There was something about the way she wanted him, about her mixture of boldness, innocence and total sense of adventure that got to him. Made him crave more.
But in order for him to get more, she had to show up. And he wanted her to. Okay, he needed her to. He could admit that much, even though it galled him.
He didn’t do need. Or attachment. He wasn’t up to it. He had nothing to offer back. Woe to the person he needed because there was nothing he could do to adequately compensate them for fulfilling his needs.
Yeah, he was good in bed, he knew that. But there was more to life than that. Or there was more to most people’s lives, anyway. In his life, that was basically the beginning and end of it. Which was fine.
The doorbell rang and he strode toward the entry. “Thank God,” he muttered, jerking the door open. “You’re late,” he said, looking at the woman standing out there on the step.
She was bar hookup Evie again. Not work Evie, in stretch pants and dorky T-shirt. She was wearing killer heels and a tight red dress that showed off just how flawless her curves were. She also looked big-eyed and nervous, slightly awkward.
“Sorry, I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
“What do I care what you’re wearing? It’s only going to end up on the floor.”
She frowned. “I spent time on this selection.”
“And you look amazing. But you looked amazing to me earlier, too.”
She blinked rapidly. “I did?”
“You’re beautiful. What you’re wearing doesn’t have anything to do with it. Now come in.”
She did, walking in slowly, her hands clasped in front of her. He shut the door behind her. Evie was back out of her element again.
“It’s not any different than earlier,” he said, gripping her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up to look at him. “You remember what you did to me earlier.”
“I remember what you did to me.”
“Come on, pretty girl,” he said, sliding his hand down her arm and guiding her palm to his cloth-covered cock. “Feel what you do to me?”
He was hard already. Had been hard from thinking about her. From fantasizing about what might happen tonight. His Evie was full of surprises. He was the first to admit to being jaded. To finding very little about life exciting or interesting.
But she was exciting. She was interesting.
And in a world where nothing was, it was something like finding water in the desert.
“I thought maybe we should have dinner…or talk or…okay.” He pulled her in and kissed the words right from her lips. He had to, because he wasn’t sure what he’d say if she wanted to talk. He felt weird. Hefelt,period, and that was weird.
He kissed her deep and long, his tongue sliding against hers. She made little kittenish sounds of pleasure, her fingernails kneading his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time just kissing a woman had been so rewarding. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to linger on a kiss.
This wasn’t about rushing through to the main event, but with her, it never had been. With Evie, it had always been the lure of the unknown.
Not because she was slick and mysterious, but because her honesty was so unpredictable. She was sort of scary to watch, too. She was someone who didn’t seem to know how to protect the most vulnerable pieces of herself.
It scared him for her. Made him want to demand she cover up, put on a helmet to keep from the missiles that would fly her direction when other people saw just how unprotected she was.
But at the same time, he wanted her to stay the same. Because he liked what she gave to him. Which was a hell of a douchey thing. To want to use that sweetness, that guilelessness for his own satisfaction.
But then, he’d established early on in his life that he was in fact a dickbag, so it seemed in keeping with his character. If you could call what he had character. And he couldn’t say he cared much either way.
