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A slash of red ran across his cheekbones, sweat beading on his forehead. He wasn’t the cool, disinterested playboy now. Not the distant order-giver. He was lost, and she could see it.
“Eyes on me,” she said, and he obeyed, a shot of pleasure roaring through her.
She kept her gaze locked on his as she moved, as they both moved higher, closer to the peak.
“Caleb,” she said, his name on her lips. Over and over again. “Caleb.”
“Yes, baby,” he said. “Just like that. Yes, Evie.”
She rocked back and forth, moved faster, harder, her eyes on his face as he gave up control completely, his head falling back, his mouth open, his brows locked together. And it pushed her over.
She didn’t bother to hold back the raw sound of pleasure that climbed her throat and tore its way out of her mouth. She shuddered out her climax, calling out his name, digging her nails into the skin on his chest as she was consumed with her release.
Then when it was over she lay down over his chest, her breathing fractured, her whole world fractured.
“Stay,” he said, his arms coming around her waist, his palms warm and heavy on her back.
“Okay.”
Chapter Nine
Caleb woke up with a woman in his arms. That never happened. He never permitted himself that luxury. The intimacy of letting someone sleep with him. After all, they could smother you with a pillow while you slept, so it came back to trust.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the bright streak of red hair that slashed across his chest like a wound. A strange analogy maybe, but not inappropriate, since everything hurt. Since his chest hurt deep inside like she really had cut him open.
He moved away from her, untangled himself from her hold slowly, then sliding to the edge of the bed, sitting there with his feet on the floor and his face in his hands.
He’d told her about Jill. He never talked about Jill.
But it had been her birthday, and that was always the worst day. Because he had so many memories of her birthdays. They’d always spent them together. As a family.
Now, he didn’t even call his parents that day. A day when everyone had gotten together, celebrated and eaten cake, had turned into a day where they never even spoke.
Jill was the brighter of the two of them, the most ambitious. Poised to take over the family business. She’d lived for that stuff. Been so involved in everything. Their dad’s favorite, for obvious reasons, and it might have bothered him if she hadn’t been his favorite, too.
And it just seemed wrong, and cruel, that it had been Jill hit by another driver while cruising down the road they took between the office and home. That she’d been the one. It could have been the person in front of her. The person behind her.
It could have been him. He was in the passenger seat. And he’d been fine. He’d walked away. He’d walked away from an accident that had killed her instantly. His side of the car perfectly preserved, hers completely gone.
And he’d seen it. Seen that she wasn’t there at all. He’d been sitting there, fine, unhurt, and she was just staring straight ahead, unseeing, unmoving.
Why was it her? Why, on such a perfect, sunny day, with nothing remotely sinister flashing up as a warning? Why was she the one in the path of a drunk guy who was wasted at six in the evening? Why was it her side of the car? Life didn’t make sense.
Why was Jill gone when the world needed her? She was the sort of person who would have made an impact. Who had the resources and the drive. And he was…
He was the one who was still here. And he couldn’t figure it out. Not then, not ten years on.
Even so, he wasn’t sure why he’d spilled his guts to Evie, then clung to her like a needy child.
He’d begged her to stay, how sad was that?
He stood up and rubbed his hands over his face, and back over his hair.
“Morning, buttercup.” He turned and saw Evie, staring up at him, looking rumpled and sleepy and sexy. So sexy he wanted to climb back into her head, back into bed, back into her arms, and never get up again. The world sucked; he would rather spend the rest of his life in this bedroom with Evie. Spanking her and kissing her and being inside her.
The realization hit him with the force of a wrecking ball to the chest. He needed her. He’d known it was starting, but he hadn’t done what he should have right when he’d realized it. He couldn’t need her, because he had nothing to give back to her. He couldn’t stay with her because…
She deserved more than he was. More than a playboy who did nothing but sit on his ass and spend his father’s money.
