Hot and Bothered (Sin and Tonic Book 4)

by Athena Wright

  The kind of thing I might have wanted to wear in front of Evan, maybe, eventually, at some point. But right now…

  Evan’s chest heaved with a deep, shuddering inhale. The flush on my cheeks no doubt rivaled the bright red negligee.

  “Over here, Alice, we’re getting started,” Lizzy called out.

  “Be right there,” I said, then turned to Evan. “You were going to ask me something?” I asked shyly.

  “Yeah, um…” He seemed to give himself a full-body shake. “I need to take off a little early. Something came up. Do you mind getting a ride home with Lizzy?”

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “No, just something I need to take care of.” His gaze kept wavering, drifting down to stare at my chest before snapping back up. “I guess I’ll have to miss out on, uh… this.” His eyes simmered with barely suppressed heat.

  “One of the models canceled and Lizzy asked me and I didn’t know what it was going to be but I’d already said yes, so…”

  “Right, no, yeah.” Evan’s voice was hoarse. His eyes drifted downward again. “Good luck out there.”

  We both looked over to where Lizzy had beckoned, at the canopy bed and silk sheets. I thought I heard that strangled noise again.

  “Fuck but this is bad timing,” he muttered, running a hand over his jaw and squeezing his eyes shut briefly. “Okay, I’ve got to go.” Evan put a hand on my arm gently and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You look gorgeous.” He pulled back, leaving a tingling sensation where his lips had touched my skin. “See you at home.”

  Then, with great reluctance, he turned away and headed out.

  “Alice?” Lizzy called out again.

  I blinked rapidly to clear my head.

  There I was, surrounded by a dozen strangers, wearing this thing, and I didn’t even care. I wasn’t self-conscious at all.

  The only thing I cared about was Evan and the way he had stared at me.

  He looked like he had wanted to devour me whole.

  16

  Lizzy had been right when she’d told me all I had to do was lay around. The entire photoshoot consisted of me lounging in bed, just like I had on the fake grass, only this time I was enveloped by smooth silk and not being poked by scratchy artificial turf.

  I still felt a little self-conscious about the outfit, but Grant was the ultimate professional and not once made me feel awkward or embarrassed despite the situation I’d found myself in, namely, rolling around in sheets wearing lingerie.

  “You really are a lifesaver,” Lizzy told me again once it was all over and I’d changed back into my normal clothes. “We scheduled multiple photoshoots on the same day to save money on the studio rental space, and it would have been a waste if we couldn’t get this one done.”

  “No problem,” I told her, even though it had been a little bit of a problem. She could at least have warned me about what I’d be wearing before asking me to agree. But I had to admit, the negligee was really more of a short, thin nightgown. Any other person probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at seeing it. I was sure there were certainly worse things I could have found myself wearing.

  Not to mention, it was almost worth it just to see the look on Evan’s face. It was gratifying to know he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I only wished now that I had something at home I could wear to get him to make that same slack-jawed expression. All I owned were the same plain cotton underwear and bras he’d bought for me that first day. Not exactly the greatest turn on.

  “Thanks for driving me home,” I told Lizzy. “I don’t know where Evan ran off to so fast.”

  “It happens sometimes,” she said.

  “Do you think he’s okay?” I asked, becoming alarmed. He hadn’t seemed upset when he left — in fact, if anything he had been entirely reluctant to do so — but I’d never seen Evan upset at anything really, so that didn’t tell me much.

  “Every so often Evan will get a call and have to take off,” Lizzy told me. “He doesn’t say much, but I think it’s a family thing.”

  Evan had never mentioned anything like that to me. In fact, he’d rarely mentioned his family at all. He liked to tell funny stories, and he liked to talk about his art, but much of our conversations revolved around me, and how I was getting along.

  Now that I thought about it, Evan knew a whole lot more about my problems than I knew about his. The thought made me feel guilty. Here he was, helping me with all my troubles, and I’d barely thought to ask him about his. I made for a terrible girlfriend.

  If that was what I even was to him in the first place. We still hadn’t had that talk. The relationship status talk. It wasn’t that I was afraid to bring it up, exactly. I just didn’t know how one went about it. How soon was too soon to discuss the matter? Was there an appropriate amount of time to wait? How did you broach the topic to begin with?

  Maybe I was overthinking things, but I didn’t want to mess up what I had with Evan. I’d never felt this way with anyone else, and I couldn’t risk doing something to ruin it.

  Not that I thought he would kick me out if I said the wrong thing. Evan wasn’t like that. But I hated the idea of making things awkward between us. We lived together and worked together. That had the potential to cause a lot of problems.

  Best to just keep my head down and let Evan take the lead. Besides, he seemed to know what he was doing a whole lot better than I did, in just about every aspect of life. He had stuff figured out. Whereas I…

  I suppressed a sigh so Lizzy wouldn’t look over at me while she drove and take her eyes off the road.

  I most certainly did not have anything figured out. That was, aside from one thing. I knew I wanted to be with Evan. I could sort out the rest later.

  I did, however, make a resolution to ask Evan more about himself. I didn’t want this relationship to be one-sided, only about me and my needs. I had been selfish, thinking only of myself. I vowed that I would be a better… whatever I was, if I wasn’t quite at the girlfriend stage yet.

  “Here we are,” Lizzy said as she pulled up to the apartment. “Thanks again for today.”

  “I had fun,” I told her, and it wasn’t a lie.

  “Does that mean you’d be interested in doing more modeling?” she asked, looking hopeful.

  “If you were ever in a pinch again I wouldn’t mind helping out,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s something I’d want to pursue.”

  “Before you go…” Lizzy rooted around in the backseat of her car before I could step out. “Here, I’ve got something for you.”

  She handed me a plain paper shopping bag.

  “Are you paying me in unmarked bills?” I asked, half-joking.

  “I pulled a few strings.” She beamed widely and gave me a knowing look. “Tell Evan he owes me one.”

  “Owes you?” I blinked down at the bag in my hand, but it was tied closed so I couldn’t see what was inside it.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said with a laugh as she drove off.

  I let myself into the apartment, bewildered at Lizzy’s unknown gift.

  “I’m home,” I called out.

  There was no response. I poked my head into the spare room with the weight set, but Evan wasn’t in there. He must have still been out.

  I set the bag on the kitchen table and opened it, peering inside. I found scraps of familiar red silk and lace. Lizzy had given me the negligee.

  Oh my god.

  She had said Evan owed her one.

  My face flamed. I put my hands to my cheeks, my heart beating fast as I imagined putting the thing back on and watching that hungry look appear in Evan’s eyes again.

  I had originally thought this outfit was the kind of thing a girl wore to seduce someone. And it certainly had seemed to work, from the few moments I’d had with Evan before he’d had to reluctantly take off.

  Was I ready for that? Evan and I had agreed to go slow, and so far we had. Aside from that evening on the sofa, we had mostly stuck to kisses and snuggles.
He had been patient with me, and I was grateful to him for that.

  However, I couldn’t deny my imagination had been inventing a dozen different scenarios that didn’t involve patience in the slightest. Every brush of his fingers, every touch of his lips, every significant look we shared… All of it made my insides tingle and ache, and had me wondering if maybe patience was actually overrated.

  But even if I was ready, was I even capable of doing something like this? Being the seducer? Being the one to entice and tease?

  I took the thin fabric in my hand and sat heavily on a kitchen chair.

  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

  17

  Evan didn’t come home for a few more hours, so I puttered around the house for a bit, tidying things up, putting things away, and doing the dishes — I’d actually learned to stop dropping things — before I settled onto the sofa for a re-read of my favorite book.

  I had considered trying to make dinner but decided against it. For one, I didn’t know when Evan was going to come home and I didn’t want to risk the food sitting around getting cold. For another, I still really sucked in the kitchen, and unless I wanted to feed the both of us a bowl of cereal for dinner, it was better if I waited until he came home. Maybe we could finally order those burritos he had talked about.

  I had just gotten to the good part, where the girl who talked to ghosts got tangled up with the sexy, mysterious mercenary, when Evan walked through the door. I put the book down and jumped to my feet.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” I told him as he put away his shoes in the hallway closet. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine now, all good,” he said. “How did the rest of the photoshoot go?”

  My eyes unconsciously wandered over to the bag sitting on the kitchen table that still contained the lingerie. I hadn’t known what to do with it, so I’d kept it there for now. I fought down a flush.

  “Everything went well,” I told him. “There wasn’t any more twirling.”

  “Good,” he said with a grin. “Because I’d hate for you to be sick before burrito night.” He brandished a take-out box with a flourish. “Dinner is served.”

  Now I was really glad I hadn’t decided to make soggy cereal.

  “You’re always making me dinner or buying me food,” I told him. “I’ll have to make it up to you someday.”

  “Why don’t you show me one of your favorite foods next time?” he asked. “Unless it’s some kind of fancy caviar and escargot because then I think I’ll pass.”

  I made a face. Sure, my family was well off — okay, very well off — but it wasn’t like we ate that way all the time. Only on special occasions, or when my parents threw fancy parties, or when an important person came to visit or…

  Okay, I supposed we did eat that kind of thing quite often.

  “That’s not my favorite food,” I told him.

  Evan came over and wrapped his arms around me for a welcome home hug. It warmed me to my very core. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Just the soothing thump-thump-thump was enough to make my head go woozy. Not to mention that earthy-sweet smell of his. It was only a faint whiff, but the scent tickled my nose and made my insides go mushy.

  “What is your favorite food, then?” Evan asked. His fingers pressed into the small of my back, making it hard to concentrate long enough to answer.

  “Birthday cake,” I replied. “With vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles.”

  He pulled back to cock his head at me.

  “That’s an interesting favorite food,” he said.

  I knew he was fishing for an entertaining story, but my reason wasn’t all that fun. It was actually more sad than anything. Like most things in my life, it was turning out.

  “My parents always made a special deal out of my birthday,” was all I said.

  No need to tell him it was the one day they actually paid attention to me instead of simply making up for their lack of care and affection by showering me with money and gifts. Of course, there was always lots of that, too. But for that one day a year, it was as if I actually had a real mom and dad, not just a distant mother and father.

  But I’d decided I had enough talking about me. I wanted to know more about Evan.

  “Are burritos your favorite food?” I asked.

  “I don’t know if I have a favorite food,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

  “Except for caviar and escargot,” I teased.

  “I’ve actually never tried them,” he said. “Escargot is cooked in lots of garlic and butter. Doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe it’s my favorite food and I don’t even know it.”

  “You do know it’s cooked snails, right?” I asked. “Rubbery, chewy cooked snails.”

  “I was trying not to think about that part.”

  “You must have a favorite food, though,” I said. “Or at least something you always fall back on when you don’t know what you feel like.”

  He held up the bag of burritos. “If that’s what a favorite food is, I guess this is it. Want to dig in?”

  I hurried to put the bag with the lingerie in the spare room and went to set the kitchen table. I couldn’t cook, but at least I knew how to arrange a plate, knife, and fork.

  Evan raised an eyebrow when he saw me place the utensils.

  “You’re not going to need a knife and fork for this,” he said.

  He unwrapped one of the burritos, peeling the foil paper halfway down, and handed it to me. I examined the thick, weighty thing from all sides.

  “It’s the size of my arm,” I told him before taking a dainty nibble from the corner and chewing.

  “Take a bigger bite,” he said. “You only got a mouthful of tortilla. You want to get at the good stuff.”

  I gave him a skeptical look but did as he said, opening my mouth wide and chomping down in the middle of the burrito. My eyes went wide and I let out a muffled exclamation, making sure to keep my mouth closed.

  “It’s good, right?” Evan asked.

  I nodded vigorously as I swallowed, ready to take my second bite.

  Before I knew it, the entire burrito had disappeared into my stomach.

  “That was delicious,” I told him. “Can we have burritos for dinner every night?”

  “That’s the perk of being an adult,” he said. “We can have anything we want for dinner.”

  If that was the definition of adult, then I supposed I hadn’t been one until I’d left home. Was it odd that at the age of twenty-two I still ate whatever was placed in front of me at dinner time, even if I didn’t particularly care for it? The cooks went to so much trouble every day, after all, and I didn’t want to make them feel bad by not eating what they made.

  Besides, I’d experienced the disapproving frown on my father’s face enough times as a kid that I’d long since learned not to be a picky eater.

  “We can even have birthday cake for dinner if you want,” Evan continued.

  The thought was inconceivable. It was scandalous.

  I loved it.

  “When’s your birthday?” I asked. “I’ll have to practice baking so I can make you a homemade cake.”

  Evan chuckled, but his eyes were soft. “You don’t have to learn to bake just for me.”

  “I want to,” I said. “I promise I’ll try not to burn down the kitchen.”

  “You’ve got some time to practice,” he said. “My birthday isn’t for another six months.”

  “Oh,” I said, disappointed. I’d sort of hoped I could do something nice for him soon.

  “Don’t look so sad,” he said. “We’re adults, remember? You can have cake for dinner any time you want.”

  I put bake Evan a cake on my ever-expanding list of things I wanted to do, not only for him but for myself. After all, what kind of person didn’t know how to make their own favorite food?

  “Do you do anything special for your birthdays?” I asked. “Any traditions?”

  He
concentrated on taking another huge bite of his burrito, chewing slowly and swallowing before answering.

  “When I was younger, my mom would sometimes throw a party with my school friends,” he said. “I don’t do much for my birthdays now. Maybe get together with some friends at a bar and have some drinks. It’s not much different than any other night out, except someone else covers my tab.”

  I vowed that Evan wasn’t going to have to wait six months to celebrate a proper birthday with a proper birthday cake.

  “How old are you, anyway?” I asked him.

  “Twenty-six,” he said.

  “You’re not that much older than me,” I said.

  And yet, it felt as if there was a lifetime of difference between us. I knew it wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t any game of life, no prize for the person who lived it up the most.

  Still, I couldn’t help feeling like Evan was halfway to the finish line while I’d barely taken one space beyond the starting point. Or maybe I’d been stuck in the equivalent of Monopoly jail and I had only just now rolled the right number on the dice to set myself free.

  I was startled from my thoughts by Evan pecking me on the lips. I resisted the urge to melt into his arms.

  “When’s your birthday?” he asked.

  “It was two months ago,” I said.

  “Damn, we’ll have to wait a whole year to celebrate.”

  He had a hang-dog expression on his face and, oddly enough, it filled me with joy that my special day was just as special to him, too. An intriguing thought entered my mind and I filed that one away on my To Do list, as well.

  “I’ve got some work to finish on an illustration and then I need to do my workout,” Evan said. “Will you be okay hanging out by yourself for a while?”

  “I’ve got my favorite books,” I told him. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  He gave me another kiss, slower this time, lingering until my body began to buzz with anticipation, then pulled back. It was just enough to send me reeling, and from the smirk on his face, he knew it, too.