A rough chuckle distracts me from focusing on his erection and I look into his eyes.
“You still want me?” he asks and it’s only then that my cheeks warm with a blush. My body sways slightly. I murmur my answer. “Always.”
Evan runs the same pointer finger along my upper thigh past my panties and traces the center seam of the cotton, brushing my throbbing clit and sending sparks of heated pleasure through my body. My body leans forward, my hands gripping onto his corded forearms.
“I will never risk making you unhappy again. I promise,” he says. My head is so dizzy with desire, I can only moan in response.
“Tell me,” he says as he slides his fingers under the thin fabric and runs them along my hot core. He pushes against my clit with just the right amount of pressure then nearly slips into me as he runs his fingers back down. My hands fly up to his chest, gripping onto him for balance as my toes curl and my body begs me to ride his fingers.
“Tell me,” he repeats then stops. My heavy-lidded eyes open, and I pull back to object. “Tell me you still want me.”
“I still want you,” I whisper without hesitation; the words rush out of my lips with need and desperation. Before the last word is even spoken, Evan splays his hand on my lower back and pulls me closer to him, forcing my chest against his.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans in the crook of my neck as he forces two fingers deep inside of me. I cry out in pleasure, clinging to him as the sensation nearly topples me.
“Evan.” I moan out his name, but he doesn’t answer as the pleasure builds. It’s been so long but I don’t remember it ever being like this.
It’s so intense, so overwhelming that I know I can’t remain standing for this.
“Evan,” I plead for him to understand, but my head flies back and strangled moans fill the air, both from him and from me as I find my release on his fingers.
My body buckles and shakes as the orgasm rocks through me. I’m paralyzed as Evan moves me to the counter. It’s cold and hard, and I lean against it for balance as slow waves mercilessly continue to flow through my body.
“And your shirt?” Evan asks me as if I didn’t just experience the strongest orgasm of my life.
I grip the counter tightly while I catch my breath, staring at him.
“I want it off,” he commands and with my back to his chest, he tugs the shirt off me. My body sways easily, caving to his every whim. “And these,” he tells me, pushing his hand back down my panties. I’m trapped with my back to his front and his strong arm pinning me to him, his other hand on my hip, keeping me still.
My fingers clutch at his wrist and my blunt nails dig into his flesh as he strums my sensitive clit.
“Evan.” His name is a plea as my body falls forward, and I struggle to take more.
He’s not gentle with his strokes in the least. And I love it. My nipples pebble and my body goes weak with a numbing, blinding intensity.
The pleasure stirs deep in my belly, but like a flame it grows hotter and hotter, warming me and threatening just the same.
It’s only when I come again that Evan slowly pulls my panties from me, leaving them by my feet. I’m not blind to the fact that they’re damp with my desire.
Evan moves his hard erection between my thighs and I widen my stance slightly. He kisses my ear as he runs the head of his dick up and down my folds. A shiver runs through my body. Every inch is covered with a heated pleasure so sensitive to touch, that I shudder from just his hot breath on my neck.
“I love you, Kat,” Evan whispers as he pushes himself deep inside of me. Slowly, stretching my walls. My head falls back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arm in front of me, holding me to him. He reaches up and grabs my throat.
Buried deep inside of me, he whispers, “Tell me you love me.”
“Always,” I say and the word slips out easily, my eyes still closed. I slowly open them to see Evan’s expression. I’m struck by the intensity of his gaze. The need, the desire, the possession. “Say the words,” he commands.
“I’ll always love you,” I tell him softly, the words barely audible.
He crushes his lips against mine as he bucks his hips. The sudden spike of near pain makes me push my head back and scratch along his forearm. He doesn’t stop pounding into me, letting the pleasure build.
He pistons his hips relentlessly, each thrust forcing a pleasured groan from me. I try not to make too much noise, I try to be quiet, but I can’t.
I come again and again, each climax feeling more intense than the last. Evan’s ravenous as he kisses me. He doesn’t stop his hands roaming over my body. He doesn’t stop until I have nothing left, and only then does he bury himself in me to the hilt and find his own release.
Diary Entry Seven
Mom,
I think I’ve lost my mind.
Evan’s like a tornado in my life.
That’s not news to you, but I think that’s how I want it. Crazy and reckless, but deeply rooted and unstoppable.
I’m ready to fight for him, Mom. For us. I’m eager to, even.
I love him. I love what he does to me when he’s with me.
Mom, I’m afraid you’d be ashamed of me if you were still here. That’s the only part that hurts.
But believe me when I tell you that I love him and in all his fucked-upness, he loves me.
That hole I was telling you about before? It’s the one that came when you left, but it’s not there when Evan’s with me.
I think he has a hole in his heart too, Mom.
And I think I’m the only one that can fill it.
I told you I’ve gone crazy, haven’t I?
Maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world, though. I don’t know. I don’t think I care about it much anymore. So long as I keep Evan close to me.
I hope I make you proud. And if not, I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t choose this, but I choose him. I want to see it through.
Chapter 24
Evan
The paper rustles in my hand. It’s a list Pops left on the counter. He didn’t tell me about it, but I’m sure it was for us.
Bottles.
Pacifiers.
Bibs.
Onesies.
It goes on for a bit, but it’s everything I need to buy. I’m not sure if he was going to give it to me, or if he was going to get this all himself. A pain radiates in my chest, right where that beating organ is. I miss him. I’ve never needed to talk to him as much as I do now.
You have to do it. I read the text that buzzes through and then put both my phone and the list in my pocket. I already know what Mason is getting at.
He’s convinced I need to be seen in public. To make sure the tail James has on me sees me keeping my distance, moving on. He wants them to back off and that means I need to look like I’m backing off too. No more of this tit for tat. The plan is to let them think I’ve moved on from looking into James. That I’ve given up or simply decided it wasn’t worth it. It doesn’t matter which.
I stare down the aisle as a kid runs past, holding up a plane in the air and making swooshing noises. It’s crazy that one day, I’m going to have one of them. A kid. A baby first. And before that, a pregnant wife.
It’s fucking terrifying.
This particular setting isn’t what he had in mind and I made sure no one followed me here. Family first, though, and then I’ll take care of the mess. Bars and old hangouts. Then back to the apartment every night before I sneak out to go home. She’s a saint for putting up with me and all of this.
“Hey,” I call out as a young guy in a blue Kiddie Korner T-shirt walks by with a clipboard in his hand. He has to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose when he looks at me. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yeah, I was looking for simple baby things. Like bottles and tiny clothes. Things like that,” I tell him. “I can’t find them anywhere in here.”
“We don’t have infant merchandise. You’ll have to go to Little Treasures,” he responds and
starts walking to the center of the store to point. “Two blocks down and make a right. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s right there on your left.”
“Thanks.”
I rub my tired eyes and walk out of the shop, hearing the ding of bells above my head and I’m instantly accosted by the bitter cold.
Just as I’m shoving my hands into my pockets, I catch sight of Detective Bradshaw.
“It’s one of those days,” I mutter under my breath as he kicks off the wall. Guess the prick was waiting for me.
“Mr. Thompson,” he says, greeting me without a hint of emotion as he closes the distance between us.
I take a few steps forward as a couple of kids run behind me and into the store. Meeting him halfway, I answer him, “Detective Bradshaw, nice to see you again.” Not fucking really.
He huffs a laugh like he heard my thought and says, “I’m glad I found you here.”
“A bit odd that we just happened to run into each other.” Holding his gaze, I let him know that I know he must’ve been following me. “Not my usual hangout.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Your schedule’s a bit different now?”
“A bit.”
“For the best, I hope?” he asks and a prickle runs down my neck. I don’t like it.
“Yeah,” I answer, and my word comes out hard. My back’s stiff and my muscles are wound tight. “You taking me in?”
I wait as he assesses me, enjoying the suspense.
“Should I?”
“I can’t think of any reason off the top of my head.” He doesn’t think my answer’s funny in the least. My lips quirk up into a smirk at his hard-assed expression. “I’m good to go then?”
“You got any new information for me?” he asks, getting to the point of this meeting.
“I got nothing to say.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Protecting someone who wants to issue harassment charges?” he asks me, and I can’t help that my forehead creases with both confusion and anger.
“Oh,” Detective Bradshaw says, finally showing a little joy. “You didn’t hear?” He rocks on his feet like he’s happy to deliver the news. “James Lapour wants us to keep you away from him. He filed for a restraining order and all.”
“That’s why you’re here?” I ask, not sure what to make of James’s move. He went to the cops and maybe I grew up different, but that’s something you just don’t do when you’re neck-deep in criminal shit.
“He said you were snooping around, making him uncomfortable and issuing threats.”
“Threats?” I echo, getting more pissed off by the second.
“Nothing solid we could work with, so I thought I’d give you a shadow.”
“Ah, and thus this wonderful meeting.” I don’t talk to cops. Never have, never will. Half the city’s cops are in someone’s back pocket. Someone’s like Mason and James; the rich someone’s. Not someone’s like me and the kids I grew up with.
“I’m sorry to say I couldn’t really give two shits about James Lapour so if you want me to stay away, I’m happy to keep my distance.”
Detective Bradshaw’s less than pleased with my statement. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks, Detective, am I good to go now?”
“Have a good day,” he mutters as he walks past me, brushing my shoulder as he goes.
I finally bring my hands out of my pocket and open my clenched fist only to see the scrap of paper balled up. My breathing comes in shorter and my blood heats.
This shit has to stop. Right fucking now.
Diary Entry Two
Dear Pops,
I’m ashamed. I feel like I’ve lost complete control and I know it’s hurt Kat.
Help me to be a better husband and take the nightmares away. Please. Just get them out of my head.
It’s just getting worse every night, and it’s scaring my wife.
What kind of a man am I? Dreams are tearing my life apart.
I can’t sleep without seeing you. Don’t get me wrong, I love and miss you so damn much, but you always die in my dreams. You’re gone. All of the memories of our life together are changing. I don’t want them to, but I don’t know how to stop it.
I have them with Kat too, and it’s killing me.
I yelled in my sleep last night, and it woke me up. Kat was crying next to me, Pops. She said she’d been trying to wake me up and that’s when I started screaming.
She’s worried, and I feel like less of a man and husband because I can’t stop it.
Please, Pops, if you’re there and you’re able to, please help me.
I miss you. I can’t stand this.
Please just take it all back.
Chapter 25
Kat
At what point did this become my life?
I’ve been asking myself that question all morning. I’ve showered, I’ve eaten and cleaned most of the townhouse. But my mind is fuzzy with disbelief.
A sigh leaves me at the thought as I hail a taxi just outside our townhouse. The winter weather has lightened up some, and I almost feel like I could wear a light jacket and not this heavy wool coat. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to the cold.
It doesn’t take long for a yellow and black cab to pull to a stop in front of me. Ushering myself in, my mind still fails to grasp all the details of everything that’s happened in only months.
If an author submitted my story to me as a manuscript, I’d tell them it’s too unbelievable. What’s that quote from Mark Twain? Something about how truth is stranger than fiction because fiction needs to make sense.
“Where to, miss?” the cabby asks me as I get in the back seat and close the door.
“Saks on Fifth, please,” I answer confidently, although my nerves creep up. Evan would kill me if he knew what I was doing, but it’s not going to stop me. I need this.
There are only two things I’m certain of.
I can’t afford to let Evan leave me again or else I’ll truly lose my mind.
I’m not going to stay out of this like Evan wants.
The car moves forward, taking me away from the empty townhouse. He’s gone off to meet with Mason and tell him what we agreed on. He’s staying with me, committing to me and our baby. And he promised to move past this. I’ll listen to what he tells me to do, but every night he comes back to me and sleeps with me in our bed. No more secrets and hiding. I have to help him, not let the fear of what might happen ruin what we have in the present.
I’m still pissed that Mason knew when I didn’t. It’s the second knife in my back, but I let it slide simply because it’s not his ring on my finger.
Instead, I focus on the real target here. Samantha Lapour. I’m not over her being with him when we were separated. The hate and jealousy are still there.
She loves Fifth Avenue. What rich New York socialite doesn’t?
I remember her bragging about her apartment above Saks when I first met her. She was so happy to keep it even though she and her husband were happily married. It wasn’t so much a humblebrag as it was just bragging.
That should’ve been my first clue we were never destined to become friends, but her smile was charming and her stories were alluring. I’ll admit, I was dazzled.
The cabby stops before I’m ready, my nerves getting the best of me, and it’s only then that the weight of what I’m doing makes my stomach churn.
I pay the cabby, slipping out and onto the curb to avoid the traffic.
My pulse races faster and faster, adrenaline surging as I make my way through the throngs of people and into the apartment foyer, disappearing from the crowd and readying myself to knock on her door on the fourteenth floor.
I don’t know the exact address, though. There are only so many up here, so if at first I don’t succeed, I’ll simply try again.
My legs are shaky as I climb the stairs; I should have taken the elevator. Some small part of me is quite aware that the decision was made to eat up time.
“Good evening,”
a feminine voice says, and I have to raise my gaze to watch an older woman with a stylish white bob and a small Pomeranian in her arms close the door to 1401. There are only two other apartments on this floor, the one I’m sure Samantha told me about.
But that was years ago …
“How are you?” I greet the woman as if I’m supposed to be here, as if I’m visiting a friend and not a woman I have every intention of warning to stay the hell away from me and my family. In an effort to be convincing, I open my clutch, keeping my eyes on her with a simper plastered on my face. I’m sure it looks like I’m getting out a key or maybe my phone to call a friend.
The woman simply smiles tightly and nods then carries on her way, not answering the question. I hesitate, glancing between the remaining two doors and wondering which one I should knock on first.
This is crazy.
My heart races and a mix of adrenaline and anxiousness make me question why I’m even here.
The real answer, the absolute truth, hisses in the back of my head.
She was with him. In his family house.
Two confident strides and I knock, one, two, three times on 1402. I don’t breathe until I take a small step back and wait.
Silence. No response. The confidence threatens to leave with every second that passes, but the moment I take a step to the right, to knock on the only other option, the door opens.
In red silk pajamas and her hair in curlers, Samantha looks so different from any other time I’ve seen her. She wasn’t expecting company, that’s for sure.
Her expression is nothing but irritation at first, and then she recognizes me.
“Oh, hello,” she says, greeting me somewhat easily but with her lips pressed in a thin straight line as she stands up straighter. “Kat.”
I have to clear my throat before I can answer her. “Samantha,” I respond in the same stiff way. “I apologize for dropping by with no notice. I was hoping I could talk to you.” Clutching my purse with both hands in front of me, I add, “It’s about Evan.”
You Know I Need You: Book 2, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine Duets 4) Page 14
