As Good as New

by Jennifer Dawson

  Crisis averted.

  She started counting all the reasons she was lucky to not be pregnant.

  All the logical, pragmatic, sensible reasons.

  When she was under control, and she’d properly shoved whatever emotional outburst she’d been about to have back where it came from, she smoothed down her clothes, washed her hands, and returned to work.

  Never to think about this again.

  * * *

  At nine, Penelope walked in looking exhausted and strained. Evan put down the computer and sat up, making room for her on the couch. “Tough day at the office?”

  She kicked off her shoes and left them in the middle of the floor in a haphazard heap instead of lined up on the stairs like she normally did. “Something like that.”

  She stripped off her suit jacket, threw it on the chair, and crawled onto the couch. “How was your day?”

  It had been a good day, a great day. He’d had four interviews with key members of the coaching and front office staffs, and later the offensive coordinator called him and told him he was currently the front-runner for the job. He had a meeting with the head coach and GM at the end of the week and he was one step closer to securing his future.

  He hadn’t told anyone, and planned to keep it to himself unless he got an offer. If things didn’t pan out, he’d have to sit down and talk to Penelope about options, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

  He tugged her wrist and pulled her so her head rested on his lap. “Better than yours, from the looks of it. Want to talk about it?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes and he began pulling pins from her hair. “What did you do today?”

  “I tried to cook you dinner.”

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said, her voice already heavy and sleepy.

  He stroked her hair off her cheek. “Don’t be. All you missed was the disaster.”

  A smile flirted over her lips. “No good?”

  He dropped the pins on the end table and shifted his fingers through the thick strands. “The guy on YouTube made it look so easy.”

  “They always do.” She yawned. “I just need to rest.”

  “I’ll try not to wake you during the night.” He did that sometimes. Wake up from dreams where he was racing down the field, his blood pumping with adrenaline that had no outlet, a warm, sweet Penelope curled against him. Naked. He’d seduce her awake, then take her with a ferocity that bordered on violent, until they both fell back into an exhausted sleep. He ran a palm down her rib cage.

  She tensed, all her muscles tightening under his touch. With her eyes still closed she said, “Probably for the best. I got my period today.”

  The sharp stab of disappointment that sliced through him surprised him. It wasn’t like he’d actually expected her to be pregnant; in fact, he’d tried not to think too much about the day they’d dropped those pills down the sink. He’d assumed the avoidance stemmed from not wanting to think about the panic he’d probably experience if she was. Now he knew the truth. He hadn’t wanted to think about it because deep down there was a part of him that wanted to get caught. Wanted her to have no excuse but to stay with him.

  He had no idea what to say or how she felt, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Her lids snapped open. “Why? This is a good thing.”

  His fingers played down her body, sliding over the silk of her white blouse and fabric of her gray skirt. If that was true, why was she coiled tight? “There’s not a little part of you that’s disappointed?”

  She sat up as though she’d been catapulted off his lap. “Of course not. That’s the last thing I wanted. God, can you even imagine?”

  Instinct warned him to tread lightly. She was like a skittish colt—or at least what he imagined a skittish colt would act like. One sudden move would send her running. He expelled a breath. “Yeah, actually I kind of can.”

  Her brows slammed together. “Don’t be insane.”

  Everything about her was on edge. Her shoulders were at her ears, her expression too fierce, her voice too high, her eyes too bright. He reached for her and said softly, “Penelope.”

  She reared back before he could touch her. “It’s fine, Evan. Don’t talk crazy.”

  “I’m not saying it’s not for the best. I’m only suggesting that it’s okay to be a little disappointed.”

  “I am not disappointed,” she shrieked, and sprang up from the couch and swiped her shoes from the floor. “I’m going to bed. Maybe you should see yourself out.”

  And with that, she stomped up the stairs and a second later a door slammed.

  Well, shit. Now what?

  * * *

  Penelope locked the door of the bathroom, grabbed a towel and slid to the floor. What had she done? She’d acted crazy and emotional, and she’d revealed far too much. Evan wasn’t stupid, and he was far too in tune with her moods, and her deepest and most intimate thoughts. God, this was humiliating. The last thing she wanted was Evan believing she was all upset because she wasn’t going to live out some tabloid dream of being the NFL bad boy’s baby momma.

  Besides, she was not disappointed.

  Again, she repeated her list of all the reasons it was great she wasn’t pregnant.

  Then she buried her face in the fluffy white towel and the tears that had threatened all day burst forth, and she started to sob. Cry in a way she hadn’t cried since that night Evan deserted her. She hated it. Hated every second of the disappointment she had no right to feel crushing her chest. But she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t get it under control. No matter how much she tried, the tears would not relent.

  There was a knock on the door.

  She raised her head and yelled, “Go away, Evan.”

  She just needed him to go away. To leave her alone. To give her five seconds to breathe and regain her composure.

  “No. I can’t do that, Penelope.”

  She cursed, and buried her head again to stifle the noise of the sob tearing from her throat. Why couldn’t she get him to go? “I want you to leave. I want to be alone.”

  There was noise against the door, and when Evan spoke his voice was more at her level. “No, you don’t. You don’t want me to see you upset. There’s a difference.”

  “I’m not upset!” She ferociously wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  There was a moment of silence. “Then why are you crying?”

  She leaned her head against the door. “Please, just go. I’ve had a really bad day and I want to go to sleep.”

  “I can’t force you to talk, but I’m not leaving you.”

  She needed that other Evan right now. The one who bailed when things got tough. The one who brought home Playboy bunnies and played Xbox and got drunk all day. He’d leave. He wouldn’t even look back. Where was that guy?

  Because she couldn’t handle one more second of mature, understanding Evan.

  When the flow of tears finally ebbed, she took a deep breath, got up and washed her face with ice-cold water. She put drops in her eyes, smoothed moisturizer over her skin, brushed her teeth and hair, and slipped into a nightgown she’d had hanging on a hook behind the door.

  Next time she looked in the mirror there was no evidence of her emotional outburst other than the heavy ache sitting in the center of her chest. She opened the door and Evan sat on the bed, elbows on his knees, wearing a cautious expression.

  Throat swelling, she didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead she walked around to her side of the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to her chin, turning on her side.

  There was a deep sigh from Evan before he got up.

  She held her breath and waited for him to leave, caught between relief she’d be alone and fear he’d walk out and never come back. He had to be wondering what had become of the sane, rational woman he knew.

  When she heard the pull of his belt, she let out a low hiss of air as another tear slipped out of the corner of her eye to fall onto her pillow.<
br />
  There was more rustling of fabric and then a thud on the floor. A second later the bed creaked as he climbed in.

  She tensed.

  He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her temple.

  The strength of his body felt so good against her back, safe and warm. Settled against her he just fit, fit like nobody else.

  She relaxed and he squeezed her tight. Here in the dark, where he couldn’t read her face, she could let herself need him.

  He whispered into her ear, “I wanted to get caught too, Pen.”

  She burrowed deeper into him, his cock brushing the curve of her ass. She didn’t want to think, all she wanted was to get lost in him. She pressed back, tilting her hips.

  He shuddered and his mouth fell to her neck. He kissed the skin there, lips open, tongue sliding along her skin.

  It was like lighting a match and tossing it into lighter fluid, and the flames engulfed her. She craned her neck, tilted her chin, and that was all the invitation he needed for his mouth to claim hers.

  It started out as a soft, gentle kiss, but it was like something snapped between them.

  Everything was hungry. A raw, ravaging desire that would not be satiated. Their mouths a frantic, consuming meld as their tongues met.

  She twisted, facing him, and his hand slid into her hair, gripping her tight and holding her still for his onslaught.

  And he was brutal. Hard. Demanding. Filled with unleashed passion.

  Perfect. Just what she needed, to forget. She moaned and her nails dug into his shoulders. She shifted, throwing her leg over his hip. Pressing closer. Closer.

  His hands sought to gain entry under her nightgown, but the fabric was twisted and prevented access. He squeezed her through the cloth. With him, it was never enough. He could never claim her enough.

  He growled, reached for the straps of silk at her shoulders and yanked them until her breasts spilled free. He cupped them, rubbed his thumbs over the peaks as he kissed her.

  He rolled her nipples, finding that sweet spot between pleasure and pain that drove her crazy, and she cried out. He lifted his head and slid down, capturing her nipple with his lips. He licked and sucked until she was writhing and gasping his name.

  He lifted his head. “What do you want?”

  “You.” God, that was all she wanted. All she needed in this moment.

  He laved the hard buds, lapping and nipping and pinching until they were red and she was rocking against him. Her hands a frantic pull and drag over his skin. “My period.”

  He lifted his head and covered her lips before saying, “I don’t give a fuck about your period.”

  He might not, but she did. She shook her head. “We can’t.”

  He growled, took her hips and flipped her to her back, before rolling against her. “Fine. We’ll do this old-school.”

  He shimmied his hips, then positioned her so her blue panties were flush against his cotton-covered erection. He squeezed her ass.

  “Evan,” she said, her voice hoarse. She pressed her forehead against his and began that slow, ancient grind against him.

  They’d had plenty of practice and they knew just what they were doing. Their hips moved in circles, retreating and coming together in hard little surges. His cock thrust against her clit. And despite not being inside her, she wanted him so bad it wouldn’t take long.

  He moaned, and moved his hands to her questing hips, helping her so they rocked hard together. Her head fell back and her breasts bounced and he dug his fingers into her ass hard enough to leave bruises. It was just what she needed and she moaned out. “Oh God.”

  He increased the pace.

  And she met him, stroke for stroke, pounding against him, working her hips. Sweat slicked down her spine and beaded at her temples, and when the first swell of her climax threatened she pushed it away, not wanting it to end.

  When they were like this, crazy and full of that relentless desire that drove them, nothing else mattered. There was no thinking. No future or past. There was just now.

  “Fuck. Right there.” He played with her nipple, rubbing over the hard peak in circles.

  “Yes,” she said, her hips moving faster and faster.

  He growled. A low, primal sound of satisfaction. He gripped her hips. “I’m going to come all over you.”

  That one image was all it took to push her over the edge. She cried out, moving faster and faster until she came in a wild rush that sent her over the edge. Her nails raked down his back as the orgasm crashed through her in hard, ruthless waves of pure ecstasy.

  He reared up, pulled out his cock, and aimed, his hand flying as all his muscles bunched up tight. He came all over her breasts in hard jerks and angry splashes that landed on her neck and nipples as he decorated her skin.

  Panting for breath, they just stared at each other, their eyes dazed and wide. His chest heaved and he dragged a finger over the wetness, then painted her full, swollen lips. He shook his head. “Fucking gorgeous.”

  Her tongue flicked out and licked over his finger and he groaned.

  She whispered, “Do it again.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me.” He traced a slippery spot over her nipple and something hot shivered through her. “I like you marked.”

  She nodded.

  His eyes met hers. “And you like being marked.”

  She licked him from her lips. “I do.”

  As the aftershocks wore off, and the mad rush of desire calmed, the sadness she couldn’t seem to shake rolled over her.

  She didn’t want to be sad. Didn’t want to feel like she’d just lost something important. She wanted to go back to looking at everything rationally.

  She didn’t want to mourn for a mythical baby she had no right to.

  She ran a hand through Evan’s hair. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I took it out on you.”

  “We should talk.” Even in the darkness she could see the concern on his face.

  “Can’t we just rest? I’m so tired.”

  “All right.” He brushed her cheek. “I’ll get a washcloth so I can clean you up.”

  He rose from the bed, his golden, muscled body beautiful in the moonlight. How had this happened? How was he even in her bed? Sleeping with her every night.

  Making her need him. Love him. Want things.

  She turned to stare up at the ceiling. She wanted to be sane, normal Penny again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  To say the week had been tense was an understatement. It was like Penelope just shut down and Evan had no idea what to do about it. Of course he had no actual relationship skills, having spent the last twenty years screwing around and then taking off when the woman started to expect anything. He’d tried to talk to her, but she kept insisting she was fine. And hell, even he knew a woman saying she was fine was not a good sign.

  He was convinced she was upset about not being pregnant, but she refused to discuss it. Again, saying she was fine. In fact, she’d gone as far as making a doctor’s appointment to get on birth control to prevent any other unfortunate accidents.

  Her words.

  He’d supported her, and logically it was the right move, since sex seemed to be the only thing they had actually figured out, but it didn’t change the instinct that warned him everything was about to go to shit.

  Evan hoped the long weekend in Revival with their friends and family would put things back on track, but only time would tell.

  After miles and miles of Illinois cornfields, abandoned farms, and silence, Evan finally couldn’t take it any longer. He blew out a breath. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.” She stared out the window, her shoulders tightening.

  Frustration turned to anger and he snapped. “You know, this is never going to work out if you won’t fucking talk to me.”

  Still not facing him, she took in a shuddery breath. “Then maybe it won’t work out.”

  “That’s al
l you have to say?”

  “What would you like me to say?”

  “Yell at me. Hell, throw things. Break something. Tell me you hate me. But this silence, this wall between us . . .” He swallowed hard.

  “It feels like before.” She delivered the words quietly, with no real inflection.

  Yes, that’s exactly what it felt like. That last morning between them when everything had been broken and over. And that was just fucking unacceptable. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then swerved to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes.

  That got her attention and she gasped, grabbing the dashboard before whirling to glare at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He just stopped. Stopped trying to figure her out, stopped trying to figure out what she wanted him to say or do. Stopped trying to prove anything to her. Stopped waiting until that magical day when she believed him, because more and more it was looking like that wasn’t going to come. He shifted in his seat and faced her. “Are you ever going to stop trying to push me away?”

  Her already brilliant blue eyes brightened until they were electric, but she didn’t say anything.

  He just gave in to his darkest fears because he didn’t know what else to do. He clutched the steering wheel. “You’re never going to believe me, are you? I broke what we had too well, and now I can’t fix it. You’re never going to trust me with anything but your body, are you?”

  She clutched at her seat belt. “I don’t know if I can.”

  He shook his head. “And I don’t know how to prove something to you that you can’t see, that you can’t calculate in one of your spreadsheets. I have no idea what you’re thinking, or how you feel, and I don’t know how to force you to tell me. I can’t block and tackle my way out of this. It’s like that last hit that did me in. I knew it would be bad, I knew I probably wouldn’t make it, and I still went for the touchdown. So that’s all I can do with you. I’m going to go for the touchdown, Pen. I’ll either win the game or go down in a blaze, but at least I’m not taking the easy way out.”

  The cords in her neck worked as she swallowed and clenched her hands in her lap. “What are you saying?”

  He shifted to face her more fully, then he cupped her jaw and forced her to at least meet his gaze. When her eyes met his, the tears were bright and one slipped down her cheek and he brushed it away. “I love you, Penelope. I have loved you since I was seventeen years old and I will love you when I’m ninety-five. You are, and will be, the only girl I ever love. On the side of the road in the middle of nowhere isn’t where I wanted to tell you. I had some grand gesture in mind. One that somehow would allow you to seep inside me and see how I feel about you. That would convince you.”