Hold Me Close: A Cinnamon Roll Box Set

by Talia Hibbert

  He didn’t care.

  Ruth opened her door just as quickly as he opened his, and that bolstered Evan’s resolve. She wanted to see him. He knew it, and yet he wasn’t completely sure until they were face to face. She stood in the doorway and he stood on her doormat.

  He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

  She blinked. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t mean to, and it was selfish, and I shouldn’t have done it, and I’m sorry.” Huh. He was babbling. He’d never babbled before. But this apology had been trying to burst from his lips for two days, and he found that being at odds with Ruth did not suit him. Not at all.

  “Okay,” she said, and he relaxed. Because her lips were tilted in that almost-smile, the one he’d worried he might never see again. Then she said, “I’m sorry too.”

  This was a night full of surprises.

  Evan came in, trying not to focus on the door he’d leant against when she’d—well. “You are?”

  “Yes. For waking you up.”

  He bit his lip, felt a smile spread slowly over his face. “You didn’t wake me up.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No. You didn’t. Still sorry?”

  She shut the door behind them and stood there, fiddling with a loose thread at the end of her pyjamas. He saw the moment she steeled herself, saw the moment she straightened her spine and took a fortifying breath. “Yes. I’m still sorry.”

  “Okay.” He studied her, drinking in everything he’d missed. Her wide, brown eyes, her lips and her too-big front teeth. But he kept his voice neutral as he said, “For what?”

  “For the other day. I lost my temper and I said some things that just… aren’t true. I know you’re not a malicious person, and I’m sure you weren’t gossiping about me, and—and I ‘d like to talk. To you. About things.”

  Evan tried to tamp down his optimism. It felt like trying to fight the dawning sun. “Things?”

  Ruth nodded. “Things. I, um… I had decided to tell you, actually. To tell you everything. On Friday.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself. I had decided to tell you. And he’d fucked it up and taken away that choice—or attempted to.

  “Really?” he managed.

  “Really. And I shouldn’t have gotten so angry—”

  “There’s no should or shouldn’t when it comes to anger.” He wanted to touch her, purely because she looked so stiff and alone standing before him. But he rather thought she should make the first move, break the imaginary barrier. “You feel how you feel and that’s fine. The important thing is talking through it.”

  “I know,” she said quickly. “I know that. I mean, I’m going to do that. I realise I’m kind of prickly. I’m, um, trying not to be.”

  Evan smiled slightly. “I don’t know about that. I like prickly.”

  Ruth blinked. She actually looked surprised—not just surprised, but really, truly shocked.

  Which bothered Evan beyond reason, because she shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t want her to change. Or rather, she shouldn’t be surprised that anyone wouldn’t want her to change. “I like you,” he explained. “A lot. And you’re prickly, so I like prickly. That’s it.”

  After a moment, Ruth’s tentative smile returned. “Well, okay. I suppose I like you too.”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “You love me. I bet you knocked over a mountain of comics just to get my attention.”

  “I certainly did not! No man is worth that disorganisation.”

  “Really?” He arched a brow.

  She managed to hold back her laughter for a second or two before a rogue giggle escaped. And then she kicked him, very gently, which was almost her version of a hug.

  So Evan gave in to the urgings of his heart and pulled her in for an actual hug. She made a strangled little noise, but she came, and she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.

  “I don’t want to argue,” Evan murmured, burying his face in her hair. He had to bend at an awkward angle to do it, but it was worth it to breath in that coconut scent. “Ever.”

  Her voice was muffled against his chest, but he still heard the humour there. “I think arguments are a necessary part of—” Abruptly, she broke off. But then, after a moment, she continued: “A necessary part of any relationship.”

  Evan pulled back slightly, grasping her shoulders. He looked down at her carefully impassive face and said, “By relationship, you mean…”

  Ruth shrugged.

  With a slow smile, he said, “So what you’re saying is, ‘Evan, we’re in a relationship.’”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you should just ask. Don’t be shy.” She reached up on her tiptoes and patted his head. Then, eyes dancing, she hurried off down the hall.

  He followed. Of course he followed.

  Ruth couldn’t quite believe her own daring, but she wasn’t complaining about it. Turned out, everything was easier when you opened your mouth and words came out, and you didn’t cut them off halfway.

  Evan followed her into the bedroom, probably thinking that they were about to have riotous reunion sex or some such nonsense. They weren’t, of course. She wasn’t quite that far gone.

  Although… he stood in the doorway, and Ruth eyed the thick outline of his dick against his thigh, visible thanks to the soft, jersey material of his clothes.

  Maybe she was that far gone.

  He squinted over at her bed and said, “What the hell happened?”

  Oh, yes. Now she remembered why she’d actually brought him in here.

  “My bed collapsed.”

  He walked over to the pile of wood, dislodged mattress and rumpled bedding, his brows raised. “Yeah. I can see that.”

  “So why’d you ask?”

  He shot her a wry smile, reaching out to tug on her braid. “Quiet, you.” Then he crouched down and lifted the mattress with one powerful arm, which should not have made her core tighten or her pulse spike, but did. Maybe because he was shirtless, and she could see every muscle in his back shift as he did it. Maybe because she was quite pathetically in love with him.

  What?

  Nothing. Look at the muscles.

  Ruth obeyed the more sensible of the two voices in her head and moved on. “Can you fix it?”

  “Is that what you think?” He threw a grin over her shoulder. “That I can fix it?”

  “Are you saying you can’t? Because I’d really hoped to sleep in a bed tonight.”

  For a moment, he was silent. Then he stood, dusting off his hands, and said, “You could sleep in mine.”

  Ruth gave him a look. “Oh I could, could I? How chivalrous.”

  “I’m not being chivalrous. Who put that bed together, by the way?”

  She said, “Daniel.” Then she thought, Oops.

  But nothing bad happened. Lightning didn’t strike, and Evan didn’t stop moving toward her. He slid an arm around her waist and said, “Daniel did a very poor job.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. He’s bad at following instructions.”

  “I bet.” His lips quirked, and then he raised a hand to Ruth’s face and stroked her cheek. Soft, slow, reverent. He said, “I’d like to sleep with you. And I do mean sleep.”

  She licked her lips. “Why?”

  “Because I want to hold you, and I want to know how you look when you wake up in the morning.”

  That, Ruth thought, was quite adorable. The sort of simple romance that she’d never experienced and, judging by the butterflies in her stomach, really wanted.

  But it wasn’t all she wanted.

  Ruth held his gaze and murmured, “I don’t wear pyjamas all the time, you know.”

  His brow furrowed. “Uh… you kind of do.”

  “No. Not when I sleep.”

  His gaze heated, achingly intense. “I see.”

  “Shall we go?”

  “Yes.” As quickly as the word shot from his lips, Evans shook his he
ad. “Wait. Come here.” But she didn’t have to move, because he grabbed her, pulled her closer, and kissed her. Oh.

  Ruth couldn’t stifle the moan that gathered in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lower lip. He began with soft, nibbling kisses that mirrored the gentle touch of his hands at her waist—but slowly, bit by bit, the kiss transformed. Heated. Went nuclear.

  She slid her palms over his bare chest, feeling every inch of soft, hair-dusted skin and taut muscle, before moving lower. As she neared his waistband, Evan growled against her lips. Then, suddenly, he grabbed her arse with firm hands and hauled her up against his body, kissing her harder. His tongue plunged into her mouth, his lips insistent, devouring, and she took all of his passion and returned it with a fire of her own.

  Ruth wrapped her thighs around his waist and felt the growing length of his erection press firmly between her legs. She whispered his name, and he swallowed the sound.

  With reluctance, Ruth broke the kiss.

  He opened his eyes slowly, pupils blown, and murmured, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she panted. Nothing’s ever been so right. “Hurry up and take me to bed.”

  26

  Ruth tore off her clothes as soon as she stepped foot in Evan’s room. No underwear, because she really had been naked when her bed had collapsed beneath her. But she hadn’t wanted to apologise with her tits bouncing around between them, because that seemed undignified.

  She had wanted to apologise, though. Turned out, once you started talking about things, it got way, way easier. And Ruth had discovered there were few people in the world she wanted to talk to as much as Evan.

  She was completely naked and tucked under his boring, blue covers before she realised that Evan was still standing in the doorway as if frozen. She propped herself up on one elbow and asked, “Are you coming?”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “You do realise the most I’ve ever seen of your body is… copious forearm. And some ankle. I’m particularly fond of the dimples above your elbows.”

  “How scandalous.”

  Slowly, he came toward the bed. “What’s scandalous is you in my bed, naked, and completely hidden from view.” He came to stand beside her, staring at the outline of her body beneath the quilt as if he might suddenly develop X-ray vision. “Do you need me to turn the light off?”

  “Oh,” Ruth said. “You think I’m shy.”

  He arched a brow.

  She smiled, feeling quite smug, and said, “I’m not shy.” Then she sat up completely and pushed back the blanket.

  Evan sank slowly to his knees beside the bed, his eyes traversing all the hills and valleys of her body—and then repeating the journey again, slower, as if to savour certain parts. She wondered if she should’ve done this lying down, to minimise the roll situation, but then decided that rolls were fine. If they were going to do anything interesting, rolls would eventually occur. She couldn’t lie down constantly whenever they were naked.

  Plus, Evan didn’t seem to have any complaints.

  He bit his lip as he studied her, his eyes moving from the swell of her breasts to the shadowed space between her legs. She could spread her thighs wider, let him see what he wanted to see instead of hiding it away. But that wouldn’t be half as much fun.

  Because she knew he’d ask, Ruth murmured, “You can touch me.”

  He looked up, his eyes hungry. “Anywhere?”

  “Preferably everywhere.”

  Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a hand to her hip. Which wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—but the slightest touch from him left her breathless.

  “I thought about this,” he said. His hand slid up, slow and steady, over her hip and toward her ribs. “I thought about how you’d look naked, and then I felt guilty.”

  Her breath caught as his hand reached the underside of her breast. “Why guilty?”

  He cupped the mound of flesh, no more than a handful for him. “Because I thought about it too much. And every time I heard your shower start or your bed creak, I imagined touching you. Taking off your clothes and kissing every inch of you and then fucking you—and I’ve never done that. I’ve never fantasised about… about a friend.”

  “Because you’re too noble,” she teased. Then his thumb brushed over her nipple, and her smile became a whimper.

  Evan’s eyes flew to hers. “You like that.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she bit her lip and nodded anyway.

  So he did it again, harder this time, worrying the stiff peak. She could feel her pussy growing wet, the muscles contracting as if searching for something, begging to be filled. Lust riding her, Ruth shoved at his waistband. The fabric slid down easily over his thighs, and his cock bobbed free, beautiful as she remembered, and oh, Jesus, how she’d wanted his.

  But before she could touch him, Evan bent his head over her other breast and took the aching nipple into his mouth. She cried out as his tongue flicked the tight peak with impossible delicacy, even as his lips sucked softly at her breast.

  “Jesus,” she choked out. “Evan. Fuck.” He still worked her other nipple with one thumb, and Ruth stared down at the sight. At his big hand against her skin, the knuckles dusted in golden hair; at his head bent over her breast with singular focus, and the muscles in his naked back. She could see the globes of his arse and imagined how they’d look when he thrust into her, how the muscle would shift beneath his skin.

  Ruth’s own hand ached to move between her legs. But before she could do anything, he released her nipple with a last, hard lick.

  Looking up at her with slightly swollen lips, Evan said, “I want to make you come. You look so pretty when you come.”

  She huffed out a laugh, but the sound was strained. “It’s kind of hard for someone else to make me…”

  “Show me, then. We’ve got time.”

  He said that as if there was no way he’d rather spend that time than trying to get her off. She understood the sentiment, because she’d be willing to spend ages sucking his cock.

  Asking for what she wanted in the bedroom wasn’t a familiar habit, but Ruth had a feeling that Evan would make it easier.

  The words were hard to dredge up, thick and sticky as syrup, but she forced herself to speak because she knew he really meant it. He wanted to know. He was watching her with earnest eyes shot through with thunderous shadow, and his face was so fucking… dear to her, even now, with his hand on her breast and his cock straining between them. Her blood burned through her veins at the sight of his body, and her heart squeezed in her chest at the knowledge that he was Evan. Just Evan.

  “Well,” she managed. “Usually, when someone else makes me come, it’s because they, um, used their mouth.”

  Evan stood, pulling his clothes off completely. It occurred to her that he’d probably been naked too, before her bed collapsed.

  God, she was glad her bed had collapsed.

  He stood before her, his cock rising proudly against his solid waist, his balls heavy between thick, muscular thighs, and she thought maybe she would come tonight. Without the use of her own hand. She had a rather good feeling about this.

  “Lying down?” he asked.

  She blinked, taking a minute to catch his meaning. “I’ve only ever done it lying down.”

  He smirked. “Well, like I said, we’ve got time.” Then he pushed her gently back against the pillows, nudging her into the centre of the bed. For a moment, he slid his body over hers, and a spark of anticipation danced down her spine. His chest grazed the sensitive tips of her breasts, and she felt the weight of his cock between her thighs.

  Then he kissed her gently before moving down her body, his lips trailing over her skin. His mouth brushed along the length of her throat, over the swell of her breasts. He lingered there for a moment, flicking his tongue over each stiff peak, and then he said, his voice hoarse, “I love your nipples.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmm.�
� He gave one a firm suck, and she felt the pull between her legs. Then he released her and continued his journey south. Over her ribs, her belly, her hips, went his mouth. His beard tickled everywhere, the sort of tickle that didn’t inspire laughter so much as panting, half-hysterical moans.

  When his mouth passed her hips, Evan grabbed her thighs. His fingers dug into her flesh just hard enough to make her gasp, and then that gasp turned into a ragged moan when he pushed her legs wider. Ruth felt the slick folds of her pussy spread open, exposed suddenly to the cool air. And then she felt the warmth of his breath against her, the contrast sharp, the anticipation dizzying.

  “You tell me what to do,” he said, “and what not to do.” He pressed a gentle kiss against the inside of her thigh. “Okay?”

  She swallowed, nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Okay.”

  “Good.” His hands slid from her thighs to her pussy, and he parted her further, spreading her open with his thumbs. And then she felt that tongue again, long and strong and yet so delicate, tracing her inner folds.

  Ruth’s breath escaped in a strained gasp, her hips jerking up. And then, because she’d told him she would, she said, “More.”

  He licked the very centre of her desire, his tongue dipping into her, and she moaned. Arched her back. Felt the last of the blood circulating her brain disappear. Still, she needed something else.

  Then his tongue moved up and flicked gently at her clit, and Ruth gave a sharp cry. “Fuck, yes. Evan…”

  He licked faster, and then she felt his finger stroke her entrance. For a second, the heat of his mouth disappeared, and Ruth wanted to scream in frustration because that—that had been almost perfect, and she needed him to keep going.

  Then he pushed the tip of his finger into her, and she felt herself tighten around him automatically. Desperately. Christ.

  “Tell me this is okay,” he said, his voice low and heavy with a lust that belonged, she realised, to her. He was enjoying this. He didn’t just want to make her happy. He was doing it for himself, too.