More Than Crave You

by Shayla Black

  The instant we reach the cool space, I topple her onto the crisp white bed and follow her down, shoving myself even deeper into her body.

  We groan together. The sensations are like a supernova—hot, unstable, never meant to last.

  I set a pace that’s rapid and harsh. It feels as amazing as the first time, but I’m fucking her with the desperation of a man worried that this time with her will be my last. I grip her hips, nip at her shoulder, and plunge my way into her with enough force to send her sliding up the slick sheets.

  “Evan…”

  Yes, I feel her tense. I’m right there with her, bucking and stroking toward the titanic explosion I know is almost on us.

  “I’m here. Open your eyes. Look around.” I have to hold myself together long enough for her to do that.

  Her lashes flutter up so slowly, it’s as if her body is using all its resources simply to breathe and process the pleasure. Finally, she blinks a few times and the room must come into focus because she gasps. “The fireplace!”

  “And the house. They can be ours,” I assure her between gritted teeth and hard strokes. “Just. Say. Yes.”

  Nia doesn’t answer, simply drags in another breath and stares at me, stunned. Damn, I can’t not kiss her. She’s the song stuck in my head. She’s the fever igniting in my blood. I can’t not be inside her in every way possible.

  I take her mouth under mine one more time, and the pace of my thrusts ramps up. She’s clamping down like her orgasm is right there, and I can’t slow down. For good measure, I grind against her on the downward stroke and drag my crest against all the spots that make her clutch me and mewl.

  And that does it. Her thighs and her body begin to quiver. Her breaths get faster. Her moans sound throatier. “Evan…”

  “Say yes.”

  “Evan…” She’s wailing now. It’s prolonged, low, and loud as her fingers bite into me. She looks at me like there’s something she wants to say.

  “Give it to me.” One word. I can’t voice the rest of my demand because ecstasy notches up and nearly pulls me under.

  “Evan, I-I…” She blinks, parts her lips, and seems to lose herself in my stare for timeless seconds. “I love you!”

  Then she falls into climax.

  Her words trip across my brain. I’m stunned. I’m shocked. That admission should not turn me on more. But it fucking thrills and unhinges me. It undoes me.

  As far as I’m concerned, that’s a yes.

  The orgasm I’d been holding at bay breaks my restraint. My body takes over. My blood surges. A growl tears from my throat. I erupt and give myself over to Nia. If I thought our first time was amazing, the second is beyond all comprehension. I’m never letting her go. She will be my wife.

  My spine melts more with each thrust. I meld into her, become one with her, as we share the shuddering ecstasy.

  I’m light-headed and panting when I’ve sated the desire. Slowly, my breath returns. Reason reasserts itself. And I remember my plan.

  With a grimace, I withdraw from the hot clasp of her body. I don’t want to, but it’s essential.

  “Evan?” She sits up, her face tightening. “Say something.”

  I’ve never seen her expression so hesitant, her eyes so vulnerable. Because I didn’t tell her I love her. But I have more than words to bestow on her. The house. The sex. And the thing I should have given her weeks ago.

  “Nia, honey… Everything is fine. In fact, everything is great.” I reach into the nightstand beside her, pull out a box, then kneel at her feet. “Because you are everything I want and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. I want to make you smile. I want to make you happier than you’ve ever imagined. I want to devote myself to you. Every day.” Then I open the box to reveal the massive engagement ring I bought last weekend. When her eyes flare in shock and she covers her gaping mouth, I smile. “Nia Wright, marry me?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Oh, my god,” Nia gasps.

  Why does she look shocked—and not in a good way? “Aren’t you happy? I thought you were saying yes.”

  “No.”

  She’s serious.

  “What? You said you loved me.” Gaping, I close the ring box and stagger to my feet. “Why are you saying no?”

  “What I mean is, I’m not answering your proposal right now. I’m…processing.”

  I still don’t understand. “Processing what? The fact I gave you a ring? I’m just showing you I’m completely serious about getting married.”

  “I appreciate that you arranged this grand romantic proposal, but I still don’t know how you feel?”

  “Excited about our lives together.” I dodge the L-word because I’m focused on giving her everything I can, not what I can’t. “I intended to get married for practical reasons—until I touched you. Until I looked right in front of me and realized you’re exactly who I need. Who I want. You’ve dated a lot of guys who didn’t treat you the way they should have. I’ll be different. I’ll be devoted. I’ll be faithful. I’ll show you every day that you’re the best thing in my life. Say yes. Make me the happiest man.”

  She bites her lip. “I want to. I think you mean all that. Just like I think you believe it’s enough.”

  Is Nia really going to refuse me?

  “It is. There’s no logical reason for you not to be my wife.”

  “Except that you don’t love me.” Nia swallows. “And I don’t know that you intend to. Will you let yourself fall for me? Ever?”

  I push the ring box into her hands. “Does this look like I won’t adore you? Like I won’t pamper you and shower you with affection?”

  Nia barely glances at the five carats of cushion-cut solitaire before she sets the ring on the mattress beside her. “Evan, that’s not the same as love.”

  Maybe not, but why isn’t that close enough? I grit my teeth and try to hang on to my composure. “Don’t say no.”

  She pauses such a long time, and I find myself holding my breath. If she refuses me, I’m not sure what else I can do to persuade her.

  Finally, she presses her lips together. “I don’t want to. But I told you how I feel. Being with you has made me feel things… The way you touched me just now, I would have sworn you felt the same way.”

  The fact I’m not professing my undying love hurts her. I’m surprised by how much knowing that hurts me in turn. “Nia, there’s no one else for me. I will give you every part of myself—my attention, my protection, my dedication, my fortune, my commitment.”

  “But not your heart.”

  How do I reassure her without giving her the words simply because she wants to hear them? “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never felt about any woman the way I feel about you, not even Becca. It’s like…I’m connected to you in a way I can’t explain. And I don’t want to live the rest of my life without you by my side. I don’t know what you call that. I don’t know the words for it. But I know that’s what’s happening with me.”

  When I take her hand, she meets my stare with tear-filled eyes. “You confuse me.”

  “I’m confused, too. You’re really not accepting my proposal?”

  She cups my cheek. “Everything in my head tells me to say no and walk away, let you move to Maui alone. But I can’t.”

  Hope burns hot and instant. “So…you’re saying yes?”

  Nia shakes her head. “The first time you asked me to marry you, you said I could give you my answer before you relocate here. I need the next six weeks to decide.”

  “We can’t just keep dating.” It’s not working. I’m spending time with her, but we’re not close enough. It’s not intimate enough. We’re working together but leading separate personal lives. That hardly gives me the opportunity to convince her I can make her deliriously content even if I never speak that trio of cliché words. “It’s not enough.”

  She blows out a breath. “Let me think.”

  I disappear into the bathroom, fighting the completely irrational urge to punch
a wall. Why is she clinging to some unnecessary, antiquated notion of hearts and flowers? Why doesn’t her logical mind tell her that I’d be so good to her?

  Because she leads with her heart. Always has.

  Fuck.

  After I dispose of the condom and take a minute to bank my frustration, I emerge to see her, legs gathered against her chest, chin on her knees, slowly rocking. She’s distraught. Guilt assails me. I should back down, but that seems too much like giving up—something I’m not prepared to do.

  “Are you…breaking up with me?”

  Nia lifts her head and regards me, brows furrowed. “No. I won’t deny there’s something strong between us. You say you’ve never felt this way about anyone. I haven’t, either. Ever.”

  “Then let’s get married. We’ll figure everything out together.”

  Before I even finish speaking, she’s already shaking her head. “That’s not what marriage is for. I only want to get married once.”

  “I wanted that, too. But guess what?” I snap. Instantly, I wish I could take the words back. It’s not Nia’s fault that Becca is gone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Her death hurt you, and I understand you never thought you’d find yourself single and searching again. You’re entitled to be confused. Angry even. Maybe I should be the one backing off so you have more time to grieve and decide—”

  “I don’t need time. I know what I want.” I grab her arms. “I want you.”

  “But not because you love me.” She wriggles free. “I’m not a consolation prize.”

  “Damn it. Do you not understand?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m trying to see this from your point of view. You don’t want to be alone or with someone you don’t like. And you don’t want to be with someone you have lousy sex with. I’m available, we’re friends, and when we’re together, it’s all blazing skies and fireworks. Check, check, check. But I’m more than items on your list. I’m a woman.” She claps an emphatic hand to her chest. “Maybe you don’t relate, but I have feelings and dreams. And never once did I imagine myself saying, ‘Even though you don’t love me, I’ll marry you for your companionship and your checkbook, baby.’ That’s not who I am.”

  I sigh. She’s right. “How can we compromise?”

  Nia falls silent. I feel my blood pressure rise. I’m not angry at her, just at the situation I don’t know how to solve. Why doesn’t simple logic make this better?

  Nia rises from the bed and disappears onto the patio. I zip up my shorts and follow her out to the streaming late afternoon sun. She’s wriggling into her clothes with shoulders slumped, as if she feels defeated.

  God, I can’t stand that. I hate that I’ve made her feel that way.

  As she slides into her sandals, I approach her from behind and cup her shoulders. “Nia? Honey…”

  But I don’t know what to say. I have no answer except that I know she’s the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. I’m also convinced that, despite being in love with me, Nia is perfectly capable of living without me.

  “Right now, I don’t see how we work this out,” she admits.

  “We need more time together.” Maybe an afternoon isn’t enough for her to see how sincere I am. “Not at work. Time for just the two of us to focus on nothing but each other.”

  Slowly, she nods, nibbling on her lip. That’s her I’ve-got-an-idea face. She’s still working it out; I can tell. But something is forming.

  “What if we lived together for the next six weeks?” She turns her focus on me. “See what develops between us?”

  I don’t love the idea…but I don’t hate it, either. It’s better than the two of us heading back to the mainland to live in our respective pads, only to see each other in the office or on occasional dates. A few weeks ago, I would have celebrated home-cooked meals and a cleaner apartment. But just being next to Nia is way more important than any of that. Getting to kiss her good morning…and worship her body all night. It gives me time to truly sweep her off her feet so she can’t say no.

  “That makes sense. You want to be sure before you say yes, and this will help.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “I’m already sure. But if you need more time—”

  “I do. And I honestly think you do, too. I know you want to move on, but I think you need to ask yourself where your heart lies. If you can tell me how you feel about me in six weeks and you still want to marry me, maybe I’ll say yes.”

  What she means is, if I can spew out a confession of love.

  Fuck. This kind of emotional tripe goes against my grain. She knows that. Does she expect that I’ll suddenly become impractical and sentimental and fall madly in love? Even as invested as I was in my marriage to Becca, I wasn’t that guy.

  On the other hand, my only options are to convince her we should be married or for me to spend all my foreseeable days alone.

  “I’ll make sure that maybe is a yes. When we get back, you can move your things into my penthouse—”

  “No.”

  I raise a brow at her. “Why not? I have a bigger place. It’s closer to the office. I have an amazing view.”

  “All of that is true, but your wife’s ghost is everywhere, and I won’t be living with her, too.”

  I pause. Maybe there’s some truth to that. I think of Becca less these days. I don’t imagine I’m seeing her out of the corner of my eye as often. But so much of her presence still lingers there. Every morning when I get dressed for work, I pass her clothes. I’ve never packed them away. I open the home office we shared and her meticulously organized papers still take up half the desk drawers because I’ve never bothered to cull through them. The few personal pictures in the apartment are those she hung. The handful of knickknacks and throw pillows I possess, she bought.

  I might hate to leave the comfort of my bed, my shower, and my quiet. But I wouldn’t want to live in any space in which Nia has cohabitated with another man. Every time I got inside her, I would wonder if she remembered having sex with him in the same bed.

  “Have you lived in your place with an ex-boyfriend?”

  Her face softens. “No.”

  “Had one spend the night there?”

  Her expression closes up. “I’ve had a sex life; we’ve established that.”

  “So that’s a yes?” I clench my jaw and look for alternatives. “Then we need to find someplace else.”

  “To live for six weeks? That makes no sense.” She sighs. “Look, before you, I hadn’t had sex in nearly six months. I haven’t had anyone stay over at my place in almost a year.”

  I don’t intend to get stubborn, but I can’t seem to help it. “But if you’ve fucked someone else on that mattress, it’s a no for me.”

  She scowls at me. “Actually, we fucked on the couch, then we fucked on the bed. What is your problem?”

  I bristle. “I don’t want to imagine anyone else touching you. And I don’t want you thinking about it, either.”

  “I’m here with you.”

  “Then humor me. Let me replace the couch and the mattress.”

  “You’re serious?”

  I slant her an expression that tells her my mind is absolutely set. “When am I not?”

  Suddenly, she laughs. “If I told you we had sex on the kitchen counters, would you replace those, too?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “No. I just really despise them.”

  Despite the tension, I laugh, too. “If it will make you happy, I’ll replace them anyway.”

  “No. The place is only a rental, but a girl can dream.” Then she blinks and looks around, seeming to remember where we are. “Did you already…buy this place?”

  “I leased it for the day.”

  “Just because I said I liked it?” She still sounds shocked.

  “Yes. I wanted you to spend some time here to see if you liked it well enough to want to live here. With me.” As my wife.

  “Evan, this may not wo
rk out. We may not work out. And I may not be moving to the island at all.”

  “I’m going to think positive. Maxon and Griff have been negotiating with the listing agent. They’ve nearly brokered a deal everyone can live with. All you have to do is say you like it.”

  Her mouth gapes open. “This is millions of dollars. You have to like it, too.”

  “It has a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and couch, along with a great place for a flat screen and my gaming console. My needs are met.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s such a man thing to say. You really don’t care about style or decor or…”

  “No. I care about making you happy.”

  A heavy sigh passes her lips. “If we can’t agree on our future, why do you keep saying such nice things?”

  She sounds conflicted, and I feel almost guilty. Almost…but not quite. It’s my job not to take no for an answer. I have to convince Nia that those three words she thinks she can’t do without aren’t vital. It’s my job to treat her like a princess and show her she needs me far more.

  “I’m only ever honest with you.” I scratch my chin with a deprecating grin. “Sometimes to my own detriment.”

  “I know.” She sounds sad about that. “And I appreciate that you don’t lie to me about your feelings.”

  “I never will, Nia. I promise.”

  She gives me a melancholy nod. She believes me…but it’s still not enough.

  Clearly, I need to focus on more of the good things I can give her. “Let’s tour the house. Maybe after that we can, um…tour the bedroom again?”

  “Sure.”

  I escort her inside and recite all the things the listing agent told me yesterday when we walked the house. She oohs over the kitchen and aahs over the rustic ceiling beams that caught her eye to start with. She loves the place. She loves the view. She loves our walk around the surrounding area. But despite the fact she loves everything I’ve shown her—and me—it’s not enough to persuade her to say yes. Even after the hours we spend together, sharing one passion-filled orgasm after another, gorging on ecstasy until I’m not sure I’ll be able to use my legs again, Nia doesn’t seem any closer to saying yes.