by Bethany-Kris
More.
In the dark, hazy fantasy Connor’s mind conjured up of Evelyn, “more” was the only thing she said. Whispered and soft, in that gasped, pleading way of hers, it was only more.
Before he even realized it, his grip had become damn near painful, but he was too far gone to care or to loosen up. The familiar heat bloomed in his spine, and his semen painted the floor of the shower in ropey streams, his low, guttural groan bouncing off the shower walls.
“Feckin’ hell.”
For a long while, as he caught his breath, Connor did nothing but stand there and watch the steady pulse of water wash away his awful truth. His cock finally softened in his hand, which he supposed was a good thing, except that now he had a bigger problem.
He’d like to make that fantasy a reality.
He was pretty sure that was wrong.
He still didn’t care.
Connor assumed Evelyn would still be sleeping in his bed, since his shower hadn’t lasted that long. The walk-in closet attached to his bedroom was only a short walk across from the attached bath. He walked out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, passing the figure on his bed a glance, expecting her to be the same as he had left her.
She wasn’t.
Connor came to a full stop, his grip on the towel at his waist tightening just in case. Evelyn sat cross-legged on the bed, handfuls of his blankets curled around her fists and pooled at her waist. She wouldn’t let him take that damn white dress and give her something else, so she was still wearing that, though it was clean enough.
Her brow furrowed as her gaze traveled over his figure, exploring in a way she hadn’t bothered to before. Connor stayed still, unsure of what exactly to do. He didn’t need to send her running when she was already like a skittish deer, ready to bolt at the slightest whisper.
“You all right, lass?” Connor asked.
Evelyn’s gaze snapped back up to his, and she nodded.
“The door is going to stay open from now on,” he continued, pointing back at the bedroom door, “and you can do whatever the feck you want about it. We don’t sleep in the hallways, though. The door will be open.”
Again, another nod.
Connor glanced at the open door to the walk-in closet. “I’m going to get dressed. There’s leftovers in the fridge downstairs.”
He assumed she would head down there, though probably not eat without him, as he headed into the walk-in closet. His towel had just dropped to the goddamn floor when Evelyn’s figure darkened the closet doorway.
Connor met her gaze over his shoulder as he reached for the matching trousers to a suit he would need to wear to meet up with his father. “You don’t understand the concept of privacy, do you, lass?”
Evelyn’s brow puckered in that way again, though she barely paid his nudity any mind. Her gaze skipped over his backside, and as he turned slightly to grab a pair of boxer-briefs from the dresser, her stare lingered at his cock before going back up to his face.
“You don’t touch me,” she said softly.
Connor’s throat tightened, and he cleared the invisible blockage away as he muttered, “It ain’t my place to, love.”
She didn’t look like she believed that, and given these were some of the very first words she had spoken since that first incident, he wasn’t feeling very inclined to stop her. “You don’t want to?”
Well, he didn’t say that.
“That’s not what I said, Evelyn. It’s not the same thing, but that’s not why you’re here.”
Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why she was there, except he was stupid.
“It’s Sasha,” she mumbled.
Connor perked at that statement. “Pardon?”
“My name is Sasha. That’s what he calls me.”
“Your name is Evelyn.” Connor yanked on his boxer-briefs and then his trousers, letting them hang open and unzipped as he turned to face her. “I know what your name is.”
She shook her head. “It is Sasha.”
Connor wasn’t playing that game. “It’s Evelyn to me.”
A spark of defiance lit up her green eyes, and he almost smiled at the sight. It was yet another sign to him that she was more than a slave in a corner. She was not broken, not entirely, in her mind.
“I’m not supposed to answer to anything else,” she admitted.
Connor shrugged. “I’m not calling you anything but your name, love.”
And her feckin’ name was Evelyn.
“Evelyn Marie O’Neil,” Connor said firmly, “and I won’t use anything else.”
She shared his last name as a girl, but not his blood, he knew. Sean’s relation to Evelyn’s father had only been through paper means by adoption, and not blood. Not to mention, he explicitly remembered the people saying Declan had no children with his wife after he’d died in the fire, and yet … Evelyn had clearly been there.
Where had she come from?
And that bit of information was not well known amongst his father’s people—Sean didn’t discuss his upbringing, or how he had come to be in the O’Neil family, or his adoptive sibling’s life. Even Connor had accidentally stumbled upon the information as a young lad through spying. He’d never sought to validate it, but he was starting to think that might be a good idea, if only to understand his own history a bit better.
He didn’t even know his own mother’s name.
Maybe he could find out if he went looking.
Connor’s mind drifted to another thought as he waited for Evelyn to do something other than stand in the doorway, waiting for him. “Why does it matter what your name is—Sasha, Evelyn, or the woman on the moon?”
She didn’t even blink. “Because it wasn’t given to me.”
“What—why?”
“I’ll be gone one day. The name doesn’t matter.”
“Then being called by your name shouldn’t be a problem.”
Evelyn’s blank expression never changed as she said, “He didn’t like it, or the names the other ones had used. Sasha was better than the other things he called me. I don’t know who I am, but Sasha seems to be the easiest.”
“And a product of a man’s wants,” Connor replied.
“You’re a man—what do you want, Connor?”
It was the first time she’d used his name, and it struck him hard in the chest, like a weight crashing into him that he hadn’t been ready for. Connor decided to deflect her question with something else entirely, because he didn’t know how to answer.
“I’ll be gone for most of the day, but I’m going to call someone I trust to come over to keep an eye on you until I get back,” he said.
“You must think I’m stupid,” she whispered.
No, he certainly did not.
She was well spoken. She had a mind of her own and a questioning stare that told him there was a hell of a lot hidden beneath her exterior. He was not going to underestimate her in anything.
“I don’t,” Connor said.
“Then answer my question. You’re a man, so what do you want from me? They always want something; from the very start, each one has wanted something. I’ve filled a void, been used to enjoy, and even to be taught. I’ve been treated like a plaything to some, and like a sweetheart to others. What is your move?”
Connor damn near choked on his next question trying to get it out, “And how many has there been?”
She didn’t even think about it. “Seven, over the years.”
“All Russian?”
“The first one was not; he had a wife who liked me, and had three boys of her own, but no girls. He was just there to keep me, until I was passed on again. I was eleven when the wife left—I was passed on the next day.”
“What then?”
That spark of fire was back in her eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve misunderstood my intentions,” Connor murmured.
Evelyn tipped her head to the side, and her gaze dropped to his groin again. “Did I also misund
erstand being in your bed, what you were doing in the shower, or the sounds you made at the end?”
Cac.
She had spied on him.
“I have to call that friend,” Connor said, refusing to indulge her further. “You should find something to wear that covers you.”
“I don’t think you mind.”
“I don’t, but I won’t be held accountable for reacting in an unpleasant way to an arsehole move from my guest.”
Evelyn’s lips curved into a sly, sensual smile.
It was shocking.
Beautiful, but shocking.
Men may have used her for what they wanted, but he fully believed there was a part of Evelyn that was more dangerous than she let on.
“That’s a new one.”
Connor’s jaw clenched. “What is?”
“Jealousy. I’ve never had one that was jealous before.”
Perfect. Just feckin’ grand.
“I’m not … one—an owner, whatever—of those,” Connor said, more irritated than before. “You will do well to figure that out and fast, Evelyn. You will do well to stop trying to figure out what game you need to play to please me; you’re not here for that.”
“Then why am I here?”
Honesty was the best policy …
“I don’t know yet.”
He finished getting dressed, and the whole time, Evelyn never left him in private. As he passed her by to make that phone call and get something to eat for breakfast, her soft voice stopped him again.
“But why don’t you touch me?” she asked. “Even those who were not terrible, still wanted that from me.”
Connor looked down at her, and found she was watching him, curious and unashamed. “I told you why, love. It’s not for me to take, and if you want that, then you can ask for it.”
“I don’t understand, and I’m not sure what to do or how to act for you, if you want nothing from me. I’m not sure who to be here.”
“That’s a sad idea, isn’t it? That you have to be something at all, and not just a person, a woman.”
Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know anything different.”
“Aye, this is different. I expect nothing that you don’t want, and I must say, it’s quite nice to see you opening your mouth to speak and have a feckin’ opinion.” Before he could think better of it, Connor leaned down, caught Evelyn under her chin with two fingers, and tipped her head up so that she was staring at him again. “If you want something, then ask. Don’t spy or play games. I’m helping you, lass, not hurting you. Don’t you see the difference?”
“And if I asked, what then?”
Connor shrugged. “All depends.”
“On what?”
“Many things.”
“That feels very … open-ended.”
He was aware. “Learn to trust someone other than yourself.”
“Easy for you to say.”
Connor barked out a laugh. “Wrong; it’s the hardest thing I’ve never done, lass.”
Evelyn chewed on her bottom lip, and Connor tried his best to resist the urge to pull the flesh from the abuse of her teeth. His urge won out, and he used his thumb to stroke her bottom lip with just enough pressure to get her to release the bite.
“That’s better,” he said. “No need to be doing that.”
She stilled in place, her gaze darting up to him, and then down to her wringing hands. Connor didn’t quite know what to make of her sudden nervousness, but before he could try to speak and quell it, Evelyn stood up on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss came soft and sweet, barely-there, like a whisper, before it was gone altogether. He could have held onto her, grabbed her tiny waist and kept her close to make it last longer. Something stopped him—not because he disliked it, or because he didn’t want to have more. She had been the one to take what she wanted, or rather, was curious for, and he wasn’t going to demand beyond what she gave.
Even if it killed him.
And as she pulled away, Evelyn finally bolted.
Connor simply watched her go from the doorway.
Like a feckin’ fool.
• • •
“All right, I’ll see you in a few, mate.”
Connor hung up the call, and went in search of his hiding companion. Well, he assumed Evelyn was hiding from him after her wee show, earlier in his walk-in closet. He had said that he would be making a phone call to his friend, but she hadn’t even come down for breakfast.
He figured she was probably embarrassed about what had happened, though he didn’t know why. She certainly didn’t have a reason to be, as far as he was concerned.
Connor wanted to make sure that Evelyn knew that, before he left her alone for the day.
Soon, he found her hiding out in the studio. Connor wasn’t all too surprised to find her in there, of all places, given her talents. He was surprised to see her sitting in front of an easel, while she overlooked the oil paints on the table beside her.
Evelyn seemed to prefer pencils or charcoal when she worked. Connor had given her full access to anything in his studio, if she wanted to use it, but she hadn’t gone to anything except what she knew how to use.
“Find something you might like to try?” Connor asked from the doorway.
Evelyn stiffened in her chair, shooting him a look. “Um …”
“The paints, love.”
“I don’t really know where to start, but they’re very colorful.”
“It’s not any different from the pencils or charcoal, they’ll still make a picture just the same, it’s simply a different medium and tool used to get the end result.”
Evelyn nodded. “Yeah, but where do I start?”
Connor pointed at the blank canvas sitting on the easel. “With that, Evelyn.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant, and I know what I said. You start with that—same as your mind and your paper. Figure out what you want to put on that blank canvas first, then you can choose your colors respectively, and after that—depending on the different textures you might want to show up—you pick your brushes.”
“The tools.”
“Right.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
Connor chuckled, and took a few steps into the studio, coming to stand still behind Evelyn. “You’re right, it isn’t. It’ll take practice. But you already have the talent, and I know you have the image you want to put down, so go from there.”
“So, a lot of messing up and starting over.”
She hadn’t even posed it as a question.
Connor placed his hands to the back of her chair, leaning down so that he could talk quietly into her ear. “That’s the beauty of it, love. You get to make a mess, or create something that isn’t entirely perfect, because it’s not supposed to be. Feck it up a wee bit, even. Whatever you need to enjoy what you’re doing.”
“Okay.”
“I called my friend, and he’ll be here in a short while. You should head down and grab something to eat,” Connor suggested.
“I will.”
“Or will you continue to hide in here until I’m gone?”
Evelyn couldn’t hide her wee grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about—your show earlier. That bit of shifting before you bolted like a scared kitten.”
“Shifting?”
Connor laughed under his breath. “Aye, the kiss, love. That’s what I meant.”
“Interesting word for kiss.”
“Stop trying to change the subject.”
Evelyn blew out a slow breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it.”
He didn’t believe her.
Not for a second.
Her voice wasn’t nearly strong enough.
She’d done it, and she’d meant to.
“Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
Connor let the pads of his thumbs stroke the sides o
f Evelyn’s bare arms, before he leaned in a bit closer, enough that his lips were ghosting over the shell of her ear. “Lying is not a pretty trait on a woman, and you’re not very good at it, where I’m concerned.”
He felt her cheek heat under his lips. “You would be the first and only to think so.”
Connor smirked as he stood straight, and let his fingers drift over her freckled cheeks. “Let’s not pretend like that’s a bad thing. You’re welcome to do it again, love.”
“Do what?”
“The kissing. Next time, try not to run right after.”
• • •
Killian Kelly was the only man Connor trusted to keep an eye on Evelyn, and if needed, protect her while he was gone. So, when he had called his friend earlier, he’d not given Killian any indication of what waited for him at the brownstone, simply stated that he was needed.
His friend came, without question.
Now, with Killian standing in the doorway to the studio workshop, Connor was wondering if he had made the right choice. Killian had ties to Sean as a Lieutenant of one of the crews that worked the streets of Jersey, but he’d also found a kinship with Connor over the years. They were close in age, with Killian having a couple of years on his friend, and similar, arsehole fathers.
“Well, well,” Killian muttered, peering inside the studio. “Didn’t know you had a friend, Connor.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call her that.”
Though, it was better than the alternative.
Evelyn worked at a table, her hands dusted dark with charcoal as she kept her attention on whatever she was drawing. She’d pulled on a pullover sweater and a pair of running shorts from Connor’s closet, but she hadn’t spoken a single word to him since their earlier encounter.
He wanted that to be a good thing.
He needed her to learn he was being truthful.
“Quiet thing,” Killian noted.
Connor shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t take offence if she doesn’t talk to you—she’s got better things to do.”
Killian nodded. “Got it.”
“And don’t bother her. You’re just here to keep an eye on things until I get home.”
“You’re not going to tell me a feckin’ thing about the lass, are yeah?”
Connor kept his face blank. “Nothing to tell, boyo.”
