by Lexi Hart
I rub my cheek as the words circle in my head. “Yeah. You’re right. What do I have to offer you apart from orgasms?” I try to stand, but my head starts to swim, and I can’t find my balance.
“Damn it, Connor. I told you not to—” Her voice starts to fade away as my ears start ringing. I feel her arms going around me as she ducks under my arm and starts to drag me away. I catch snatches of her irritation as we leave the warmth of the living room and start to head towards the bedrooms. “—take my room... brought this on myself... an idiot... this isn’t happening... he’ll go back to jail... I’m as guilty as he is...”
My legs are dragging, but I manage to push the words out in a drawling slur. “What are you talking about, woman?” If she answers me, I miss it when we stumble into her room, and I crash into the dresser, making girly crap scatter over the carpet.
She doesn’t chastise me, just pushes me towards the unmade bed. I’m so tired I don’t protest, just let her pull the covers over me as black starts to flicker in. My eyes are closing when she runs a hand over my forehead and sighs. I’m not sure if I’m asleep or falling into a drug-induced coma, but when she gently kisses me and tells me I’m a pain in the ass, I fall asleep smiling.
Chapter 7.
Sunday 6.20am
Evelyn
I’m bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, from watching too many movies when he staggers in. He stares at me as I yawn and throw the comforter to one side. My back aches from sleeping on the sofa, and I doubt I got more than a couple hours of sleep. Between his absurd declaration and the knowledge that the rain has stopped, meaning he may be able to leave sooner than I thought, I’m too muddled to realize he’s asking me a question.
“I’m making some coffee. You want it before or after your shower?” He rubs at his neck and grins in a way the sends shivers traveling directly to places I don’t want them to.
“Um. Before?”
His grin only grows, but his eyebrows raise and my skin heats as his voice comes out husky. “Want me to join you?” I hold my breath as I try to come up with an appropriate response. He chuckles and lets me off the hook when he changes the subject. “I seem to have woken up in your bed without you. Hope I didn’t give you too much grief getting there?”
With startling clarity, I realize he probably doesn’t remember telling me he loved me.
I should be relieved it was just a symptom of him being under the influence, but an ache starts to grow that I don’t want to try to understand. What if he doesn’t remember before when we were intimate?
My voice comes out unnaturally cheerful. “No more than usual.”
He chuckles and shakes his head as he breezes out of the room. I close my eyes and blow out my breath slowly, trying to slow my heart rate. When I’m sure I have it together, I head into the kitchen and find him with his head stuck in the pantry.
“What are you looking for?
He holds up a cereal box. “Is this what you eat for breakfast?”
I nod, not really looking at the box he’s holding. I’m too invested in trying to figure out whether he does remember our incredible floor sex.
“Um. Yeah. So, did you like the movie?”
He finds a bowl and dumps a sizable amount of cereal into it. “Huh?”
I slump into the chair and place my chin in my hands as I watch him. Maybe it’s a blessing he doesn’t remember? I release a sigh as he pours some milk over my cereal and slides the bowl towards me. I absently spoon it into my mouth as he makes the coffee and gets it on the stove.
He leans against the counter and crosses his ankles as he scarfs down his own bowl of cereal. “Looks like the rain’s easing off. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” He winks like it’s a great joke, but I can’t find anything remotely amusing about him walking out the door without knowing whether I’m as forgettable as I currently think I am.
“Great,” I mumble into my cereal. I keep my eyes on my diminishing blend of oats and nuts, barely chewing as I try to think of a subtle way to know for sure.
I jump when he pushes a coffee in front of me and takes the chair opposite. “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday then?”
My heart leaps to my throat as he leans back in his chair and sips his coffee as he waits for my reply. I stare at him, waiting for his smirk to let me know he’s teasing, that it’s not really his birthday, but he seems so earnest I scramble to recover. “You weren’t joking?” He shakes his head and seems a little deflated. I swallow my coffee and scald my tongue. “Um, happy birthday then?”
His lip curls up at one side as he gives me a look that makes me remember every little detail of last night he seems to have forgotten. “Do I get a birthday kiss?”
Heat starts to build, pressure I can feel that despite an incredible night hasn’t dimmed come morning. Kissing him would be more than stupid. If the rain has stopped, the bridge might be passable as early as the morning.
My heart rate starts to speed as he keeps staring at me, tension building until I can’t stand it anymore. I lean closer to him, pulse frantic, heat blazing through my body and brush my lips against his. “Happy birthday, Connor.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, just grabs me and yanks me onto his lap. He pulls my robe apart, and his hands start creeping under my t-shirt. I can taste coffee and cream as he kisses me deeper, gently caressing my tongue with his until I’m way past the point of return and I’m making excuses for why I don’t need to stop this.
His hands are running through my hair, hands wandering as mine start to do the same. When he pulls back, his voice is thick with need. “Shower. Now.”
My good intentions fly out the window as I slide off his lap onto legs that are barely supporting me, and he tugs me out of the room. I barely make it to the bathroom he seems fixated on without insisting we detour to my bedroom, but he’s so insistent that I mutely allow him to lead me there. He runs the shower, and strips off his clothes, then starts to remove mine. Kissing every inch of me, flicking his tongue over my nipples while the water heats.
We step under the water, and he kisses me under the warm water, running the soap over my body until I can’t breathe. When I can’t wait anymore, I shut off the water and towel us both off, relishing every hard muscle, every sinew, the details of his tattoos, trying to cement them into my memory so I never forget anything about him.
I need to taste him, so I take him in my mouth, sliding him in and out, using my tongue until he’s groaning so much I’m almost giddy with desire. I pull him into the bedroom, unwilling to take my eyes off him as we navigate the furniture, kissing until we fall into my bed.
He’s in me quicker than last night, and I need him to be. I clutch the sheets as the headboard bangs against the wall faster until I’m half screaming, half moaning. Stars drift in front of my eyes, but my reaction as I come only fuels him. He pulls away just so he can flip me over, so I’m on my knees and my back against his chest.
I turn so I can see his face. He kisses me hard, his mouth claiming mine, hand cupping my breasts, his desperation evident as our hot breaths mingle together as his hands drop down to grip my hips. We sway, skin against skin until the angle is too much and I’m on all fours, panting like an animal as his guttural groans compete with mine.
When I think he’s close and my knees are giving out, he switches positions so fast, I have little time to recover before his mouth is on my center, and my hands are in his hair guiding him. My body is a heaving, quivering shattered wreck when he slides on top of me again. When he’s finally satisfied, still, and breathing hard, I run my fingers down his back, gently stroking his skin as I try to catch my own breath.
He kisses my stomach, my rib cage, my collar bone before he leans over so he can kiss my nose. “Do you know how incredibly sexy you are? Even your nose is sexy.” I scrunch up my face and push him away, but he grabs my fingers and starts to nibble them until I giggle. He grins at me. “And yeah. Predator is an awesome movie.”
I suck in a breath. “Yo
u remember watching it then?”
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
His eyebrows rise as he leans closer so his chest is pressed against mine. “Uh, huh. I remember everything about last night. Everything.”
He kisses me, effectively stopping me from asking him anything further. He’s so masterful, his tongue so adept that I feel my body stirring to life again. He doesn’t break the kiss when he slides his hand lower, and he has me gasping again. My hands clasp around his neck as I kiss him deeper, wanting some part of him inside me. When I’m shuddering and riding a wave of exhilaration, he nibbles my ear lobe sending a shiver down my body.
“Too bad this is just sex, I actually could see myself falling for you,” his voice is so tender that it ignites a response from deep within the most forgotten part of me. The part that wants to be loved and misses having someone to show love to. I start to cry, and he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight as he strokes my hair. “Awww shit. Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”
I want to believe him. I really do, but how can it be? How can anything be okay again when I’m falling for a wanted criminal?
CONNOR
Sunday 5.57pm
We stay locked together for so long; my skin is almost glued to hers. She’s been quiet, but she’s not crying anymore, which I’m still not sure I completely understand, but then, I don’t think I’ll ever understand her. Not completely. I turn on my side so I can run a finger down her arm. Her skin rises at my touch, and she turns and adjusts herself so she’s looking in my eyes.
“What was it like inside jail?”
I swallow but keep trailing my finger down her arm. I can’t look at her if I have to get this out. “I don’t really talk about it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
I shake my head interrupting her. “I mean, I don’t normally. I’ll tell you some, but I’m not telling you the worst. Some things don’t bear repeating.” She doesn’t say a word as I tell her what a stinking cesspit and shit hole jail is. I leave out the gruesome parts and focus on how boring and depressing it all was.
“Did you have a job inside?”
I flick a look up at her. “Towards the end I did. I was transferred—”
Her cell chirps up at just the right moment, saving me from revealing anything else about myself I really don’t want to. She gives me an apologetic smile, then scoots out of bed buck naked and looking every shade of gorgeous as she yanks her phone from where it’s been charging. She leaps back in bed and snuggles up to me, shivering as I wrap my arm around her so I can warm her up.
With her cell phone an inch above her nose, I read along with her as she checks her delayed messages. Several are from Rosie. One is from her mom, and another one is from someone called Alex, who makes my hackles rise. “He sounds like a douche.”
She frowns at me and slaps my shoulder. “You don’t even know him. Why would you say that?”
I pull a face at her. “He called you Eve like he knows you really well.”
She laughs in my face and pats my cheek, a wry smile to compliment the tease in her tone. “He should know me really well. He’s my brother.” She looks ready to laugh, her hand is still on my cheek, so I grab her and put her finger in my mouth and start sucking it. Her chest starts to rapidly rise and fall. “Stop it.”
I grin and lick the tip of her finger. “Why?”
Her eyes narrow, and she jerks her hand away from me. “You know why.” She looks so flustered, I chuckle and flop back down so we’re lying shoulder to shoulder. I watch the screen as she starts to reply to some of her messages. When she starts tapping a message out to Brian, I nudge her shoulder. “Hmm,” she says.
“Who’s Brian?”
Her mouth twitches, nostrils flaring like she’s holding in a laugh. “He’s my boss. And before you get jealous, he’s sixty years old.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Who says I’m jealous?”
She rolls her eyes but manages to smile a little as she hits send. “We should get up.”
I huff out a sigh. “What for? You have company coming over?”
She snorts then seems to decide it’s not funny after all. “I want to go check the damage outside.” I know I have no chance of convincing her when she swallows and I think I catch a hint of sadness in her voice. “Um. I’ll need to find you some warmer clothes. You know. Since I wrecked yours.”
She starts to get up, blonde hair trailing down her skin, reaching almost to a mole in the middle of her spine. “You wrecked more than my clothes, woman.”
She turns, looking over her shoulder at me, and for the strangest reason, I want to capture this moment. Everything about it is perfect. And I haven’t got a whole lot of perfect memories. I snag her cell and snap a picture before she can stop me. She twists and makes a grab, but I’m too quick for her. I hit send before she climbs on top of me, looking like an Amazonian sitting astride her mount.
I ease one hand behind my head and grin at her as she deletes the picture. “You prick. Who did you send this to?” I mime zipping my lip which only makes her angrier. Given she’s sitting on me naked, I can’t say I mind pissing her off right about now. “Connor, who the hell did you send that to? Tell me now, or I swear I’ll—”
I burst out laughing. “What? You swear you’ll do what?”
Something flitters over her face, and she looks about ready to punch me. “I don’t know. Just argh!” She climbs off me, reaching for a thick robe that looks older than I am. She starts pacing back and forth as she rants. “You have no idea how these sorts of pranks can backfire. And it's always the women that end up looking like sluts. It’s okay for you, things can’t get any worse for you, but me? I have a family; my mom is very conservative; my brother is in the army. Can you imagine if a nude picture of me got out?”
I ease myself on my elbows so I can see her better and flinch at how angry she looks. “Evelyn.”
She doesn’t hear me. Just pulls on a pair of slippers and keeps pacing as she speaks rapid-fire about invading her privacy, about double standards, about what a jackass I am. I tune out when her voice starts to get shrill. With a sigh, I get out of bed and stand in front of her naked, blocking her. She stops speaking and looks me up and down.
It’s hard not to smile when her cheeks heat and she presses a hand to her eyes so she’s not looking at me. “Oh, damn it. What was I saying?”
“Evelyn. I just sent it to my cell phone.”
Her hand falls away from her eyes. “They let you have cell phones?”
She looks so confused I scratch my chin while I try to figure it out. “Um. Yeah? Why wouldn’t they?”
Her head cocks, and she looks at me like I’m speaking Chinese, so I try to pull to pieces what’s going on with her. “Wait, who is they?”
Her cell chirps, and we both jump. Evelyn stares at it like it’s about to bite her, so I know it’s bad news. “It’s from emergency response.” Her face seems to pale as she reads from the screen. “They managed to save the bridge this time around. It didn’t flood.”
Her eyes find mine. And she doesn’t need to say what we both know she’s about to. It’s what we’ve both been avoiding talking about ever since the rain stop falling and the wind died down.
She starts to move past me so I grip her arm. “Can we—”
Her posture turns rigid as she pulls her shoulders back and she won’t look at me. Her words pierce like shards of glass into my chest. “I can drive you into town tomorrow morning. You can sleep in here tonight. It’s for the best.”
I drop my hand and let her walk out of the room without another word.
Chapter 8.
Monday 5.53am
Evelyn
My chest feels hollow. Like it did for months after Scott’s funeral. A low burning that doesn’t subside that used to sneak up on me at the worst possible time, like when I smelt Scott’s aftershave on a client at work and had to rush out of the meeting.
Grief. It’s spinning inside me again. A s
ense of loss that Connor’s presence has brought it right back to the surface where I don’t want it to be. I stumble down the hallway, eyes blurry as I try to figure out what I should be doing.
I knew this moment was coming, but there’s a part of me that had hoped that he’d stay longer, that we’d have more time. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to him. I should have ignored every impulse he stirred in me, but it’s too late now. I harbored him. I shared my bed with him. And I have to face the consequences of my actions.
I sniff and open the door, body numb as I open the drawers and search for clothes Connor can wear. He’s bigger than Scott was, taller with thicker muscles, but aside from his boots, he has nothing to his name.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the clothes in my hands as fresh tears brew in my eyes. All for a man who lied to me to get what he wanted. I was just a place to hide. A woman desperate and lonely enough to respond to his advances. Now that the rain has stopped, I can hear him in the other room. I have no idea what he’s doing. It’s been years since I had someone else in my home for longer than a few hours. When my mom insisted on staying the first few nights after Scott died, I’d been too devastated to protest, but when her presence was another reminder she was trying to fill a gap that she couldn’t, it was harder to have her stay than be here alone.
My eyes drift around the dark room, and I spring off the bed, heart stuck in my throat as I grip Scott’s clothes tighter against my chest. I stare at the bed imprint Connor left when he slept in here. When we were trying to stay away from each other.
I swallow, throat thick as the enormity of what being in this room without having a panic attack means. Am I better? Have I moved on? Or am I channeling all my grief, all my need onto a man who I can never have? I choke on a bitter laugh as I walk out of the room. Is that what I’ve done? Transferred all the love I felt for Scott to Connor?
Is that what this is? My thoughts are muddled even more when I find Connor, now dressed and waiting by the door. I stare at him, trying to look at my behavior objectively. I must be crazy. No rational woman would have done what I did.
