Forget You

by Jennifer Snyder

  To pay the power apparently. ~ Eva

  I smirked.

  Did they cut you off?

  Sure did. Right after you left actually. I called and they claimed I neglected to make a payment two months in a row. I remembered writing the check last week for it, which I did do, but I forgot to mail it. Just found it inside the bill, sitting on my counter. ~ Eva

  Oops.

  Serious oops. This is what you do to me, Sawyer Keeton. You make me forget things. ~ Eva

  I smiled at her words. She had no idea how her statement went both ways.

  Sorry.

  Don’t be. Have a good rest of the day. I’ll see you tonight. ~ Eva

  You too. See you later.

  Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I focused as much as I could on selling suits. At the end of my shift, I had managed to talk three guys into buying the ugliest ties we had and sold two suits. It was a record for me.

  After helping Bruce close the place up, I headed to the grocery store to pick up the stuff I would need to make chili, beer, and some of the wine I’d seen in Eva’s fridge a few times. After making it home and putting the groceries away, I shucked off my suit and tie, and got comfortable, opting to change into a pair of jeans and a plain long-sleeved shirt. Before I could pick up my place any, there was a soft knock at the front door.

  Gathering all the socks that had been discarded near the front door after my morning runs, I dashed back to my bathroom and shoved them into the hamper. I lifted the lid to the toilet and glanced at it to see how clean it was, or wasn’t. Grabbing the cleaning wand beside it, I put one of those scrubby things on the end and laid it to it. Another knock sounded, this one a little louder than the first.

  “One second,” I shouted over my shoulder.

  Damn it. Why hadn’t I just kept the suit on and cleaned for a little while? Changing when she got here would have been fine. Hell, she might have wanted to strip my suit off for me.

  I ran the wand around the toilet bowl a few more times, and then popped the scrubber into the trash, flushed, and made a mad dash toward the front door. When I opened it, Eva stood there with the beginnings of a smile creeping onto her face.

  “Hey.” I motioned for her to step inside.

  Closing the door behind her, I watched her face as she took off her coat and handed it to me.

  “Hi,” she muttered, still taking the place in.

  It wasn’t the most spectacular apartment, not even by a long shot, but it was home nonetheless. The walls were still painted that dreary white most apartments are, but the floors had some character. They were a dark hardwood, which matched the trim and baseboards. It gave the place an old feel, which I liked. The decorations were minimal—a couch, recliner, coffee table, TV, and a picture of the ocean Ryker had hung up when we first moved in that I hadn’t had the heart to take down yet.

  “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” I asked, hanging her coat on the rickety rack beside the door.

  She shook her head. “Nope. I’ve passed by these apartments like a million times. Actually, I was excited when you said this was where you lived, because I’ve always wondered what the inside of these places looked like. They seem so old and cute on the outside.”

  I smiled. “And now you know. What do you think?”

  “It definitely meets my expectations.” She spun around to face the kitchen. “I always wanted to live in one of these. My place is nice, but it doesn’t have as much character as this. I mean look at your cabinets!”

  My eyebrows went to my hairline. If I had known she would have been so excited to see where I lived, I would have invited her over sooner. Should I have needed it, this apartment could have been an early deal sealer with her.

  I glanced at my kitchen cabinets. They were white with the little windows you could see all the dishes through and tiny white circular knobs. On paper, they sounded modern and clean, but in reality, they were more old-fashioned and girly looking. While the white was nice and not dingy by any means—thank you Mr. Clean Magic Eraser—they were still feminine. Ryker had always joked about the kitchen appearing fancy girly, like something you would see in one of our mother’s Home and Garden cottage edition magazines.

  Eva walked to the kitchen, and brushed her fingertips against the countertop. “God, I love this kitchen. I don’t bake, but I think this kitchen would make me want to learn.”

  Kitchen porn, that’s what I suddenly felt like I was the owner of. The way her eyes flitted over the white and gray speckled countertops before making their way up the white walls and over the cabinets was incredible.

  “Well, feel free to come over and put it to use any time,” I offered, truly meaning every word.

  She shifted to look at me. “I might just take you up on that.”

  “Do you like chili?” My question seemed random.

  “Yeah.” Her brows pulled together. “Is that what you’re cooking?”

  “Yeah, you can help if you want.” I grinned. “It would be your first time cooking in, what seems to be, your dream kitchen.”

  “Absolutely, but I want to check the rest of the place out first. Is that okay?”

  “Sure.” I went to the fridge, and grabbed a beer. “Want me to pour you a glass of wine?”

  “My love,” she whispered when her eyes fell on the bottle of the sweet red she enjoyed so much.

  I chuckled. “Were you speaking to me or the wine?”

  “The wine,” she gushed. “I stopped by the store on the way here, because I was going to pick up a bottle, but they were all out. I was so freaking disappointed.”

  “Ah, got you. Well, that’s because I snagged the last one.” I pulled it out, and set my beer on the counter so I could open it for her. Digging my nail into the little sticker on the top, I peeled it off, and grabbed my wine opener from in a drawer.

  Thank God, I’d remembered to pick up one of those at the store too. If not, I didn’t know how in the hell I’d get the thing open. Realizing I didn’t have an actual wineglass for her, I reached for the only thing available—a glass tumbler.

  “Sorry, no wineglasses,” I admitted.

  “That’s fine. A glass is a glass; the wine still tastes the same regardless.” She shrugged.

  Once Eva had her glass in hand, she started to meander through my apartment, talking about the different things she liked here and there. It was the little bit of stained glass in the bottom part of the bathroom window that she fell in love with most about the place.

  “It’s beautiful,” she insisted. Her fingers trailed along the random shapes and colors, pressing against the glass.

  “Thanks.” I sipped my beer, wondering why I’d never noticed before how nice my place actually was.

  I knew it was decent, but from the way she was walking around gasping at everything, you’d think I lived in some old school mansion. Maybe I needed to stop and appreciate things more often.

  We made it to my bedroom, where she paused to enjoy the old-fashioned metal knob on my closet door. Then coming back down the hall, she gripped the knob to Ryker’s room. Reaching out, I grabbed her hand before she had a chance to open the door.

  “That’s my brother’s room.” The words fell from my mouth like bricks, sounding all wrong. I should have said that was my brother’s room, but I hadn’t. Instead, I’d used words that made it sound as if he were still alive and occupying the room.

  Eva’s eyes widened, and an emotion I couldn’t name passed across her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he lived here with you.”

  She was speaking of him as though he was still here too. It irked me. I didn’t understand why, but for whatever reason, I wanted to get snippy and clarify that he was gone and wasn’t coming back. For the both of us. Sympathy—that was the expression I couldn’t name before. It swelled in her eyes as they remained trained on mine. She felt sorry for me.

  Suddenly, that anger I’d felt shifted into something else, a need to become defensive.

  “
I haven’t been back long, and I just can’t box his stuff up right now. I can’t even go in there. It’s too soon.” I dropped my stare, and turned to walk away.

  I hadn’t made it two steps down the hallway before her hand gripped my shoulder and willed me to be still.

  “It’s okay. I get it,” she whispered without any sense of judgment clinging to her words. “I can understand how it might feel too soon. You’ll do it when you’re ready. The time will come. Trust me. It might not be tomorrow, or next month, or even next year, but it will come. It’s okay.”

  Her words sliced through me in a good way. She’d said exactly what I needed to hear. That it was okay. Leaving my brother’s things the way they were was okay. Her eyes shifted between mine, and the sympathy I’d seen reflected in them moments before changed into something else entirely—confidence. Eva was one hundred percent confident that one day it would feel okay to remove Ryker’s things from here.

  “Let’s go make this chili. I’m starved.” She smiled.

  The sense of drowning in my emotions evaporated, and I was tossed back into the moment with Eva. This girl was like magic. She was exactly what I needed, exactly what I wanted, and I was falling for her…hard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EVA

  Music fluttered through Sawyer’s amazing kitchen, and mingled with the spicy scent of chili wafting through the air. I took another sip of my wine, and gazed at him from where I sat on his countertop with my legs crossed at the ankles.

  “Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?” I asked, arching an eyebrow and giving him a pointed look.

  We’d been playing a game of sorts, one where we ask the most random, thought-provoking questions back and forth, seeing who could come up with the best one. So far, I thought I was winning.

  “Nice one.” He raised his beer in the air to toast me. “If a turtle doesn’t have a shell, is it homeless or naked?”

  My lips twisted into a smile. Damn, he was good at this. I took another sip of my wine, and shook my head at him as I swallowed.

  “Both, I guess.” Tucking a few hairs behind my ear, I thought of another question that would throw him. “Why is bra singular and panties plural?”

  He laughed. It bellowed out of him, and vibrated me to the core. “I have no idea, but I’m loving the mental image the question brought to mind. In fact, I might need a peek at yours to figure that one out.”

  He lunged at me from where he’d stood, leaning against the counter opposite me, and placed his hands on either side of my hips. I spread my legs wide so he could get closer, and then savored the way his lips crushed against mine. My tongue darted out to lick across his bottom lip. Sawyer pulled away, grinning like a fool.

  “Ah ah ah, not right now. If I let you kiss me like that, then things will progress, and we’ll be eating burnt chili for dinner,” he insisted.

  I set my wine on the counter beside me, locked my legs around his waist, and wrapped my arms around his neck, securing him in place against me. Smiling, I pressed my lips to his again.

  “This is why they make low settings,” I said between kisses. My fingers combed through the hair along the back of his head. “We can just make out. Nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t always have to lead to sex.”

  Sawyer’s hands slipped beneath me to cup my ass. “Any kisses with you will always lead to sex, even if they happen on the kitchen counter.”

  His lips trailed down my neck, which was flushed from too much wine. A soft moan left my lips as his dipped to the sensitive area between my breasts. The feel of his tongue darting out, and caressing against me sent tingles of satisfaction to all the right places. My hands skimmed from his hair straight to his solid shoulders while I willed him with my mind to continue lower.

  “But, if all you want to do is make out like high schoolers for right now, I’m cool with that,” he said, his lips leaving the skin between my breasts and coming back up to meet my mouth. Sawyer nipped at my bottom lip, and then pulled away.

  I thought I would die, right there on his kitchen counter, from sexual frustration.

  “Oh my God, you suck.” I groaned. Reaching for my wineglass, I watched him walk to the large pot of chili on the stove.

  Laughing, he took the lid off the pot and stirred the chili. I was unsure how he could act so unfazed by our heated moment. My insides were gooey and warm with want. The desire to find a moment tonight where I would be able to reciprocate this moment slithered through me.

  I’d get him back, and I’d take great pleasure in doing so.

  “Okay, so back to the game,” I insisted. I slipped off the counter, and opened the fridge to get myself a refill. “Why do you have to use a driver’s license to buy alcohol when you can’t drink and drive?”

  Sawyer took the bottle of wine from me, and popped the cork. He poured me another glass before answering my question.

  “Easy, because they need to know your age,” he said.

  “I get that, but shouldn’t there be some other form of identification they could use for that?”

  “I see your point.” He handed me my glass. When his eyes met mine, I could tell walking away from me a minute ago hadn’t been as easy for him to do as I’d thought. Lust for me still hooded his eyes. Leaning back against the counter, he smiled at me as though he’d just thought of a good one. “If winning isn’t everything, then why do they keep score?”

  I took a sip of my freshly poured wine, replaying his question in my mind. I couldn’t come up with a decent answer. “I have no clue.”

  His eyebrow rose. “Really?”

  I nodded and grinned like a fool, while moving to lean against the counter. “Yeah, I don’t know why they keep score if that’s supposed to be the truth.”

  “So, that means I win.” I found the victorious ring to his tone comical.

  “No, it just means I think that line is bullshit,” I insisted, holding his stare. “It’s only meant to make the loser in the situation feel better about losing. It’s bullshit.”

  “You’re right. I think that’s exactly what it is. Bullshit.” A lopsided grin formed on his face.

  He erased the inches between us, and reached out to wrap his arm around my waist. I sidestepped him, and hoisted myself back up on the counter to sit.

  “Why is it most nudists are people you don’t want to see naked anyway?” I asked.

  He licked his kissable lips and eyed me. “Why is it that your questions all seem to be in reference to sex somehow?”

  My cheeks heated. While that was true, I didn’t know if I could come straight out and admit the reason—how whenever I was around him, all I wanted was sex. I’d never been this attracted to anyone before. Something about him sparked my libido to life like nothing else ever had. Hell, forget sparks, it sent it into overdrive.

  “Answer the question,” I demanded, without removing my eyes from his.

  “I don’t have an answer for that one, but I will admit it is true.” He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe if I thought on it for a while I could come up with something, but frankly, I don’t want to think on it any.”

  Sawyer was across the tiny kitchen, and attempting to nestle himself between my thighs. I bit my bottom lip to suppress my grin as best I could. Maybe seducing him to the point of nearly breaking, and then walking away wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

  Leaning forward, I trailed soft kisses along his jawline, and then down the length of his neck. His fingers dug into my hips, and I heard him inhale sharply. This made my lips harden against his skin as they twisted into a small smile. The idea that I was turning him on sent shivers of pleasure through me.

  His fingertips moved until they were beneath my top, resting along the waistband of my jeans. I slipped my hands underneath his shirt, and skimmed over the length of his back to one-up him. Seconds later, his hands had abandoned toying with the skin along my waistline, and moved to cup my face. After lifting my chin to look at him, he crushed his
lips against mine. The level of this kiss was smoldering hot. His tongue pushed deep inside my mouth at the same time his body fused itself to mine.

  Unable to help myself, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and brought my hands to the front of him where I could allow my fingertips to roam over the rigid muscles of his sculpted abs. I knew Sawyer ran every morning, but running didn’t give you muscles like this. There had to be something else he did. Tugging at the edge of his shirt, I attempted to pull it up and over his head without breaking our kiss until the last second. After that, my intensions were to pull away and leave him hanging, exactly as he’d done to me earlier. Tossing his shirt to the floor, I didn’t have that option, because he quickly repositioned his lips on mine, and skimmed his hand up my thigh until it reached the spot I’d wanted him to touch all night.

  A moan escaped me as he continued to rub the pad of his thumb across the bundle of nerves swelling between my legs. His lips left mine in favor of trailing kisses and love bites down my throat, until he was once again at the sensitive area directly between my breasts. Shudders of pleasure surged through me as he amped up the pace of his thumb movement, and increased his pressure.

  I was going to lose it right there on his kitchen counter in two seconds if he didn’t stop.

  This was when I realized I’d lost all control over the situation. Sawyer had won. He’d proven he was capable of consuming my mind with his kisses and body in a way that made it hard for me to be the seductress. He was better at seducing than me.

  I fumbled with the button on his dark jeans. Once it released, they dropped to the floor with a whooshing sound, and crumpled at his ankles. He kicked them off, and pulled my shirt up over my head in one swift motion. The second my top hit the floor, my bra was being unhooked, and it was added to the pile. I ran my fingers through his hair and across the stubble on his cheeks. Making my way down the length of his body, I didn’t stop until I reached the waistband of his boxers. Sawyer flicked at the button on my jeans, and had them undone in an instant.

  “Off,” he demanded in a hoarse tone, his lips only leaving mine long enough to toss the word out at me.