It was that or face the world alone, and I didn’t know how to do it.
Better the devil you know, right?
And coming back to this life…well, I blamed Evie for that, but it was my own weakness. I could have stayed away and built a life for myself, even without Evie there.
But I was a coward, and I went back to what was easier.
It was my fault.
But no more. I want out.
And I’m doing that by getting rid of the money I received from my trust fund and the money I’ve earned over the years from selling my soul to the devil.
Giving it to Evie might seem like a strange thing to do because I know she’s never cared about money, but she’s struggled financially her whole life.
I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any easier for her, considering she’s driving a twenty-year-old Pontiac Grand and is working as a waitress in a coffee shop. Also, Casey is starting at UCLA, and I know that won’t be cheap. I know Evie will be paying for it. It’s not that her dad and sister are freeloaders, but it’s just the way she is. She takes care of them.
She took care of me for a time, too.
Now, I can finally take care of her. I can make her life a lot easier.
As for the business, I’m signing that over to Richard. As soon as the divorce is finalized, I’m giving it to him.
And then I’m going to…well, I don’t know what’s at the end of that sentence, but I do know that it’s time to let go of the past, to let go of Evie, and move on.
And I guess that starts right now.
Getting up from behind my desk, I walk to the front of it and lean against it, crossing my legs and curling my hands around the edge, as I await Evie’s arrival.
I can’t deny that I’m nervous. My heart is pounding.
No one can get to me like she does. No one ever could.
I hear Mark’s voice outside my door, and then it opens with Evie walking in.
She looks like she just got out of bed. And she looks fucking beautiful.
Her hair is tied into a messy bun on the top of her head, and her face is free of makeup, not that she ever really wore much. Her eyes are full of ire, and they’re blazing. Everything in me pays attention, especially my cock.
Angry Evie is hot Evie. Well, any version of her is hot. But I always did get off on it when she was all fired up.
“Mark, hold all my calls, and cancel my eleven o’clock,” I tell him without looking away from her.
“Sure thing,” he says. Then, he closes the door behind him, leaving Evie and me alone.
There’s a brief moment of silence. The emotions are so thick in the air around us that you could reach out and grab them.
That was the thing with Evie and me. We always did feel too much around each other.
“So,” I say, lifting my brow, breaking the silence, “you’re my wife, huh?”
Her cheeks stain pink, like they do when she’s embarrassed. “Mmhmm…yeah, sorry about that.” She twists her hands in front of her.
“Don’t be.”
“I just needed to get up here, so I could talk to you,” she explains, gesturing with her hands. “And your Pit Bull Barbie receptionist wouldn’t let me through.”
“Pit Bull Barbie?” I laugh. “Guess that is a pretty accurate description of Serena. But you could have called if you wanted to talk. It would have saved you the trouble of coming here.” I don’t mean that. Her coming here, even if because she’s angry with me, means something. I just don’t know what that something is.
“I wanted to talk face-to-face about this.”
“And what is this?” I uncross my legs and stretch them out in front of me.
A frown appears on her face. “The divorce settlement, Adam. Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Quite possibly.”
She folds her arms, which pushes her tits up, and of course, my eyes go straight to them.
That’s when I see what she’s actually wearing. I registered that she had on a T-shirt, but I didn’t focus on the T-shirt itself.
It’s mine—or it was mine. She claimed it in the early days of our relationship. I loved seeing her in that shirt. I always felt like it somehow branded her with me, so no other man could ever touch her.
Seeing her wearing my old T-shirt causes something primitive to tear open inside of me, and all I can think about is ripping that shirt off her body and fucking her senseless.
“Nice T-shirt,” I say, lifting my eyes back to her face.
She glances down at the T-shirt. Her fingers curling around the hem. “I always liked wearing it,” she says softly.
Hearing her say that elicits a thousand memories. I feel the pleasure and pain of each one in every part of my body.
“I remember.” My voice is rough. I remember how many times I pulled it off your body right before I made love to you. “I also remember it was mine.”
Her eyes meet mine. “It was.”
“And so were you.”
Some unnamed emotion flickers through her eyes. She turns her face away. When she looks back at me, her eyes are devoid of emotion. “We need to talk about the settlement. I don’t want the money, Adam.”
The way she said my name was like a punishment, so I return the reprimand.
“Those are the terms, Evie.” I fold my arms over my chest. “You take the money, or I won’t sign the divorce papers.”
Frustration and anger gather up on her face. Being the sick bastard that I am, I get even more turned on by it.
“Why are you doing this?” She lays her palms out, almost like she’s pleading with me.
“Because I can.”
“Is this—is this some weird sort of test, or is it your way of punishing me because I left you?”
I let out a dry laugh.
She’s right though. Part of me is doing it to punish her. She knows me too well.
Unfurling my arms, I stand up straight. “Only you would think five hundred million is a punishment.”
“Because I don’t care about your money! I never did. It was never what I wanted from you.”
That blows a fuse in my brain. “Then, what the fuck did you want from me? If it wasn’t the money, what the hell was it?” I yell.
“You!” she shouts back. “All I ever wanted was you!”
“Then, why the fuck did you leave me?”
We’re standing here, yelling at each other, and I know Mark can hear us, but I don’t care.
I care about what she’s about to say next.
A flash of something I can’t discern passes over her face.
Then, her anger is gone as quickly as it came, and she’s retreating, backing up. “I can’t…this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have come.”
She turns to leave and I let out a harsh laugh.
“Running for the door again, Evie? What a fucking surprise. It’s become your specialty, babe. Tell me, does it get easier each time you leave, or was it already easy in the first place?”
Then, she does something that surprises me.
She stops. Her hand on the handle, she presses her forehead to the door.
For a second, I’m not sure what’s happening.
Then, I see her body tremble, and I hear a sniffle.
She’s crying.
Fuck.
I’m moving toward her without a thought. Stopping, I’m only inches from her.
Seeing her like this, crying…it’s like a vise is around my chest, squeezing.
I want to touch her so badly. But I don’t.
Instead, I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “Evie?”
“It was never easy.” Her voice is a whisper.
My heart stills. “What wasn’t?”
She exhales a sad-sounding breath. “Leaving you. No part of that was ever easy.”
“Then…why?”
She shakes her head from side to side, her forehead still resting against the door.
“Talk to me,” I urge gently.
&
nbsp; “I can’t.”
Frustration slams into me, but I somehow manage to control it. “Okay, so don’t talk to me about that. At least tell me why you’re crying.”
I hear her take another breath, and then she turns to face me.
The sight of the tears staining her cheeks wrecks me. I never could bear to see Evie cry.
Unable not to, I reach over and brush my fingers over her cheek, collecting her tears.
The feel of her skin is electric against mine. And I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath.
Her eyes lower, like it’s too hard to look at me. “I’m crying because I’m sad. And I’m sad because all we do when we see each other is fight and hurt one another. Mostly, I’m sad because I miss you. I’ve missed you for ten years, and I’m tired of missing you, tired of this hollow space in my chest where you used to be.”
When she lifts those whiskey eyes to mine, I see all the raw pain in them, and I know she’s telling me the truth about that.
Something changes in this moment, and things that seemed important to me before don’t seem so vital anymore.
But what is important are those words she just spoke.
I’ve waited ten years to hear her say those words, to say that she’s missed me.
Now, she has.
Maybe it’s because she said she missed me or because she’s wearing my shirt or because I’ve finally lost my damn fucking mind, or maybe it’s all those things combined, but I can’t stop myself.
I kiss her.
I kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with ten years of pent-up anger and need and longing and desperation.
And I know, in that second when my lips touch hers, that I won’t regret one moment of what’s about to happen. Even when it hurts so badly that I think I’ll regret it, wish it had never happened, I won’t.
There’s no hesitation as Evie kisses me back. It’s like she needs this as much as I do.
Her lips part on a moan, the sound vibrating all the way down to my cock, and all hell breaks loose.
Pure primal need to reclaim what is mine slams into me, and I’m helpless against it, helpless against her.
Lifting her, I slam her back against the wall. Her legs come up and wrap around my waist.
And it’s like no time has passed at all. Everything about her is the same—her taste, her scent, how she feels under my hands.
I want more. I want all of her, more than I should allow myself to have. But I have always been a sucker for the kind of pain that Evie provides.
And if I’m not inside her soon, I will actually fucking die.
The feel of her lips moving against mine, her tongue in my mouth…nothing has ever felt so good, so cathartic. It’s like coming home, like waking up from the worst kind of nightmare.
I know this is just a Band-Aid over the bullet hole she put in my chest, but I need it.
I need her.
I couldn’t stop now even if I tried. And I don’t want to. I really don’t.
Evie always has been my drug of choice.
History is pulling me right back in with its steely claws, and I’m more than happy to let it. I’m shackling myself to that motherfucker and letting it lead me straight into hell.
Our mouths are going at it. Lips, teeth, and tongues, the urgency and desperation of it all remind me of the inexperienced teenagers we used to be.
The memory of how amazing it felt to be inside her makes my cock even harder, and I was already as hard as stone.
Reaching over, I turn the lock on the door. Then, I grab the hem of her T-shirt, lifting it. She raises her arms, so I can get it over her head.
She’s wearing a pink lacy bra underneath.
I let out a groan at the sight. Pulling a strap down her shoulder, freeing her tit, I cup it with my hand, and I start kissing her again.
My tongue is deep in her mouth, licking. My hand is squeezing her tit, fingers pinching her nipple.
The moans escaping her, entering my mouth, are making me painfully harder.
I haven’t been this hard since I was last with her.
She’s pressing her hips against mine, trying to find the pressure she needs.
“Adam…I need…”
She doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what she needs.
I know Evie’s body better than I know my own.
Putting her to her feet, I undo her shorts. She kicks off her flip-flops. I pull her shorts down her legs, taking her panties with them. Then, I drop to my knees before her.
“Adam…”
I glance up at her.
She looks needy and vulnerable. It turns me on like nothing before.
I slide my hand under her thigh, lifting it, and I hook it on my shoulder. Then, I put my mouth on her pussy.
She cries out my name, her hands gripping my hair. The sound drives me crazy. It drives me on.
She tastes exactly the same, feels exactly the same.
Fully aware of how she likes to be touched, I run my tongue up her center and then suck her clit into my mouth as I slip a finger inside her.
Mouth still on her, I look up at her. She’s staring down at me. Her eyes are glazed and filled with wonderment and lust.
Knowing I’m doing this to her, making her feel this way, has me feeling like a king.
She always could lift me up.
I know it’s only a temporary, fleeting feeling, and when it’s over, I’ll come crashing back down, but I’ll take what I can right now. I need this. I need her, more than I realized or wanted to admit to myself.
Closing my eyes, I get back to it, giving her what she needs and taking what I want in return.
I lick and suck her with my mouth and fuck her with my finger.
Moments later, she’s blowing apart against my mouth.
Pulling my finger from her, I run my tongue around her, licking her clean. Then, I suck my finger into my mouth, too.
Her eyes are staring down, watching my every movement.
She looks so fucking perfect. Her body is trembling with aftershocks of her orgasm, the orgasm I gave to her. Half of her bra is hanging down, exposing her perfect tit. Her pussy is glistening and throbbing because of me.
I have a flashback to the first time I made love to her.
She was perfect then.
She’s perfect now.
Evie will always be perfect.
But I know, underneath all that perfection, is a heart of ice.
Tears and words aside, Evie walked out on me without looking back once. And someone with a heart couldn’t do that.
It makes me want to break her. Fuck into her every ounce of pain that she made me feel, the pain I’ve carried with me every single day since she’s been gone, until she feels my pain like it’s her own.
Pushing up, I get to my feet. I need inside her now. And I don’t intend on taking her gently.
I’m going to fuck her hard. I’m going to punish her for leaving me. I want to make it so that all she remembers, all she knows, after I’ve finished with her is me and how good my cock felt inside her.
Loosening my tie with purpose, I remove it, tossing it to the floor. I open the top few buttons on my shirt, then, I reach behind, grab hold of my shirt, and tug it over my head. I let it join my tie on the floor.
I see Evie’s body still, and when I look at her, her eyes are wide and staring straight at my chest.
And I know I’m fucked.
My tattoo. I didn’t even think about it.
“You-you…had a tattoo done?” Her voice shakes.
I never had any tattoos when we were together. But I know that’s not what’s caught her attention or making her voice tremble. It’s what the tattoo says, what it represents.
In scripture, across the center of my chest, right over my heart, are the words,
AND FOR THAT WONDROUS BRIEF MOMENT IN TIME, SHE WAS MINE, AND I WAS HERS.
Directly beneath are the letters E and A, our initials, entwined.
It’s a play on the words
we both had inscribed on our wedding rings.
The tattoo wasn’t done out of bitterness. It was done because of loss and pain. I was hurting. I needed something to remind me of her, of us, aside from the physical reminders I have at the beach house. I wanted something of Evie with me all of the time.
I never regretted having it done, not once.
Not until this moment.
Evie seeing it causes all kinds of wounds to open up inside of me.
I feel exposed, vulnerable, like my heart is lying there, bleeding, at her feet.
I steel myself against the agony.
But then she touches me, and I have to fight to stop myself from falling apart.
Her fingertips trace over my ink, over the words that scream my feelings for her.
My heart is racing. Her touch burns. I close my eyes against the pain.
“Adam?”
I open my eyes. Hers are filled with emotion and need.
And my desire for her blows up like a grenade hitting pavement.
I kiss her hard without restraint or reserve.
I need to be inside her.
I rip open my pants and shove them and my boxers down over my hips.
“Are you on birth control?” I ask roughly.
“Yes.”
“I’m clean,” I tell her. “I get regular checks.”
I see a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can figure out what it is.
“I’m…clean, too,” she says on a whisper.
I lock eyes with her. I’m fighting against the thought of any other man touching her, fucking her.
I grit my teeth.
I need to mark her as mine again.
My hands go under her thighs. I lift her, her back sliding up the wall, and I slam straight inside her.
She cries out.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pressing my forehead to hers.
She’s so tight. It’s like fucking her for the first time again.
“Jesus. You’re really tight, Evie.”
Her body tenses around me, and she closes her eyes. “Just fuck me, Adam, please.”
That, I can do.
Taking her mouth again, I claim her with my tongue and my cock.
I fuck her madly and desperately, driving her against the wall with each hard thrust I give.
The feel of her tight wet warmth surrounding me, her scent, her soft skin, just her…it’s too much, sending me to the brink of madness.
When I Was Yours Page 16
