“Evan.” I’m not sure I even spoke his name. It was a plea, a prayer. And as his hot mouth continued lower down my abdomen, his tongue teasing my navel before moving on to my panty line, I had to acknowledge that it was also a thank-you. I may have awakened in a nightmare, but I could barely remember it now. All I knew was Evan. All I understood was his touch. All I wanted was the man.
“Off,” he growled, his fingers tugging at the lace of my panties.
I wriggled my hips as he yanked them down. I have no idea if he tossed them aside or if they ended up tangled in the sheets. I was too preoccupied with the way he clutched my thighs, his thumbs grazing teasingly close to my sex. He pushed my legs apart, spreading me wide as he bent lower, then licked every intimate inch of me.
He was the first man to touch me like this since I’d been waxed, and the sensation of his tongue against my bare flesh came damn close to pushing me over the edge, the glorious sensation matched only by the teasing way that his tongue danced over my clit in sweet little motions designed to send me spiraling into the heavens.
I wanted to cry out—to scream in pleasure—but I also didn’t want him to stop, and so I bit down on the pad of my thumb until I couldn’t take it anymore. Until the sweet, decadent pressure inside me became too much to bear and I had to cry out as my body shuddered and exploded, only to be drawn back to earth again, tethered to Evan, just as he had promised.
“Evan—oh my god, Evan.”
“Shhh.” He moved up beside me, then pulled me close until he was spooned against me. He was still in his jeans and T-shirt, but I could feel his erection straining against my ass as he hooked an arm over my waist to anchor me against him.
“Don’t you want—?”
“I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep with the taste of you on my lips and the scent of you all around me. And I want you to drift off with nothing in your head but the pleasure I gave you. Do you understand, baby?”
I remembered everything he’d said in the alley. I wanted that—I wanted it desperately.
But I didn’t want it right then. All I wanted was the safety of his arms.
I nodded, and if I weren’t so tired, I would have smiled. Once again, Evan Black understood what I needed.
“Good girl. Now close your eyes.” His voice was soft, almost sing-song, and I complied.
I never fell asleep easily, but with Evan beside me, I felt myself drifting off. Falling away in the arms of this dangerous man.
And never in my life had I felt more safe.
eight
The rest of the night passed easily, and I woke up feeling so alive and refreshed and alert that I actually laughed out loud. I never slept without the nightmares. Not ever. Even when they snuck in under the radar, so small and quiet that I didn’t remember them in the morning, I always knew that they’d been there, creeping around the edges of my subconscious like vermin.
And yet in Evan’s arms they’d stayed away, as if he’d stood sentry against the dragons, slaying them as a proper knight would.
Slowly, I rolled over, careful not to wake Evan who still had his arm over me. His face was calm, at peace, and yet I could still see the dark hints of the man who had protected me in the alley. The sharp contours of his face. The shadow of beard stubble. That scar that stood out as a reminder of what he was capable of. I’d seen it, hadn’t I? If those men had taken it further—if they’d tried to hurt me—Evan would have killed them with no thought and no regret. He was, I thought, an avenging angel. My avenging angel.
And all I wanted right then was to finish what he’d started. To give him the same pleasure that he’d given me.
Gently, I shifted on the bed, hooking my leg over until I was straddling him, my knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. The covers slid down my body and the cool air brushed over my back and my bare breasts. I was naked now, my panties having been flung aside last night like an afterthought.
I stayed like that for a moment, my eyes on his face. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight. My breathing was ragged and wild, and I slid my hand down my belly, then closed my eyes as my fingers found my sex, hot and slick. I drew in a shattered breath as the remnants of a dream returned. He’d banished the nightmares, yes. And the dreams that had replaced them had been sweetly, desperately arousing.
I pulled my hand away. My body might be on the edge, but I had no interest in being the one who pushed me over. I wanted Evan and only Evan. I bent forward at the waist and lowered my hips until I was brushing against his crotch. Just that one point of connection, and yet every atom in my body was reacting, swirling and bouncing and dancing in glorious anticipation.
My hands were on the bed, palms flat, on either side of his head. I was low enough now that my breasts brushed the cotton of his T-shirt, my nipples so tight and hard that the friction was almost painful. My breath was ragged, my body nothing more than need.
I brushed a soft kiss over his lips and watched as his eyes fluttered. I held my breath, exhaling only when his eyes fluttered open to reveal the smoky depths of those enigmatic gray eyes.
“Angie,” he murmured, and that was enough for me. I rocketed forward, capturing him in a hard, fast, demanding kiss. His mouth was open to me, and I tasted him, drawing him in, savoring him. He broke the kiss suddenly, gasping, and I arched back to look at his face. His eyes met mine, and I saw myself. My need and my desire. I saw years of pent-up passion, and in that moment I felt wholly vindicated—at least until the moment the shadow passed between us.
“Oh, Jesus, Angie,” he said as he looked away. And in that instant the world around me shattered like glass.
“Evan,” I said, but what I meant was “Please.”
It didn’t matter. He’d been with me—right there—but now he was pulling back. Frantic, I reached out, grabbing his collar and holding him in place. “I want this,” I said. “I want to finish what we started last night. What you said. Don’t you see? I’m still not running.”
Once again, his eyes met mine, and this time there was no passion. Only regret and bald determination. “I know you’re not.” He closed his hand gently over mine, then loosened my grip. “But you should.”
He drew in a heavy breath, then shifted on the bed so that he was no longer over me. I lay there, numb, as he sat up on the side of the bed. His back was straight as a board. His shoulders were squared. I had the impression I was looking at a soldier about to go into battle. Reluctant, but determined.