“You sure about this, Eve? Once you give me the okay, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
“Yes. Even if only for tonight.” She pushes up and brings herself to the edge of the bed. Her chin tilts back, and she hits me with the full force of that angelic face. So innocent, so fucking beautiful. “I want you.” Her eyes go to my dick. “All of you.”
With a knee on the bed between her legs, I lean forward, and she scoots back so her thighs cradle my hips.
“All of me?” I nip at her lower lip and push inside in one thrust.
A sexy-as-fuck moan rumbles deep in her throat.
I thrust again, harder. “You got it.”
And in this moment, for one night, I’m hers.
Five
Eve
Here I go again. Or better yet, there he goes again. With my knees tucked up to my chest, arms wrapped around my shins, I watch him get dressed. The cool air washes over my naked body, making me shiver, but I refuse to cover up. Discomfort is the least I deserve for what I’m doing to my heart.
It’s dark, but I can make out the sleek lines of his powerful body as he slides on his pants one leg at a time. Buttoned and zipped, he grabs his shirt off the floor, gives it a firm shake, and pulls it over his massive torso decorated in tattoos on both ribs in a flurry of black ink. Waves like water and intricate patterns. I don’t have time to study exactly what they are. As soon as the condom came off? he said he had to go.
The hollow ache in my chest is a harsh reminder of how stupid this was. I knew what I was getting myself into, understood this was going to be a one-night stand, and I begged him for it anyway. But I’m not like other girls, and now that the butterflies and orgasms have faded, my heart rages at what I’ve done. I’m such an idiot.
He moves toward the bed where he left me sated and now completely sober. With a sigh that I don’t think he wanted me to hear, he sits at the very edge of the mattress, keeping his distance. Fuck. That burns. His eyes are narrow, and there’s a hint of a pity in his expression. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s the look of regret. The ache in my chest blooms in a suffocating rush.
“Eve, I—”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I use my voice to disguise the heaviness in my chest. “One-night-stand rules. No apologies. No expectations. Two satisfied participants.” I grin. It’s fake.
“Right. Well, um . . . thanks. That was fun.” He pats me on the arm. Fucking pats me as if I’m a kid he just bought ice cream for! There ya go, kiddo. Enjoy!
I resist the urge to groan and bury my face into my pillow. I got what I wanted: one night of ah-mazing sex with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. Why do I feel so sorry for myself now that he’s leaving?
Because I want more. I always want more. That’s my problem. I want to be the girl that a man can’t live without.
He stands to leave, and rather than follow him out, I memorize the look of his back as he disappears through my bedroom doorway. I force myself not to look away and burn the image into my head with hope that it will penetrate this time.
How many do I have to throw against a wall before one sticks? The internal grind of guilt and humiliation is my own form of self-mutilation.
I pull my comforter over my body and close my eyes. Tomorrow is a new day: an opportunity to start over with improved determination.
Tonight I’ll lick my wounds as a reminder of why I need to stay away from men like Cameron. I’ll beat myself up for all the reasons I should’ve said no even with the knowledge that given the chance to do it again I’d have said yes.
*
Cameron
Re-energized.
A few hours with a good-looking woman will do that to a man. After leaving Eve’s, I was able to rack up a few solid hours sleep; then I was up at sunrise and out the door for a run. The best of Social Distortion playing in my ears and the bright desert horizon in the distance, it was as if I’d left thirty pounds of pent-up tension behind.
Sweat soaked and starving, I dig through my refrigerator for some eggs when the scent of warm sugar and cinnamon wafts up from my chest. The moisture and heat from my skin intensifies the trace of Eve I haven’t yet washed off. I breathe in deeply and groan; the smell of her lotion alone brings me back to being between her legs. Fuckin’ heaven.
“Dad?”
I peer around the open refrigerator door to find Ryder fresh out of bed but dressed for the day. His hair, the exact shade of blond as his mother’s, sticks up all over, making him look like a human firecracker. He studies me for a second, eyebrows pinched. “You lost?”
“No, I’m looking for the eggs.” It seems like a ridiculous conversation, but Ryder’s whole life has been a front row seat to the Fumbling Brain Damaged Dad Show. I resume my hunt in the fridge. “Hungry?”
“I’ll grab a protein bar on my way out.”