I wake to Evelyn sprawled across me, her thigh tossed over my hips and her nose at my shoulder. I smooth my hand down her bare back and watch as she shifts closer, a single beam of morning light dancing down her skin. I chase the light with my touch, my thumb easing over brown skin and her nose scrunches, a huff in her sleep as she rolls and settles again.
I love how she looks beneath my sheets—the gentle curve of her hip and the dip at her waist. The graceful line of her arm across her bare breasts. She looks like a piece of art. Painted with oils and pressed into canvas with rough fingertips. Bold strokes of burnished gold and rich plum and deep, forest green.
Despite my insistence that all we’d do is sleep, I woke up before dawn to soft fingers grazing against my stomach, searching kisses in the dark. I had pulled her over me and touched her until she was breathless, hands tugging at my clothes. A lick of heat curls against the base of my spine as I remember the sound she made as I sunk into her that second time. A low moan. Pure, unadulterated relief.
Desire pulses hot and I dig the palms of my hands against my eyes until I see spots. I need to get out of this bed if I have any hope of getting anything done today. I still feel desperate for her, needy for her sounds and touches and body.
For the way she looks at me. For her laugh and smile and careful attention.
I flip back the blankets and slip from the bed, Evie immediately rolling into my space. I drop a kiss between her shoulder blades.
Her hand tangles briefly in my hair, a gentle tug and then a soothing rub with the pads of her fingers against my scalp. A deep, satisfied sound rumbles low in my chest. Evie grins into the pillow.
“Like a cat,” she mumbles.
I nudge my head further into her hand playfully and she pushes me away. “Pancakes,” she says with a sigh. “Bacon.” She still hasn’t bothered with opening her eyes.
“Alright,” I trace the swell of her cheek with my thumb. I want to bottle up this moment, her body soft and sweet beneath my sheets, the sounds of the house settling around us. Tree branches scratching at the windows and floorboards yawning in the hallway. “Let’s start with coffee and go from there.”
I’d make her pancakes and bacon and a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet—anything she wanted if she told me she wanted to stay. But I push that thought away as quickly as it enters my mind. Bury it deep. It’s wishful thinking in the worst of ways. Evie is too big to be contained by a place like Lovelight. Far too bright to be tucked away on a small-town farm. I won’t have her lose her shine because—because I can’t stand to see her go.
I glance at her smile tucked into my pillow, her fingertips tracing mindless lines against my tattoos.
“Meet you in the kitchen,” she tells me, already halfway back to sleep, foot twitching out from beneath the flannel blankets. I pull the curtains closed on my way out the door and scoop my discarded pants from the floor, stepping into them as I wander down the hall. The cats ignore me completely, content with their place in the sun beneath the window.
“Nice to see you, too.”
Comet rolls onto her back, her tiny paw waving briefly in the air.
I busy myself with starting the coffee and setting out the ingredients for pancakes, a deep soreness between my shoulder blades and in the back of my thighs. I have two twin scratch marks at the curve of my ribs—a souvenir from the second time, when I pressed my thumb between her legs and her hands curled into fists against my sides.
Sleeping with Evelyn last night probably wasn’t the best idea. I’m only falling deeper into this thing between us. I’m afraid that when she leaves this time, she’s going to be taking all of the important parts of me with her.
But I’m tired of holding myself back. Tired of pretending I don’t want her in every possible way. On my porch and at my table and in my bed. I’ve never been so greedy for a woman in my entire life.
It’s Evie.
I never stood a chance.
I want to talk to her about her day and then fuck her senseless up against the wall. I want to make her grilled cheese and tomato soup and then spread her out on my table.
A light, musical ring interrupts my thoughts and I glance over my shoulder at the table. Evelyn’s laptop is propped open at the corner, a spiral notebook just beneath. My eyes shift down the hall and back again, the ring cutting off abruptly.
It begins again a moment later.
I know she doesn’t have her phone. It’s still at the bottom of the pond, likely making a fine home with one of the boat oars Luka dropped in two summers ago. I take a step closer and squint at the screen. A tiny box in the corner tells me Josie is calling. I’ve heard her name before from Evelyn, a friendly affection in her voice.
My hand hovers over the trackpad and I tap answer before I can talk myself out of it. I’ll take a message, hang up, and make us some damn pancakes.
A woman’s face instantly appears on the screen. Short black hair. A Metallica sweatshirt. Wide brown eyes that blink and then grow wider.
“Holy shit,” says a tinny voice from the speaker.
My reflection appears in the top left side of the screen, arm braced against the edge of the table and hand still hovering over the keyboard. I am … not wearing a shirt. Pretty sure you can see Evie’s scratch marks across my chest. I push up off the table and stand there like an idiot, hesitantly waving the spatula in greeting.
Did not know this was a video call.
“Um, hello.”
Socked feet shuffle down the hallway. Evie appears in the entrance to the kitchen wearing one of my flannels, half-buttoned and barely skimming her thighs. She has her knit—I exhale a shaky breath and grab the back of the chair—she has her cable knit socks pulled to her knees. I’m torn between the desire to burn those fucking things and have her wear nothing but those, her knees hugging my ears and her hands in my hair.
“Hey,” she mumbles, scooting her way over to me and brushing a brief kiss to the underside of my jaw. Her arms curl around my waist and she hugs me tight. It’s the sort of easy affection I’ve been craving from her, and I can’t appreciate it because I’m frozen in front of the camera, staring like a deer in headlights over Evie’s head. If the kitchen floor could swallow me whole, that would be great.
I knew I shouldn’t have answered the fucking call.
“My, my, my. Look what we have here.”
Evie jumps, face snapping towards the computer. My hands grip her hips in silent apology.
“I didn’t know it was a video call,” I whisper, just for her.
Evelyn blinks. The woman on the screen stares wordlessly at us both and then steeples her fingers together. She taps them lightly, looking like a movie villain. A slow grin starts at the edge of her mouth until her whole face looks fit to burst with unrestrained glee.