All About the D

We get to her bedroom, and I walk right in, ignoring her annoyed expression when she glances back at me. Unlike the rest of the house, which looks like she’s been here a week, her bedroom is set up. It’s untidy, though, with clothes hanging out of her dresser and shoes scattered on the floor. Her bed, a classic oak Stickley style, is unmade with papers on the comforter—looks like law work and plans for her house.

She snatches my shirt off the top of a dresser and shoves it into my chest, eyes blazing. “Here it is. You should go.” With her other hand, she makes a little twirly movement, like I should hightail it on out.

Without thinking about it, I grab her wrist and pull it to my chest. A small gasp escapes her. “You need to listen,” I growl.

This close, I notice that her breath is coming in pants and her cheeks are flushed. What I thought was anger in her eyes might also be unshed tears. She’s trembling slightly, but then seems to gather herself, the anger winning over.

She’s just so goddamn real. She has no idea how utterly refreshing she is, so unlike everyone I know in my family’s social circle.

Yanking her arm away, she hisses, “I don’t need to do anything. You left out a major detail in your life. That’s all I need to know. I’d like you to leave so I can put this”—she waves between us—“behind me.”

I want to put this horrid evening behind us.

But I want her, and I want her to know it.

And for the first time in so long, I have something, someone, I really want to fight for.

“Listen to me. I would never deliberately take another woman to something I knew you were attending. I’ve been flirting with you since the moment I met you. You have to know I’m interested in you. I’m not that jerk who leads on women while I’m seeing someone else. My family roped me into going with her at the last minute.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t fucking get rid of her.”

Brushing her long bangs out of her face, she mutters, “She’s gorgeous. I can see why you’d like her.”

I reach out and put my hand under her chin and look into her eyes. “Evelyn, you’re the gorgeous one. You don’t need to worry about her. She’s only beautiful in the way that low-rider cars can be beautiful—over-painted and vastly modified from the original.” The tension in Evie’s shoulders starts to abate. “Seriously, who has that kind of tan in Portland? It’s from a salon. She wears so much makeup. And half of her is surgically enhanced. I know.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

I’ve only just begun. “The other part to this equation is my family. We don’t argue in public. Ever. And certainly not with my parents at a high-profile event. So when my mother, in her infinite wisdom, decided to play matchmaker tonight, my familial obligations won out. Although my mom had good intentions, she doesn’t understand that my ex cheated on me. She only knows Tiffany wants me back, and tonight, Tiffany and my mother and brother conspired to make it happen. But I’m tired of this bullshit and told Tiffany if she tries this again, family reputation—hers and mine—be damned because I’m not putting up with her games.”

Evie’s expression softens slightly, and I realize I haven’t asked my most pressing question. My voice lowers. “Why did you come with another guy? I didn’t think you were seeing anyone.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“There is absolutely nothing going on with Tiffany. I swear, sweetheart.” Reaching out, I stroke her cheek. “I’ve explained. Now it’s your turn.”

She tilts her chin away. “I don’t have to do shit, Josh.”

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll drive you to her place right this goddamn minute to prove it to you.”

Her eyes widen as I step closer.

Her chest heaves, and she opens her pretty, smart mouth to tell me off some more, so I do the only thing I can to get her to stop.

I push up my glasses and kiss her. Hard.

One touch of her lips against mine, and we ignite.

Like a blowtorch sparking against metal.

Immediately, we’re wrapped around each other.

Thrusting my hand into her hair, I kiss her deeper, relishing her soft, plump lips. Loving her sweet taste and the almond scent of her hair.

She feels so right against me, it takes all of my restraint not to tear off her dress when I finger the tie along her back.

Her shoulders lean into me, and I take a chance and run my other hand down to her round ass. Those luscious tits heave against my chest, and I rise to half-staff.

Guess the most famous dick on the internet knows a good thing.

I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know if she is really mad or if it’s all a front for being hurt. All I know is she’s kissing me back as fiercely as I’m kissing her. I break apart—she makes a whimpering noise like she doesn’t want me to—and start kissing down her bare neck. Her teeth nip at my ear, and I love it.

But then her hand trails down my back to my ass, and I get harder. There’s no way she can’t feel it now given how closely she’s pressed to me and the thin material of her dress.

We find each other’s mouths again, a desperate need clawing at me to get closer.

She snakes a hand between us, lingering over my pecs, and my taut muscles twitch under her roaming fingers. I bite her lower lip. In response, she pulls my tongue to her and sucks on it.

I break apart again, long enough to strip out of my jacket and tie and kick off my shoes.

When I turn back to her, she touches her lips and whispers, “Josh, what are we doing?”

Moving her to the edge of the bed, I feather my mouth over hers in a soft kiss. “What I think we’ve both wanted from the moment we met.”

Those gray eyes shine back, brilliant and bright and so fucking beautiful, it tightens my chest.

Reaching behind her, I rip off the duvet, scattering all of the papers and law books to the ground, and lay her down on her back.

For a second, I hover over her and stare. She’s mussed, hair splayed on her pillow, nipples tight and pointing through her thin dress.

I’m still anchored above her as the words tumble out of me. “Evie, I can’t get enough of you.” Her eyes widen, and I lean down to kiss her. “Tell me to stop if you need to. We don’t have to do anything more than talk, but I want us to happen.”

“I want you too,” she says quietly. “Even when I shouldn’t because you might be a client.” Worrying her bottom lip, she glances away. “And then tonight, when I thought we could be together—”

“Tonight was fucked up. I fucked up, and I’m sorry.” I hate that I hurt her. Hate that I caused her any kind of distress. “But I promise I won’t again.”

The softness in her eyes returns, and she nods.

We stare at each other in the darkness until a shy smile tilts her lips.

“Come here.” She tugs up the hem of her dress and bends open one long leg to welcome me.

My heart knocks against my chest as I lower myself to her beautiful body.

And with the gentle touch of her lips, I’m forgiven.

I won’t take that for granted.

Whispering her name, I thread my fingers through her hair. Our mouths connect again, heating every part of me, thrumming my blood through my veins until my rock-hard cock strains against her thigh.

Given how her hands are on me, clutching me tight, I’m sure she wants this as much as I do. I reach down and touch her velvety knee and trail my hand up her thigh, headed between her legs.

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