After leaving the bar, we came back to his place where I was now officially staying. We were on the couch. He was watching SportsCenter, catching highlights from games he missed. Though he played, he was a huge fan of the sport and kept a close eye on the Pittsburgh Penguins.
"Evan, can you do something for me?" I whispered as I raised my head from his chest. He didn't answer but brushed my short hair behind my ears. This time it stayed in place, having grown a little longer, and he waited for me to continue. I opened my mouth to speak and forgot what I was even going to ask when I met his eyes. So instead, I leaned in and kissed him.
His hand curled around to cup my neck, urging my lips a little harder in to his, giving a groan when our mouths met.
I moaned when I felt the blend of warm and wet soft lips on mine. My hand fisted in the fabric of his dress shirt as his tightened around me. I needed a little more tonight; I wanted a little more and wasn't sure how much he was willing to give. To see just how far I could go with it, I moved to straddle him.
Evan moaned deeply at the change in our position and greedily moved his hands lower over my ass. A spike of nervousness and excitement pricked my skin and settled in my belly.
His fingers clenched into tight fists around the hem of my shirt. That was when I felt the hard length of him pressing against me, his hips straining a little closer to feel the friction I could provide. But then he stilled any movement I made.
"Ami," he groaned, his eyes squeezing closed. Hearing my name on his lips made my heart stumble. I wasn't ready to stop, but I knew the look on his face. He was about to pull away.
Lowering my lips to his neck, I kissed up the length of it, feeling the muscles straining. My hips fought against his hold to move.
"Jesus, Ami," he growled softly, possessively, against my lips. "Please stop. You have to stop," he asserted, pushing me off him.
"What's wrong?"
He rubbed his hands furiously over his face and groaned. "I want to fuck you so bad…and that's a really shit thing for me to want from you right now."
"Why?" I asked, completely confused and trying to fight that sting of rejection.
"Because, Ami, you're not ready for that," he paused, his eyes on my body and then my face again, "someone took something very sacred from you, and if I did what I so desperately want to do right now, how does that make me any different?"
"Uh, because this is willing…" I gestured between us trying to point out the obvious. "I want this...with you."
"I know it sounds like I'm trying to be some kind of saint here, and take things slow, but I'm not. It's a constant battle not to just give in and see just how far you'll let me take things when you kiss me. And believe me, I wanna see just how far I could push it. But sex..." He shook his head and a huffed breath came out, "...after what happened, it's important for us to slow down. I don't want it to be something that just happens one night and it's no big deal. With you it's a big deal. You're too important," he whispered, trailing his index finger down the length of my throat, trying to comfort me, and then drifting it across my collarbone. "I'm afraid that if we don't slow down, I'll push you before you're ready, and I'm afraid that you won't stop me, even if you're not ready."
Well Christ, he had me pegged, didn't he?
"What are you? Some kind of mind reader?" I fell back against his couch, huffing and a little angry that I was so frustrated and consumed by this stupid knight in shining armor hockey player that took my heart and wouldn't let go of it.
I wanted to knock him in the head with a puck.
"No, not a mind reader," he said in a low, thoughtful tone as he placed a hand on my thigh, turning me a little until I was facing him. "Just a guy looking out for a girl."
I scrunched my nose and pretended to glare. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. What seemed playful and flirty with teasing wasn't; the kiss was intimate when his warm hands, that were gently resting on my thighs, moved to cup my face. He pressed a little harder, making the kiss a little deeper, like he wanted to leave the mark on my forehead.
And then he got up and took a shower.
A little while later we were lying together, watching the rain sliding like a waterfall over the windows in his living room, the condo completely dark.
He had taken off his shirt, and though it wasn't the first time I had seen him without his shirt on, I paid more attention, wanting to burn the image in my head. The muscles of his torso were lean and sculpted, evidence of his lifestyle as a hockey player. He wasn't completely ripped like some of the guys on his team seemed to be, but he was big and solid. He looked like an athlete, one that spent a lot time in the gym and used his body as his tool. There was a small dusting of hair scattered over chest and lower on his stomach leading to where his lounge pants started. The hair on his stomach was what tempted me to follow its path. Damn it if I didn't want to slip my hand inside there to where it disappeared into the thin strip of black cotton that stuck out from his pants.
But none of that happened. Just like every other time in his arms, against his bare chest, my mind emptied, and I was able to forget and drift off to sleep.