Tramp.
I don’t care, I tell my conscience.
?
“You seriously do not have to do this,” I say with a giggle as I wrap my arms more securely around Evan’s shoulders. My head is spinning and I’m not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the fact that I’m in Evan Scott’s arms as he walks across the parking lot toward our bus.
He gives me a squeeze as he mutters, “You would have broken your neck walking across this lot in those heels. You’re not the best in them.”
“Too true,” I say with a laugh and tilt my head back to look at the stars. I feel fabulous, except for the fact I suck at walking in high heels when I’m tipsy.
Or drunk.
I may be drunk, but I’m not sure.
Evan reaches the bus and gives the door a slight kick. In moments, Red is there opening it up from the inside, his eyes taking in Evan standing there holding me. Sirius sits calmly by his side, head tilted in curiosity. Red’s been working with him on manners, and he’s done a far better job than I have apparently.
“She’s drunk,” Evan says by way of explanation.
“Tipsy,” I clarify. “And, apparently, I can’t walk in high heels.”
Red grins. Or at least I think he does as his eyes do that crinkle thing and his beard shifts slightly in the vicinity of his mouth.
Evan makes a jerking motion with his head to Red, indicating he should come out of the bus. Red issues a curt, “Stay” to Sirius and trots down, giving me a nod as he passes by.
“Thanks for hanging with Sirius tonight,” I call back at Red as Evan starts mounting the steps.
“My pleasure,” he mutters as he heads toward the other bus.
When we reach the top of the stairs and turn into the living area, I ask Evan playfully, “I thought we were all staying at a hotel tonight since you have another show in Miami?”
“We were,” he says in a sexy purr as he looks down at me. “Until you started driving me crazy at that after-party. Now I can’t wait and so the hotel is out.”
I giggle again and lay my head on his shoulder. Evan and I had engaged in some heavy duty flirting all night. While he had to mix and mingle with guests and people with VIP passes, he kept his eyes on me most of the night. Occasionally, he’d come over to me and talk in low murmurs with his lips near my ear.
It seems I was never without a glass of champagne in my hand, and as I got more buzzed, I think I got a little too handsy with him. Each conversation we had, my hand would be on his chest, or tugging playfully on his belt loops. This made Evan’s eyes get darker and darker until almost all the green and gold were gone.
Finally, by about my third glass of champagne, when he complimented me on my outfit again, I shamefully admitted to him that I was wearing some of the lingerie he bought me.
Evan’s eyes flashed in such a way that I felt it down between my legs again, and before I knew it, he was dragging me out of the party.
Through the bowels of the arena.
And out into the warm Miami air where we had about a hundred yards of parking lot to cross to the bus. He was pulling me so fast, I stumbled in those heels, but then I was immediately in his strong arms and he was practically running for the bus.
And privacy.
Evan takes me straight back to the bedroom. Without any ceremony, buildup, or foreplay, he lays me on the mattress and covers my body with his.
I’m tipsy and I like it, and like the drunken tramp that I am, I spread my legs slightly so he can settle in between them. When his erection presses up against me, I gasp and arch into him, my arms coming to wrap around his neck.
“So fucking sexy,” Evan growls before he starts to kiss me.
Then it’s all hands and lips and teeth and tongue. My head spins, more from Evan than the champagne, and I can’t seem to stop my body from undulating underneath him. Desperate for more contact.
I drop my arms, push my hands onto his lower back, and try to press him further into me.
Evan growls and responds by putting a large hand over my breast. I make this weird sort of mewling sound that embarrasses me with how needy it comes out.
“Christ, Emma,” Evan groans when he pulls his mouth from mine. “I knew you had fire inside of you. Just knew it.”
This pleases me.
This compliment.
No one has ever praised me for being a passionate person, and while I never felt that was lacking in me, it feels quite heady knowing Evan thinks it.
Bending his head down, Evan rises up slightly and looks down between our bodies. With one hand, he deftly pops the button of my skinny pants before looking back up at me.
His eyes so serious… intense.
He looks starved and I’m the meal.
This makes me bold, so I ask coyly, “Are you going to make love to me, Evan?”
Lips curl upward in a feral smile as his fingers pull the zipper down on my pants. “No, Emma… I’m not. But I am going to fuck you and trust me… you’ll prefer it that way.”
CHAPTER 11
Evan