And suddenly, devastatingly, she did, with a blinding-hot intensity that made her scream. “Evan!”
Pulsating waves washed over her in assaulting forcefulness, making it impossible for her to do anything but ride along with them. Evan rose and tore at his tuxedo pants, freeing his massive, hard cock in record time.
Randi barely had time to draw breath before Evan was inside her. He claimed her savagely, need riding him.
She coveted his possessive, caveman-like claiming, needing it to make her feel alive. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him. Her channel was still squeezing him from her first orgasm.
“Christ. You feel like a dream, but I know you’re real,” Evan said gravely, his voice vibrating with passion.
“Harder.” Randi needed more.
He yanked her off the slick countertop, and she nearly wailed aloud as he pulled himself out of her. Flipping her around, he took her hands and placed them on the counter as he moved behind her. “This will be hard, but I can’t control myself right now.”
“I need you out of control,” she agreed.
He drove his cock home, burying himself so deeply that Randi moaned.
“You’re mine,” Evan insisted in a feral groan as he pulled his cock almost totally out of her channel and drove it back in again.
Randi gasped at Evan’s carnal claiming, needing something to hold, something to keep her from flying away on a violent wave of elemental desire. Gripping the marble countertop tightly, she pushed back as Evan surged forward, and a feeling of satisfaction enveloped her at the sound of their bodies slamming together.
It was too much.
It wasn’t enough.
Randi wanted to hold Evan inside her as deeply as he could possibly get. That was the moment she realized that he owned her: heart, body, and soul. She wanted more; she wanted everything from him.
“Don’t hold back,” she begged him with a moan, her body writhing.
“I can’t,” he admitted, sounding tortured as his grip on her hips tightened hard enough that she’d probably have bruises come morning. “Admit that you’re mine, Randi. Say it or I’m going to lose my damn mind.”
“I love you,” she blurted out helplessly, unable to keep her emotions under control. Every movement, every ragged breath she took was focused only on Evan at the moment, and she had to tell him how she felt.
“Fuck,” Evan rasped, pummeling into her with a strength that left her mindless. “What did you just say?”
“I love you,” she bellowed out loud, the words echoing in the tiny space.
She exploded the moment Evan moved one of his hands to the front of her body and stroked a thumb over her engorged clit. Her head dropped to the counter as her body was assaulted by pulsations that had her heart racing and her entire body trembling in climax.
“Don’t look down.” Evan grasped her hair and pulled her head up. “I need to see you.”
She probably wouldn’t have lifted her head if Evan hadn’t been supporting it by his hold on her hair. He threaded his fingers through the tresses, and their eyes met in the mirror as she saw herself in the throes of an orgasm.
Desperate.
Needy.
So entirely pleasured that at the moment, she didn’t even know her own name.
“You make me feel so good, it’s almost painful,” she moaned as she stared into a pair of blue eyes filled with torment and confusion.
Their gazes locked and held until Evan gave one final thrust and leaned his head back in ecstasy as she milked him of his own release.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his body as they both panted for breath, finally pulling her into the too-small chair and letting her collapse onto his lap as his cock slid from its position inside her.
“Tell me why, Randi,” Evan demanded as he recovered his composure.
She clung to him, her arms around his neck to retain her position on his lap. “What?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Tell me why you said you could never love a man like me. Those words nearly killed me. Why did you say that?” He stroked her hair like she was the most precious female on earth.
Randi tried to make her brain functional again, his questions sinking in as she slowly regained coherent thought. She hadn’t said that, had she? “I never said that.”
I can never love a man like him.
Her brain started working, and she shook her head at the conclusion it was making.
It wasn’t possible, but yet . . . She’d never said those words to Evan; she’d made that comment in writing to S.
Somehow it all made sense. Actually, hadn’t S. started encouraging her relationship with Evan, even asking her to give him a chance after he’d warned her away?
S. had changed since she’d started a relationship with Evan—now that she really thought about it. He asked a lot about her relationship, and was almost prompting her to give Evan a chance, a man he’d never met. His behavior was exactly the opposite of his normal and constant cautiousness.
She stood, feeling naked figuratively as well as physically. Snatching her dress from the floor, she donned it mechanically, pulling down the silky material of her gown to cover her scanty remaining lingerie hastily.
Her stomach lurched as she thought about some of the conversations they’d had, and the fact that S. now had a woman in his life. The Sinclair Fund was Evan’s business, so it wasn’t a stretch that it could be him, that it had always been him.
Her heart started to bleed as she thought about the fact that if he was S., he hadn’t told her, had actually lied to her. He’d used the relationship to his advantage, and to hell with how she felt. They were incongruent actions from the Evan she’d come to know and love.
Maybe I only thought I knew him.
“I didn’t say those words to you. I wrote them to a man I thought was a friend, a man I trusted.” She took a deep breath and asked quietly, “Are you that man?”
Randi wasn’t looking at him directly but she saw him give an affirmative jerk of his head from the corner of her eye as he stood up. “Yes,” he admitted huskily.
“The calla lily on Dennis and Joan’s graves. It was you?” She already knew the answer. Gut instinct told her that it was true. Maybe she was able to blow it off before, but that made sense to her now, too. Evan Sinclair was probably one of the only men who could get anything he wanted, even a perfect calla lily every day in the dead of winter in Maine.
“Yes.” Evan zipped his pants and reached for his shirt and tie. “I did it every day to thank them.”
“What were you thanking them for?” Her mind was spinning, and she was still trying to wrap her head around the idea that S. and Evan were one and the same man.
As he jammed his arms into his shirt, he replied, “I was thanking them for saving you when I couldn’t. I’m grateful you’re here, that you’re healthy and strong. I’m grateful that they gave you a home. Most of all, I’m grateful they saved you for me.” He shouldered into his jacket and put his tie in the pocket.