Wanted

fourteen

I woke in pitch-black, sweetly relaxed and completely sated. Evan had made me come twice more with mouth and hands, focusing so keenly on my pleasure that everything else faded away. Reason. Rationality. The whole damn world.

What he hadn’t done, though, was what he’d promised—he hadn’t fucked me. He’d focused entirely on me, making me exquisitely aware of my body, of each millimeter of my skin, of every nerve that had the power to send sweet pleasure twisting through me. He’d used me up, and when I was finally limp and lost, warm and sleepy, he’d gently untied me, pulled me close, and held me as I drifted off.

Now though …

Well, now I was awake. And I wanted the pleasure of watching him come. I wanted the feel of him moving inside me—and when I slid across the bed to find him, I had to fight down the sharp stab of fear I felt at realizing he wasn’t there.

“Evan?” I sat up, telling myself that gone didn’t mean gone. He could be in the bathroom. He could be on the phone. He could be anywhere.

But I wanted him beside me.

I sat up, then padded into the bathroom. He wasn’t there, but I grabbed my robe off the hook behind the door, wrapped the terry cloth tight around me, and headed out into the hallway to look for Evan.

I found him in the darkened living room. He’d pulled on his slacks, but remained shirtless. The only illumination in the room came from the glass and chrome case that held the copy of Da Vinci’s Creature Notebook. I stood across the room, lost in the shadows, and watched as he stood over it, looking down at the pages, with the soft light from below making his face and the intricate vine tattoo glow in a way that seemed almost magical.

I stayed perfectly still. The moment seemed strangely private. After all, until very recently, Evan had believed that notebook would be his, and I couldn’t help but wonder if in some small way he was angry at me. The thought troubled me enough that I took a step toward him. “Evan?”

He looked up at me, but I wasn’t sure that he saw me. He seemed faraway, lost deep in thought. Then his expression cleared and he smiled, holding out his hand in an invitation that I eagerly accepted. “Hello, beautiful. You look rested.”

I tilted my head up to receive his kiss. “You, sir, wore me out. But in the best possible way.”

His dimple flashed, the charm of it contrasting with the wicked gleam of the scar across his eyebrow. “I’m very glad to hear it. Are you hungry?”

“Mostly for you,” I said. I expected him to laugh and was disappointed when the smile that touched his lips seemed forced and didn’t reach his eyes.

I cleared my throat. “The truth is, I’m starving.”

The moment I said it, I had to acknowledge that it was true. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.

“Unless there’s a grill, I’m a terrible cook,” he confessed. “How are your culinary skills?”

“Worse than yours,” I admitted. “I’m not allowed near a grill unless I dial ahead and put the nearest fire station on notice.”

“Apparently we won’t be having soufflés as our late night snack.”

“How does a frozen bagel with cream cheese sound?”

“Can you operate a toaster?” he asked.

“I can not only work a toaster,” I bragged, “I can even manage a pot of coffee. French roast,” I added. “That’s your favorite, right?”

“Sweetheart,” he said, with a smile that soothed all my worries, “you’ve just made my evening.”

I managed to pull together a feast of toasted bagels, cream cheese, strawberry jam, and fresh blueberries in heavy cream. We sat at the cafe-style table in the breakfast area and as we ate in companionable silence, I glanced around this kitchen that was now mine. Even here, fine art decorated the walls. Alan had told me that a crew would be coming soon to crate it up and move it to the foundation’s storage facility, and I couldn’t help the pulse of sadness at the knowledge that these lovely canvases would be hidden away, lost in some sort of warehouse until whoever ran the foundation found a home for them.

“What’s the matter?” Evan said, and I looked up to see that he was peering at me over the rim of his coffee cup, his brow furrowed as if he was pondering some knotty problem.

I gathered myself and used my knife to smear jam on top of my cream cheese. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Deep thoughts, apparently.”

I laughed. “I don’t know how deep,” I said. “Just melancholy.”

He reached out and brushed his fingers over my hand that still held the knife. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking about all this,” I said, glancing pointedly at all the art that filled the room. “Jahn used to tell me about his plans for the foundation. About how he was operating it only on a shoestring, but that when he died he wanted to see it blossom.” My words were very matter-of-fact, but inside I was all twisted up. The thing I’d shared most with my uncle was our love of art, and the knowledge that all these wonderful paintings were going to go away only made the pain from Jahn’s loss that much more brutal. I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, willing myself not to cry. “I knew this was coming—the transfer to the foundation, I mean. But I never expected it to happen so soon.”

“I know.” The words were simple, yet held so much meaning. He did know. He’d loved Jahn, too. They’d connected just as Jahn and I had, and I wondered if it was art that they’d shared, or something else entirely.

I took a sip of my coffee. “Why did you stick around? After you finished Jahn’s seminar class, I mean.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Complaining?”

“Hardly. No, I was just thinking about connections. Jahn was my uncle, but that’s just an accident of birth, you know? It was the art that really drew us together. I guess I was wondering what it was for you.”

“I enjoy art,” he said, “but no, it’s not my passion. Not the way it is for Cole. And art wasn’t your uncle’s first passion, either,” he said.

“You don’t think so? What was? Business?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he got up and moved to the counter to pour fresh coffee. There was nothing awkward about his movements, but I had the impression that he was measuring his words.

Finally, he turned back to me with an enigmatic smile. “Your uncle liked to win.”

“I know. I mean it pissed him off so much when Neely acquired the Creature Notebook that he went to a hell of a lot of trouble to commission a copy.”

“True enough,” Evan said, but there was something in his voice that made me think that he wasn’t talking to me so much as acknowledging a private joke. Or maybe he was just trying to hide his irritation. Under the circumstances, it was probably indelicate of me to mention the notebook.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

As always, he understood what I meant. “Why do you think he changed his will? He knew I wanted it. And the time we spoke of it, he was very clear that he wanted me to have it.”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “He never mentioned it to me at all. Not as a bequest, anyway. But he knew I loved it and that it was my favorite of all his pieces. And I think—” I hesitated, then rushed recklessly on. “I think he wanted me to know that he trusted me and that he loved me.”

Evan was watching me intently. “Something happened. Something about the time that he changed his will. What?”

I glanced down at the table. “I fucked up. Jahn helped me out.” I lifted my head to look at Evan, and realized he was a little blurry. I blinked, and was mortified when I felt a tear snake down my cheek. “Shit,” I said as I brushed it away. “I just—I felt bad. I think the notebook was Jahn’s way of telling me it was all okay.”

“Angie—”

He was reaching for me, but I pushed back from the table and stood up, determined to get this conversation back on track. As in, not about me or my secrets. “So why you?” I said brightly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why was he going to leave it to you? Wouldn’t it make more sense to leave it to Cole?” I’d turned to the coffeepot as I spoke, but I caught a sharp movement in my peripheral vision, as if my words had jolted him.

“Why do you say that?” His voice was low and measured, and I had absolutely no idea what button I had pushed.

“Just because art is Cole’s thing. I mean, he did that whole internship in Rome, and he teaches classes at that community center.” I shrugged. “I dunno. It just made sense.”

“I suppose it does,” Evan said.

“So why did you want it?”

He focused on spreading cream cheese on the second half of his bagel, and for a moment I wasn’t sure he was going to answer. Then he said, “Because the notebook means something. It represents something huge.”

“The missing dragon shield, you mean? Or something more?” The story was that as a youth, Da Vinci had painted a fabulous dragon on a shield. It was so incredible that his father had not sold it to the original buyer, and it had disappeared into history. But I didn’t think that Evan was talking about a lost artifact.

“It’s a reflection of how Da Vinci looked at the world. He saw things that weren’t there. He looked beneath the surface. He looked at the world the way it really was, and it didn’t scare him.”

I stared at him in unabashed amazement.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just—I can’t believe you said that. It’s exactly what I love about that notebook. About most of Da Vinci’s work, actually.”

The corner of his mouth curved up for just a moment before his features settled back into an expression of bland indifference.

I frowned. “Evan?”

“I want to buy the notebook from you, Angie.”

“You what?” Surely I hadn’t heard him right.

“I want the notebook. I need it. To be honest, I need it more than you do.” His voice was calm, like a businessman in the midst of negotiations.

I wasn’t calm at all. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just told you how much it means to me.”

“And it’s served its purpose. Whatever message Jahn was sending you, he delivered it. Giving me the notebook doesn’t change a thing.”

“It changes everything,” I said. And then—with the same shock as an unexpected slap in the face—I understood.

“Oh, shit.” With a jolt, I pushed back from the table, the screech of the chair against the tile underscoring the horror I felt. “You son of a bitch,” I shouted. “You fucking bastard! Is that why you changed your mind? Why you gave in at Destiny? Why you came here tonight? So you could try to seduce the damn notebook away from me?”

His face reflected shock, but I had no way of knowing if it was a reaction to my accusation or to being found out. And I was on too much of a roll to stop now.

“Well, fuck you, Evan Black. It’s mine.” I wanted to slap his face, but instead I grabbed my coffee cup and hurled it across the room. It shattered on the floor, sending dregs of coffee to splatter on the gray tiles and neutral beige walls.

I gasped, then turned to run from the room. I wanted to throw myself onto the bed and cry. I wanted to kick Evan Black in the balls. I wanted to race out of this building that right now felt so damn confining and just get lost.

I wanted to escape myself, but there was nowhere else to go and no one else to be.

And I couldn’t do any of that anyway, because Evan caught my arm and jerked me violently back to him. Then he clutched my other arm, as well. He held me there, his hands tight on my upper arms, as I battled down the urge to spit in his face.

“No,” he said. And then more forcefully, “Goddammit, Angie, no.”

I tried to shake free, but he held me tight. My arms, I was certain, would be bruised by morning.

“That is not why I’m here.” The ferocity in his voice slashed over me. “I’m here because I want you, dammit. Not because I want something from you.”

I wanted to believe it—I so desperately wanted to believe it—and yet how could I? I shook my head. “Bullshit, Evan. You promised my uncle that you wouldn’t do this. And you were damn sure willing to keep that promise—until you realized that I inherited the notebook.” I saw him flinch and knew that I’d struck a sound blow. “Kevin was right,” I said. “You’re only interested in yourself.”

“Do not—do not—bring that bastard into this conversation.”

“I’m not even going to have this conversation,” I said wearily. “Just get the hell out.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until you listen to me.”

“I said to get out. I’m not kidding. Do you know how many panic buttons are hidden in this apartment? If you think I won’t push one—”

He tightened his grip on my arms, and I remembered the man I’d seen in the alley. The man who had so efficiently and ruthlessly pressed a knife to another man’s throat.

The truth was, unless he let me, I couldn’t push any button at all. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t call for help. I could do nothing but submit. And though I knew that empirically I should be afraid, I wasn’t. I was pissed off, sure, but I wasn’t afraid of this man. Not even a little.

“Push them all,” he said gently. “Kick me out, scream for Peterson. Do whatever the hell you have to. But listen to me first.”

I glared at him.

“Please,” he said, but it was his tone more than the plea that melted me.

“All right,” I whispered. “Talk.”

He released my arms, then took a step backward. “I need to show you something. Come with me.”

I followed, feeling lost and defeated and just wanting to get this over with. In the living room, he went to the briefcase he’d dropped beside the couch. He bent down, opened it, and pulled out a letter. “Recognize it?”

I shook my head. “Should I?”

“Alan gave it to me. It’s the letter Jahn left for me.”

“Oh.” I wanted to ask what the hell that letter had to do with anything, but I kept my mouth shut. Obviously that’s where we were heading, and Evan was going to get there on his own sweet time.

He handed it to me. “Read it.”

I took it tentatively, feeling strangely vulnerable.

It took me a second to get the letter out of the envelope. My hands were actually shaking. I didn’t yet know what Jahn had said in this note, but I knew that it was important. And, somehow, it affected me.

I unfolded the paper and read the words written in Jahn’s familiar scrawl: I had my reasons.

I read it again, then looked up at Evan. “What does that mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “It means he’s not holding me to my promise to stay away from you. What I don’t understand is why.”

His words seemed to ricochet through my mind. “But—wait. Where does it say that? How do you know?”

“I know,” Evan said.

“How?” I repeated.

He turned so that his back was to me and moved toward the wall of windows and the gray of the lake and sky. “Because that’s what it has to mean.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t get this at all.”

He turned to me, capturing me in the wild gray of his eyes. “That’s what it has to mean, because anything else is unacceptable. I was fine until I touched you, Angie. Fine until we crossed that line. But now that I’ve felt your skin against mine—now that I’ve tasted you—there is no way I can keep that promise. So that is what Jahn’s note has to mean. It’s a Get Out of Jail Free card, sweetheart. And I took it—took you—because I wanted you. It has nothing to do with the goddamn notebook.”

“Oh.”

I sank down to sit on the couch as I tried to organize my thoughts. At the moment, I didn’t exist as a rational being. I was only emotion, and that emotion was joy.

Joy, yes. But confusion, too. “But at Destiny—you put me off. I mean, not only did you put me off, but you put on that whole show with that redhead.”

I heard the jealousy in my voice, and from the way the corner of his lip twitched, I knew he heard it, too. “I don’t get involved with the girls at the club,” he said, as my body sagged with relief.

“Never?”

“I believe I’ve mentioned that I have a code. And not sleeping with my employees is high up on my list.”

“Does that little redhead realize that?” I asked cattily, then immediately wished I could pull back my words when Evan chuckled.

“Careful,” he said. “Green isn’t your best color.”

“Dammit, Evan, I—”

“Hush.” He moved to sit beside me, then gently stroked my cheek before tucking my hair behind my ear. “Christy was putting on a show. For your benefit, actually, though she’s done it before. Sometimes I find it beneficial for colleagues to have a certain impression of me.”

“And she knows it’s all a show?”

“She does,” he said, then gently kissed the tip of my nose. “And so does Maria.”

“Who’s Maria?”

“Her lover.”

“Oh.” I grinned. “Oh,” I repeated as what he said sank in. But then I thought about it more, and had to press. “I still don’t understand why you did that. The whole show to turn me off. All the fighting to push me away. You’d read the letter by then. You had your Get Out of Jail Free card.”

“I know,” he said. He took my hand and idly traced my fingers with his. “I’m still a bad bet, Angie, and for all the same reasons.”

“You haven’t told me those reasons.”

“No. I haven’t. And I don’t intend to.”

I eyed him, certain that I knew. This was all tied up with Kevin’s allegations. He was involved in some sort of criminal shit, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was curious—and intrigued. There was sweet temptation in the danger, and I licked my lips, wondering if I should press the point. If I should ask him what he was mixed up in. If I should press for details about his crimes, both now and five years ago. But I kept my mouth shut. That kind of talk might push him away—and I was selfish enough not to want to go there. I wanted the reality of the man in my bed, and the fantasy of his wild and dangerous side was just an added perk.

“If you’re such a bad bet,” I said instead, “then why did you give in at all?”

He brushed his lips over mine. “You said it yourself. No commitment, no future. Just you and me and this one weekend. Dammit, Angie, do you have any idea how long I’ve fought the urge to touch you? For that matter, do you have any idea how close I came to breaking my word after that damned alley? I meant what I said—you’re my goddamned Kryptonite, and you have totally destroyed all my defenses.”

His words crashed over me, tempting me even as he tethered me. Didn’t I already know this was a man I could let go with—a man who unleashed a wildness in me that didn’t involve fast cars or petty theft. With Evan, I felt free to be Lina again, even though Angie was the woman I needed to be. The woman I was going to have to be starting in three short weeks. Once I stepped into the world of politics, I needed to be squeaky clean because anything else could cost my father his career, not to mention his reputation.

This was my last chance. To let go. To fly. To have this man that I craved.

Just you and me and this one weekend.

It sounded so perfect. So tempting.

And too damn short.

I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. Because the truth was, I wanted more than this one night with Evan. I wanted a connection. I wanted the time we had left to be real and solid and shining.

I needed him, and I trusted him, but I was afraid that my earlier frenzied accusation about him trying to snatch the Creature Notebook had left a shadow looming between us. And the only way I could think of to banish that dark, was to explain exactly why Jahn had given the notebook to me in the first place.

“Earlier this year,” I began. “When they rushed Jahn into surgery, he didn’t wake up when they expected him to—nothing seemed to go right. It was horrible.”

“I remember.”

“I was a wreck.”

“I remember that, too,” he said, and I nodded agreement. Evan and Tyler and Cole had spent at least as much time at the hospital as I had, and I’d been grateful whenever our visits had overlapped because I’d soaked up their strength and claimed it for my own.

“I can’t recall any of the details of those days. They’re a blur. But the moment that they said he crossed the line—that he was okay—I had to get out of there. I had to just go, you know? Because all of that fear and worry that I’d been holding inside while I paced the hospital and waited was poisoning me. I had to get it out. And I—well, I kind of stole a diamond bracelet.”

His scarred brow lifted. “All right,” he said. “You have my attention.”

“I got away with it, or so I thought. But it turns out there were security cameras. It took them over a month, but they caught me.”

I shuddered, remembering how mortified I’d been when the cops had confronted me in the condo lobby on April Fool’s Day. Jahn had been home from the hospital about a week, but he hadn’t yet been cleared to go back to the office. I’d been on my way back from an ice cream run, and they’d taken me away. “I spent the night in jail, and the next day I told Jahn everything—including why I did it.”

“Why did you?”

“To feel that rush,” I said, looking right at his eyes. “Sometimes, when I needed to let go, when everything just got to be too much for me—well, sometimes that’s what I would do.”

“I get it,” Evan said, and I knew that he needed no further explanation. “So you were in jail,” he continued. “What did Jahn do?”

“He moved heaven and earth for me without ever leaving his condo. I think you could probably interview the arresting officers now, and even they’d swear they have no knowledge of me. This is a big year for my dad, what with the talk of him being on the short list to run as VP. That kind of scandal would not have been good.”

“And then he changed his will,” Evan said, seeing exactly where I was going with this.

“He did,” I said. “He left me the notebook. Me, not you. And I think it was his way of telling me that no matter how badly I fucked up, that he still believed in me. That he still trusted and respected me.” I shrugged. “I loved that notebook, and he knew it. I guess the bottom line is that I think the bequest was his way of saying that he loved me.”

Evan nodded slowly. “Why are you telling me this now?”

I hesitated, taking a moment to draw courage. “Because I wanted you to understand why I’m not going to give it to you. And because—”

“Why?”

“Because

I want three weeks,” I announced boldly. “And I thought you deserved the truth before I said so.”

“What are you talking about?” He was watching me intently, and there was a small crease above his nose, as if he was concentrating on a particularly knotty problem. That, apparently, would be me.

I sucked in a breath. “I’m moving to Washington. My dad got me a job as a legislative aide. That’s why I went to Destiny.” My cheeks flamed, which was ridiculous considering all we’d done together in the last few hours. “I wanted to have you. Just once, like I said. I wanted to finish what we started. More than that, I wanted the way you make me feel.”

“But?” There was an edge to his voice that I couldn’t quite identify.

“But once wasn’t enough. Now I want more,” I said firmly. “You asked me how high? Well, that’s my answer. As high as you can take me before I leave. And who knows—maybe we’ll get each other out of our systems.”

I was breathing hard, watching him. And, dammit, just thinking about what I was suggesting had turned me on. My nipples were tight behind the terry cloth of the robe, and I was suddenly aware of the heat at the juncture of my thighs.

“No,” he said.

I looked up sharply, prepared to protest, but didn’t have the chance before he continued.

“No,” he repeated. “I don’t think you’ll ever be out of my system. But as for how high I can take you …”

I held my breath as he reached out, trailing a finger down the neckline of the robe.

“We’ve already gone pretty damn far,” he whispered. Slowly, he reached out and tugged loose the tie of the robe, then spread the top open, revealing my shoulders and breasts. “But have we gone far enough?” he asked. He brushed the pad of his thumb over my already erect nipple. “You’re right, baby. I can take you one hell of a lot further.” He took his thumb off my breast and drew it along my lower lip, then thrust it gently into my mouth. I opened for him, sucking and tasting, my eyes closed as I simply reveled in it.

I wanted it—god how I wanted it. Wanted to go completely and totally wild with him. And yet the tightness in my chest was growing. A bone-deep trepidation. Because the more I realized that this was really happening, the more my old fears bubbled up.

Part of me screamed that I was the one that started this, so I needed to just keep my damn mouth shut. But I couldn’t help it. All my doubts—all my fears—were once again rising to the surface.

“Evan …” I trailed off, determined not to go there.

“What?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Just me being stupid.” But I didn’t quite look at his eyes.

“Hey,” he said. “Tell me.”

“It’s just …—It’s just that I go a little wild and do these things sometimes,” I said slowly, feeling foolish since I was the one who’d said I wanted these three weeks, so what was I doing now backing off?

“I mean, I want this—I want you. But …” I went silent, thinking of Grace who’d died because I’d run off to play wild child one night. Thinking of my night in jail that had come so close to destroying my dad’s good name. Hell, even thinking of Evan who’d been attacked in an alley. Because that tied back to me letting go, too.

“Oh, hell. I guess I’m afraid we’d be tempting fate,” I said lamely. “Besides, you’re not a safe bet, remember?”

“No,” he said.

“No?” I repeated, confused.

“No. No thinking, no rationalizing, and absolutely no saying no. I’m a man who gets what he wants, sweetheart, even if I have to take it. So that’s what I’m doing. Consider it my present to you. Hell, consider it a going-away present.”

“A present,” I repeated dumbly.

“One hell of a kick-ass gift,” he said firmly. “I’m the one taking responsibility. You’re not diving into the rush, I’m pulling you in with me. You’re not going wild, I’m just taking you along for the ride. No,” he repeated when I opened my mouth to protest. He pressed a soft finger to my lips. “This isn’t a subject for debate. It isn’t a question. For the next three weeks, we’re taking that fall together—all you have to do is surrender.”

“That’s just semantics,” I said, but I couldn’t help the flutter of bliss that was growing in my belly. A gift. Maybe. Just maybe …

“It’s not just semantics,” he said firmly. “It’s a shift in how we look at the world.”

I licked my lips, so very tempted.

“Come on, Angie. Fall with me.”

I drew in a breath, held his eyes, and made the leap. “You called me Lina on the roof the other day,” I said softly. I felt suddenly, unreasonably exposed, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Did I? I suppose I thought it suited you.” He stroked his palms down my bare shoulders. “Do you like it?”

I hesitated. I should back off. I should say no; I should be Angie. “Yes,” I whispered as he closed his fingers over mine. “I liked it.”

“Me, too.” He stood up, then held out a hand for me. “Come here, Lina,” he said, gently pulling me to my feet. The robe hung open, and he pushed it off my arms, leaving me naked.

I fought the urge to bend down for the robe, but honestly, it didn’t take much effort. I wanted to be naked with this man. I wanted to be wild with him. I wanted to be Lina.

I could do this; I could take these three weeks. Because surely with Evan keeping me tethered, nothing would go horribly wrong.

“Come with me,” he said, then led me to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, then guided me on, as well.

I knelt on the mattress, sitting back on my ankles. Then I cocked my head and regarded him playfully. “I’m not sure Lina is quite as compliant as Angie.”

His smile was slow and held a touch of victory. “Is that a fact?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, what would Lina do?” he asked.

“She’d be bold,” I said, as I moved closer. “If she wanted something from a man, she’d just take it.” I reached down, and stroked his cock through his slacks, then sucked in air as I felt it turn to steel in response to my touch. “Or maybe she’d just drive him wild,” I said, as I slid my hand slowly up and down. “Take him to the edge and then push him over, knowing that she was the one who made him fall.”

“Lina.” He drew in a noisy breath. He reached out for me, but I shook my head.

“No. Lay back. Lina can be very bossy.”

His dimple flashed as he slid down to stretch out on the bed. “That’s it,” I said as my fingers worked the button and then the zipper. “Lift your ass,” I ordered, then tugged his pants down along with his underwear. Once I got him free of the slacks, I got back on the bed, then returned my attention to his cock as I moved to straddle him.

His eyes were opaque with pleasure, and when I dipped my head and ran my tongue over the very tip of his penis, I felt him tremble beneath me. I basked in a glow of feminine pride, knowing that it was my touch that was driving him crazy. That I was making him hard.

I didn’t waver in the attention I was paying to his cock, but I did relax my thighs, so that I was sitting on his leg instead of perched above it, and I undulated my body in time with my ministrations to his cock, teasing my clit with each delicious motion and stoking the fire that was already raging inside me.

“Jesus, baby,” he said, as I licked his shaft all the way down to where I cupped his balls and then back up to the tip. His body was rigid and tight, as if readying for the explosion that I intended to give him.

I opened my mouth and drew him in. Just the tip at first, because I wanted to make him desperate. Hell, I wanted to make him beg. Then I went deeper, relishing the way his body tightened and letting his groans of pleasure wash over me. I’ve never felt particularly skilled where giving head is concerned, but right then I felt powerful. Hell, I felt perfect.

“Lina,” he groaned. “Shit, Lina, you feel fucking amazing.”

He was so damn close—but I had other plans for that gorgeous cock, and I slowly withdrew my mouth, then eased my body up. Now, I did more than just straddle a thigh. Instead, I straddled his hips, and in slow, careful moves designed to drive us both crazy, I let the tip of his cock stroke my slick cunt.

I was so damn ready, and this was torturing me as much as it was him. But as I moved—as I denied myself the pleasure of slamming my body down hard and impaling myself on him, of having him fill me in one glorious, deep thrust—I understood how he had survived so far without actually fucking me. Because this anticipation was just as exciting as the act itself, and if I were a stronger person I could have teased him forever, and with the greatest of pleasure.

But I wasn’t that strong.

What had Cole called it? Evan’s capacity for self-deprivation? Well, I didn’t have it. I wanted him. Needed him. Had to have him right then, because my senses were on overload and the only thing that could keep me from imploding was the feel of this man inside me.

Fuck it. I couldn’t wait another second, and I thrust downward, crying out as my body stretched wide to accommodate him. I rose up, then slammed down again, leaning back so I could hold on to his legs even as he reached up and grasped my hips, forcing me to go deeper, harder, faster.

He was close. I could tell by the way that tension was building in his body as we moved together, and I arched back, moaning with pleasure at the way he filled me—and then squealing in surprise and delight as he grabbed me tight and rolled us over, tumbling me onto my back with our bodies still joined.

“Evan!”

His kiss was hard and demanding and very effectively shut me up. “You didn’t wait for me to get a condom.”

“I’m on the pill,” I said. “And I assumed you were clean.”

“I am,” he said.

“So that’s why you stopped?”

He laughed. “Baby, I’m still inside you. Is that stopping?”

“No, but—”

He pressed his finger over my lips. “I seem to recall mentioning to you that I like being in control.”

“Oh. Right. You might have said that,” I admitted, squirming beneath him. “I think you liked letting me take over for a while, too.”

“Careful. That’s the kind of thing a woman can get punished for.”

“Is that so?” I asked playfully.

“Hell, yes,” he said, returning my smile with one of his own, and then staying perfectly still.

He was still hard inside me, and yet he wasn’t moving. I groaned in protest and tried to shift my hips in silent demand. But I couldn’t do much; he’d trapped me good and tight.

I was beginning to understand what he meant by “punishment.”

He grinned knowingly. “Frustrated, Lina?”

“Even if I were, I wouldn’t admit it.”

He laughed outright, and the sound delighted me. “How do you do that?” I asked.

“How do I do this?” he asked, moving slowly inside me.

“Oh, thank god. Finally,” I said, arching up to silently urge him to thrust deeper. “But what I meant was, how do you send this melange of emotions coursing through me?” I had to concentrate on getting the words out. “You take me to the edge, you make me feel like I’m the manifestation of sensual pleasure. And then you turn it on its head and make me laugh out loud.” I paused for just a heartbeat. “I don’t remember ever having so much fun in bed.”

He slid up my body and kissed me gently. “Me either. Of course,” he added, his tone sharpening a bit as he traced his fingertip over my naked breasts. “As I believe we’ve already established, we’ve barely scratched the surface of what I can make you feel.” As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over my nipple, the friction making the nub even tighter. He squeezed his fingers tighter, intensifying the pleasure—and the pain.

“Oh, really?” I concentrated on his fingers, on that pinching sensation that hurt a little, but at the same time felt remarkably wow, as if everything I wanted to feel had been captured and held there for me to experience. I remembered his words in the alley—the way he’d wanted to pinch my nipples. To spank my ass.

I felt the muscles of my sex clench around him, already anticipating the new onslaught of sensations to come.

From the way he smiled at me, I could tell he’d felt my body’s response—and understood exactly what it meant.

“My Lina wants something,” he said.

I licked my lips and turned my head slightly so that I wasn’t looking at him dead-on. “I was just thinking about what you said. About how taking control was the kind of thing you might punish me for.”

“Were you? That’s an interesting direction for your thoughts. Would you like to elaborate? Maybe be more specific?”

I slanted my eyes at him. “You made me promises.”

“Did I? You may have to refresh my memory.”

He released my nipple, then trailed his finger down, lower and lower to where our bodies were joined. He moved inside me languidly, and as he did, he slipped his finger over my clit, making me bite down on my lower lip as my breath came in painful, wonderful jolts.

He took his finger away, stopped his thrusting, and looked down at me, his expression smug.

“Bastard,” I muttered.

“What do you want, Lina?”

“I want—I mean, I’ve never been—oh, fuck it. I want you to spank me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been naughty,” I murmured, because I was certain that’s what he expected me to say. “Because I need to be punished,” I added, turning my head away because I knew it was true.

“Good girl,” he said as he began to slowly move inside of me. I felt the pressure building and closed my eyes, wanting to get lost on the cresting waves. “No. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

“It was a good answer, but it wasn’t the right one.” He kept up the motion, that delicious friction building with such slow intensity that it took all of my effort to focus on his words. “I don’t know what you think you’ve done, but it’s not important. Because it’s not about punishment, at least not with me. The control, the bondage, the spanking, even the pain—it’s all a road, Lina. A road that leads to pleasure. It’s acceleration before flight. The priming of the pump. The buildup to climax.”

He traced his fingertip over my nipple, then over my lips, then gently slid inside my mouth as I sucked, the digit mimicking the thrusts of his cock.

“Call it whatever the hell you want,” he continued. “But I promise you that pleasure is the goal. I’m not interested in hurting you. I’m not interested in punishing you. I’m only interested in pleasing you.”

He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. “You do,” I whispered.

“It’s going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can’t have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you’re going away. I need to know that you’ve surrendered to me.”

“I have. I will.” Hell, right then I’d do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.

He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. “I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too.”

“I do,” I said. “I want it.”

He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”

I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, “Oh, baby.” And then I felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. “Say it like you mean it,” he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.

“I want it,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung—though I’d even go so far as to say they hurt—I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more—hell, I wanted everything.

He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. “What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going,” I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. “Please, do it.”

He answered with another sharp smack. “Tell me again what it is you want?”

“I want you to spank me.” I want you to fuck me.

“Tell me what you want.” Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. “Tell me,” he repeated, his words followed by another spank.

“You. I want you, Evan. I’ve always wanted you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I’d revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.

“I have to have you now, Lina. I can’t last another second of not being inside you.”

I tried to say yes, but it wasn’t necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn’t have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.

He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.

He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he’d reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.

I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.

“Evan.” I said his name like a prayer.

He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.

“Lina,” he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn’t entirely sure that he’d meant for me to hear it.

Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.

I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.

I closed my eyes, and his soft, “You’re wonderful,” was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.