“You didn’t finish,” she complains as I strip off her clothes, groaning at the sight of her in a plain lace bra.
“Fuck, the mouth on you,” I mutter, shaking my head and spreading her legs, sliding between them. “Maybe another time. Tonight, I want to finish in you.”
“Finish in me?” Amy asks, blinking at me, her pupils dilating as she stares in my direction.
“I—” I pause, wondering if I’ve said something wrong. Up until this point, we’ve always used a condom together, and I’m more than willing to use one now.
“I’m on the pill,” she says, interjecting into my thoughts and making my brain scramble. She’s still breathing hard as she looks up at me, her lips red and swollen from where they were a minute ago. “And clean.”
“Me too,” I say, my cock already twitching with the realization that I’m going to fuck her without a condom. Restraining myself, I add, “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”
She nods against the pillow, letting out a little breath, her eyes fluttering shut. “Yes.”
So, I bury myself in her, catalog all her breaths and whimpers, force myself to go slow, to maintain a steady pace, even when she grips desperately at me. I want to see how long I can make it last, how long I can keep her wanting me like this.
“Evan!” she gasps, and I grin down at her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear when she brings her hips up to mine, surprising me and taking me deeper. “Fuck me, please.”
That’s enough for me. I grab her ass, repositioning her so her hips are tilted up further and drive in, loving the way she lets her head fall back, giving in completely to the movement. Then, Amy reaches up and grabs the posts of the bed frame to hold herself in place, and it drives me wild, my eyes skimming down the expanse of her bare chest, the way her breasts bounce with each of my movements.
It’s nearing obscene. But with the two of us alone together in this room, it’s only about pleasure.
About showing her how much I love her.
The thought zips in and out of my head with such speed that I couldn’t reach out and hold on to it even if I wanted to.
So, I don’t. Instead, I let myself get lost in the movement of her, of finding her pleasure. I shower her with praise like I always do, so she knows how beautiful she is, how much I enjoy having her like this. And, in the back of my mind, I am very, very careful of making sure I don’t let those three little words slip out.
CHAPTER 22
AMY
“You’re on the agenda,” I say, bursting out of the bathroom and waking Evan from a deep sleep. He’s lying on his stomach in bed, the blanket covering just his bottom half, so he looks like some sort of exquisite lumberjack model in a risqué pose.
He lifts his head from the pillow, blinking sleepily at me, and I have to grab the doorway to keep from crossing the room and climbing on top of him. Finishing what I didn’t get to last night.
I’ve always been pretty reserved when it comes to sex, not interested in trying new positions or using handcuffs or, God forbid, role-playing.
But being with Evan makes everything on the sexual horizon feel fun and new. Like I could see myself giving in to anything we wanted to try together. I trust him that much.
And deep down, that scares me.
I know I need to stop running away from what I’m starting to feel for him, but I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to be careful, to be guarded, and I’m trying to work on letting that go.
“I’m on the agenda?” he asks, closing one eye against the light from the bathroom as he looks at me. Then, a smirk curls over the side of his face. “Your agenda?”
Like always, attention from him sends heat curling through me, and I feel it on my face and chest, blushing pink. “No,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “On the council agenda. For next week. They’re going to vote on this case. Your land.”
That makes him sit up. “Shit.”
“Notshit,” I say, walking in further to the room, perching on the edge of the bed, though I’m in nothing but a towel, wrapped around me. “This is great. I mean—is there a single member of the council that’s going to vote against you now?”
“Kendra might,” Evan says, his voice going somber. I glance at him, blinking against the softness rising in my chest. The early morning sun is starting to streak through the windows on the other side of the room, playing across his broad back. The blanket is pooled in his lap, still barely hiding the illicit parts of him.
“She won’t,” I insist, shaking my head, coming back to myself. “I know she won’t. She has a huge crush on you. And Brendon thinks you’re best friends now. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually starting to get tired of pizza croissants.”
“Oh, Amy,” Evan says, his voice deliciously low like it always is when he’s just woken up, that smirk only getting wider on his face. “Are you jealous?”
“Of pizza croissants?” I try to deflect, wrinkling my face up at him.
