Falling For Ever
Chapter 1
Everly
Ileave the warmth of his body to tiptoe across the cool hardwood floor and ease the sliding door closed to shut out the frigid air, then I scoop the thick comforter off the foot of the bed and pull it over the sheet as I snuggle back in. He reaches for me in his sleep like he always does. Pulling my back to his chest, I hear his faint inhale as he nuzzles my neck just behind my ear. And like I always do, every cell in my body exhales at the ritual.
The chilled nights of the past week warn us summer is ending. My heart thuds with the knowledge. I don’t like change. I like to know what’s coming. And this fall is bringing changes in spades. I prefer the bubble we lived in all summer. Me and Julian and Blue Lake. All of them—Lilly and Noah, too. Pete and Shelley. Even the littles: Noah and Lilly’s sisters. We function like a well-oiled machine and run the camping season like clockwork.
Why do things have to change? And how have I only been here less than six months? I almost can’t remember myself before Blue Lake. Or maybe I just don’t want to. To distract myself from my spiralingthoughts, I turn in his arms and wrap my fingers around the nape of his neck, curling them into the soft, spiky fade of hair there.
In the dull moonlight, his eyes flicker open and his lips part.
“Hi, Julie.”
“Hi, Ever.”
I lean in and press my lips to his. He knows what I want, and he doesn’t make me wait.
Deepening the kiss, his hand finds my thigh just below my hip and lifts my leg to wrap around him, pulling me in close. Already aroused, he grinds into my pelvis delicately at first. Pushing up his oversized cotton shirt I sleep in, he fills his palm with my breast, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. He dips his head and takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking, swirling his tongue, making me squirm.
I press into him eagerly.
Quickly his lips are back on mine. His tongue delving in, stroking mine until I’m panting, arching my back into him. Breaking the contact only long enough to whip the shirt over my head, he leans in and whispers, “I know.”
The building tension makes me quiver in anticipation. His words ignite a fire in me as much as his touch does. Without warning, he plunges his finger into me, eliciting a sharp cry. My hips lift off the bed to meet the force. His kisses are everywhere all at once—my neck, my ear, my breasts—while his hand drives me crazy. When his mouth joins his hands, it’s too intense. I grip the sheet under me. My head twists from side to side. The noises I make from deep in my throat are half cry, half moan. I feel the pressure behind my eyes before the first tear leaks. It’s almost always like this with him. This intense. So all-consuming that my body erupts.
“Easy, Ever. I got you, babe.”
His words combined with his breath on the bundle of nerves at my center push me to the peak. He places his thumb on the sensitive bud as his finger crooks and meets his thumb from the inside, and I explode over the edge. While my body is still convulsing, he pulls his fingers out, and I whimper a little at the loss. It’s only seconds before he fills me, guiding himself into me so swiftly I cry out. He laces our fingers and drags our hands above my head as he pushes into me over and over, kissing my cheeks, my lips, my neck. He’s everywhere, consuming me. His thrusts are steady, deep, and give me no time to come down before I’m shaking with the building pressure again.
“Julie,” I cry. “I . . . fuck me. I can’t. Ung . . . uh . . .”
“Yes, Ever. You can. You will. So good. You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” His words come between thrusts. “Come for me.” He pants. “With me.”
“I’m . . . yesss . . . Julie . . . ughhh.” I come so hard, I sob. I feel him follow me, pulsing inside me, and I can’t control my trembling. My body erupts, and I can’t stop it.
As Julian’s orgasm subsides, he rolls onto his back, taking me with him.
Curved into his side, half on top of him, my leg draped low over his body, I fight to control the waves of emotion rocking me. My sobs come out on shaky breaths, tears wetting his chest.
“Shhh, sweet girl. I got you.” He takes the emotion overload in his stride.
It doesn’t happen every time, but it happens a lot. I don’t understand it enough (or at all) to explain it. And he never asks me about it afterwards. He just holds me and whispers sweet things untilit subsides or I can rein it back in. The only rationale I can find is that it’s all so intense that my body temporarily short-circuits. I have wondered if anyone else ever experiences this intensity during sex. I have no frame of reference excepthim.Julian.My very own walking thirst trap. Fuck, he’s beautiful. And miraculously mine. Every time with him is intense. Old wives’ tales surge through my mind, like going blind and other absurdities, but I get where they may have stemmed from. Right before an orgasm, sometimes a blinding white light flashes behind my lids. I’d open my eyes afterwards and see Julian watching me, eyes a dark stormy blue, pupils huge. My heart would swell and the pressure behind my eyes would build. The emotions would flood my system, and I’d want to crawl inside this man’s arms and stay there forever.
All the love stories in my books don’t lie about this. It’s so consuming and beautiful it hurts. It hurts because the thought of it ending is unbearable. I have new respect for the strength it took my mom to move on with her life after my dad died. I still don’t know how she did it, but I understand why she works all the time and why she chose her profession. A VIP flight attendant for the rich and famous keeps her literally jet-setting from one fantastic place to another. Seeing the world and being at the beck and call of the elite leaves little time to wallow in sadness. I never begrudged her absence growing up. And now that I have Julian, I commend her ability to reinvent herself after losing the love of her life. I don’t know if I could do it.
Calmer now, I swipe my fist down my cheek and look up under my lashes, still resting the other cheek on his chest. His hand cradles the top of my head. When I meet his deep blue gaze, he sweeps his thumb back and forth across my forehead a couple times.
“Hi, pretty girl.” The baritone of his voice vibrates my cheek.
“Hi, beautiful boy.” He always calls me pretty girl, sweet girl or Ever.
Growing up, everyone called me Evvie, or Everly if they were mad. He’s the only one who calls me Ever. I love that only he calls me that. And he rarely does it in front of anyone else, unless by accident. Then he usually adds the “ly” as an afterthought. I call him lots of things, usually something funny. My favorite is Julie, sarcasm being my second language. I originally called him that to get under his skin, but it quickly grew into a regular term of endearment. I mostly reply to his pet names with whatever the moment calls for. And right now, the beauty of this man before me is taking center stage.
Physically he’s a specimen. But underneath the flawless physique, he possesses a heart of pure gold. He takes care of me the way he takes care of his body. I finally understand what all my beloved romance books have been spouting about. Part of me is sad that those books have lost some of their magic. When the real-life boyfriend is giving perfect book boyfriend energy, can you blame me? I can only hope it will always be this way.
Chapter 2
