I was about to turn around and go back down to the lobby to wait for her when the door swung open. There was Evan.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked in that deep voice that was making me want to shove his face between my legs.
“The caterer is going to be here soon,” I said, not moving.
“Too bad,” Evan said. “I guess I’ll have to wait to fuck you.”
I sucked in a breath. Evan reached out, stuck three fingers down the front of my blouse, and gently pulled me into his condo, closing the door.
“You can’t just send me a picture like that and then act like you’re just here professionally,” he murmured.
I swallowed. “I shouldn’t have sent that; I was drunk on pizza.”
The corner of his mouth quirked, and his hand trailed down my front to my pussy.
“You didn’t respond,” I said, voice slightly hoarse as his hand crept under my skirt.
“What am I supposed to say to that?” Evan asked conversationally, pressing kisses to my neck and my jaw as he slowly rubbed me through my panties. “You told me to stop coming over to your apartment. Otherwise, I would have gone over there last night, pushed you facedown on the bed, spread your legs, stroked that perfect wet pussy, then fucked you with my thick cock.”
I gasped as he stroked me.
He leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine, kissing me roughly. His hand rubbed me, and I ground against him, needing him. My pussy ached. I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but he was kissing me hard, taking my mouth. I moaned against him, my fingers digging into his biceps. I just needed that friction. My body was hot and aching for him.
The doorbell rang, and Evan unwound himself from me. I gasped for breath as he went to the door. My panties were soaking wet.
“Wait,” I said breathlessly as I tried to calm my racing heart and make it look like I wasn’t just going to have sex against a wall.
Evan smirked at me. “I could pretend we’re not here,” he whispered.
“Hello?” Elsie called. “I’m here with Weddings in the City for the catering tasting session.”
I pulled the door open. “Do you need any help?”
My friend looked between the two of us, me red-faced and disheveled, Evan behind me, cool and collected in his suit. She raised an eyebrow.
“Sure. I have everything on the cart,” my friend said, wheeling it in. I followed her, picking up my bag from where I’d dropped it on the floor.
Elsie had a slight smirk on her face. “Told you,” she whispered. “I’m surprised he didn’t come over last night.”
“I wish he had,” I muttered.
The food was displayed on Evan’s dining room table in its little warming trays when Imogen arrived.
“I’ll walk you through the menu,” Elsie said as Imogen surveyed the food. “For the cocktail hour, we have seafood salad shooters with shrimp, calamari, and mussels with extra-virgin olive oil and lemon, along with figs and prosciutto and wild mushroom tartlets. We also have miniature crab cakes, which are a big favorite, and artichoke mousse puffs and mini lobster rolls.”
My mouth was watering. I loved all of Elsie’s food, but my favorite was the mini lobster rolls.
Mika took one of each of the appetizers.
“Imogen, these are delicious.”
“As long as it’s better than what Kaitlyn served. Can you imagine, getting pregnant when someone is about to get married? The nerve. You should serve tuna tartare. Maybe then the raw fish will make her sick,” Imogen said meanly.
“I don’t think that will keep,” I said.
Elsie’s mouth was agape, and I nudged her. I didn’t want Imogen to go off on another rant about her bridesmaids or lack thereof.
“And for the entrée, we have steak, fish, chicken, and vegetarian options. The steak is filet Oscar with asparagus, hollandaise sauce, and truffle mac ’n’ cheese. The chicken is chicken Kiev with haricot beans tossed in grade-A balsamic vinegar and garlic-herb mashed potatoes.”
