Page 30 of All The Ways to Miss You

I lift my chin, stand tall, and smooth out my skirt before heading down the hall with renewed determination. I decide to be aggressive, flirty, and if possible, sexy and desirable. If he can do those things to me, I can do them to him. I can play the game too.

I feel alive. And nauseated. But I focus on alive.

When I reach the door, Evan’s where I hoped he’d be, leaning over the tub fixing the hot water handle. Or he’s trying to.

“Took you long enough to show up.” I prop myself against the door frame, folding my arms. I’ve been showering Arctic-style for too long. Just thinking about it causes me to shiver and squeeze my arms tighter.

“I thought a few cold showers would do you some good after the other night.” He swings his attention to me with a grin, but his gaze falls from my face and lands on my heels. There his focus travels up my legs and catches at my hips and pauses. After leaving him questioning if I wear panties, I hoped he might want to find out the truth for himself, and it appears he does.

You’re going down, Evan Wade.

Resisting the urge to respond to his jab, I ask, “Almost done?”

“Just finishing up.” He returns to his work.

From here, the shower appears fixed, but when he reaches to turn the knob to test it, water sprays violently in all directions. It shoots across the room, and I jump back to avoid it. Evan leaps into the tub to fight the deluge, but all I can do at this point is laugh. Thank you, karma!

After a few obscenities, Evan scrambles on hands and knees to cut off the water at the valve under the sink. Drenched, he slumps back against the tub, his eyes closed, appearing defeated.

This is when I take the chance to do something crazy. Something I would only do in a secret fantasy in my mind, but this time, I do it for real. It’s not part of the plan, but I go with it, regardless.

“Here.” With a shaky hand, I offer him something to dry himself. I hold my breath as he takes it and rubs it in a circle over his face. When his eyes are clear, he looks down at his hands to inspect the fuzzy fabric.

“What’s this?”

I allow him to determine the answer on his own. When he does, the realization shows on his face. His mouth drops open and his head snaps to me. His darkening gaze settles on my lacy black bra, the new one I bought Sunday afternoon. I have no idea what gave me the idea to give him the sweater off my back, so now I’m standing here in heels, a pencil skirt, and a lacy bra, and doing my best to look sexy.

Who knew I could be this brazen? Scratch that. This insane! To conceal the uncertainty of my runaway plan, I leave my expression unfazed.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he growls.

“Just a friend helping a friend.”

Though I’m half-naked, all of a sudden I’m fearless at the challenge to make him want me. His mood clouds with lust. I’m affecting him on every level. He can’t hide from it any longer.

He pushes off the floor and approaches. His soaked white T-shirt sticks to his skin, revealing his perfectly formed hard angles. Pecs. Six-pack. Biceps, triceps—all the major muscle groups are available in one sexy package, waiting to be unwrapped.

This image feeds my bravery, or recklessness, for what I do next. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I slide one arm up the door frame and settle my other hand on my hip, working my curves like a lingerie model. I bite my pouty berry-tinted lip.

It appears he’s waging a conflict in his mind. It’s written in his flexing fingers, clenching and unclenching at his side. He seems to be contemplating whether he should reach out and touch me. Do it, I secretly beg. I want him to make the move. He needs to touch me first.

“What are you waiting for?” I purr.

“Is this what you want?” His hands move, but not in my direction. They reach for the hem of his soaked shirt. He flips it over his head, peeling the fabric from his body. Now he’s topless too.

My breathing halts as my mouth parts, and my gaze falls to his chest.

On another day, I would shy away from this. On another day, I wouldn’t be doing this. But today, right now, I’m too far into this charade to step back. I’ve created this persona that’s gutsy and self-assured, and now I have to play along until I succeed or I’ll look weak. And I refuse to appear weak.

His dark hair is tousled into a perfect mess, and his skin glistens from the water explosion. Evan’s more beautiful than I could have imagined, but there’s a far bigger problem. My dedication to my agenda is faltering at the mere sight of him. With every rapid heartbeat, I’m fighting the need to reach out and place my hand on his chest.

He drops his soaked shirt to the floor and inches closer, like he’s daring me. He’s close enough to kiss, but pauses in the danger zone where our bodies are inches apart. His hot breath drifts over my bare, chilled skin. Heat builds a wall between us. Evan’s taking everything so slowly, it’s turning me on even more. My nipples perk up, and my chest rises to meet his. He glances down, seeming to notice the change, and smirks.

He’s on to me, knows what I’m doing. He’s playing me like I’m playing him, and it’s working.

When I can’t stand it anymore, two words tumble from my mouth in a whisper. “Touch me.”

My lips tremble when he leans in on command. His breath stirs the hair near my ear, causing a loose strand to tickle my neck. I ease my head aside to quell the itch. Wherever his gaze or breath touches, my collarbone, the swell of my breasts, or my neck, goose bumps bloom across my skin, and the sensation they produce dives straight to my core.