Evan nudges me, and I realize he's wanting me to turn around and face him. I want to. I want to be held so badly my stomach churns—but I just can’t. I rock back against him and bury my head in my elbow, and he folds himself around me. Silence swims around us, and there’s no pressure in it. Evan is just here, and I think that’s why I’m able to keep talking.
“She was supposed to let me go after that. I would never tell anyone what had happened. That's what she said. But instead, when she got off the phone she knocked me out again with...I guess it was ether or something. And when I woke up, she and Jim Gunn were in the front seat and I was in the back of the SUV, and they told me we were going to Mexico.”
I stop speaking and focus on my breathing. I don't want to tell him anymore, but my mouth seems to move on its own accord. My voice is husky, words too fast.
“I remember I could see the stars through the windows. I've always loved the stars. They always seemed like so many possibilities. And I remember how it felt to know that none of that mattered anymore. My life—” my voice cracks, so I swallow and breathe deeply. “It was over.”
My throat seizes up, as if my body is trying to force me to stop talking. Everything that follows is too painful to remember in such detail, but I know I can't stop the story here. Evan will ask me more questions.
“Guapo bought me in a crappy little house just outside Guadalupe Victoria. I think he paid them a few hundred thousand dollars. He took me to Jesus's penthouse apartment in Chihuahua and Jesus made me his beard.”
I inhale again, surprised that I'm not crying. The inside of my cheek is bleeding from where my molars have sunken into it, but I'm not crying. Not anymore.
I'm not crying until Evan presses his cheek against mine and kisses my salty skin. “You were the victim. I promise.”
I bury my head in my hands, because he sounds so sure. It makes me want to cry. I wanted to be a good person. I wanted to do things right.
He's rubbing my shoulder now, stroking my back. His fingers are a benediction, cleansing me. Soothing me. I can feel him breathing behind me. His chest is so much bigger than mine. So much harder. All of a sudden, I have an absurd desire to turn around and kiss his throat.
I arch my back against his soothing strokes and it's like he heard my thoughts. He turns me around to face him, and suddenly I can smell him: a potent blend of heat and skin and male. I don't dare kiss him, but I can't stop myself from nuzzling his throat. God, the way he feels. Those blue eyes. I'm looking up at him and I can see them glowing in the darkness. I can see his mouth. I want to kiss those perfect lips, to tell him how much he means to me. How much this means.
The thought is like a directive. I arch my back, wriggling closer to him, so my br**sts are pressed against his chest, and I see his eyes widen. Then my lips touch down on his, and Evan jerks.
I’m worried he will pull away, but then he groans—and that’s a sound I remember. My head spins wildly as his mouth responds to mine. God, he’s hungry. I wrap my arm around his back and hip, trying to squeeze him to me as our mouths dance. I slide my tongue inside his mouth and tug him closer and he throws his head back, shuddering as he breaks contact.
“Careful, baby.”
I run my hand over his neck, tickling his hairline with my fingers, but I can’t be careful. I can’t do anything but pull him closer to me. The way he’s breathing—fast and hard—lets me know he doesn’t mind. I find his mouth again and this time, he is rougher. Hungry.
“God you taste so sweet.”
I am gasping. “You do.”
I’m lost in the sweetness of him. Unexpected. I never thought a man could be like this. So gentle and rough and soft and hard at once. I want him so much—and Evan wants me, too.
He eases me back against the pillows and he climbs on top of me. I can feel the weight of his body between my legs. I grab his butt and press him into me. I can feel his hardness where I want it most. The world spins.
“Merri. Merri.” He groans again and starts to sit up. I grab his biceps, pulling him back down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Damnit, Merri.” This, as I sink down on her small, soft body. My right hand tunnels into her hair, caressing her forehead. I press my mouth to hers and Merri tastes delicious. Like a peach. Her lips are warm and velvet soft. Mine glide against them, and as she works her way into my veins, I feel my body trembling. Her hands are wrapped around my biceps. Her hair is everywhere. Her eyes are shining in the dark.
I kiss her once more, then pull away. I need to go. Now.
She takes my face between her soft palms. “Don't, Evan.”
“I can't stay.”
But her mouth won’t let me go. She kisses my throat, and I press myself against the heat between her legs and it feels incredible.
She's got her arm around my back, keeping me locked in place, and it's all that I can do to keep my fingers from trailing in between those curvy legs and finding her damp heat.
She glides her hands down my sides and I moan her name. Oh, f**k. How long has it been? I can barely get my f**king breath.
“Evan.” She tugs my hair, bringing my mouth down over hers, and I don't hold back this time. My tongue plunges inside her, tasting and teasing, and I squeeze her breast, stroking until her nipple hardens under my hungry palm.
She shudders, and I swear to God I see stars. I'm slipping beyond my stopping point when, with a ragged breath, I wrench my mouth off hers. It takes every ounce of willpower I have, but I pull myself away.
“Be careful what you ask for, angel.” It comes out almost a growl.
Her fingers skate over my mouth. “I needed that,” she gasps. “I'm sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Unraveling her hair from around my hand, I back away from her, rising up on my knees and pressing my palm hard against my c**k in a futile effort to calm myself down. “Be careful. You’re almost too much for me to resist.”
“What if I feel the same way?” Her voice is wobbly, like she hasn’t spoken in a long time.
“You don't. You don't have a damn clue what you're getting yourself into.” I sigh loudly, pressing my hand against my forehead.
Merri sits up, her gentle fingers curling around my elbow. I inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo and feel the heat of her body and see the confusion on her face, and I can't do it. I just can't be this damn close to her.
I'm off the bed and to the door before any more mistakes are made.
I stand outside her door for a few minutes with my back against the wall, breathing heavily and trying to will my erection away. I think about Merri on the other side of the wall, and the soft skin of the inside of her thighs, and all that long, red hair, and I know if I don't leave the hallway, I'll end up back in bed with her.