Evan had intended to come home and have a talk with Ruth. A mature, serious talk that culminated in him asking some schoolkid shit like, Will you be my girlfriend? And her laughing in his face but saying yes.

What good intentions he’d had. And now here he was, trying not to disgrace himself while she lapped pre-come from the swollen head of his cock.

He couldn’t quite feel bad about it.

Evan snatched in a breath as Ruth’s lips wrapped around his length, hot and soft and wet. Her tongue slid out to massage the underside of his erection, and then she sucked him slowly into her mouth. He forced his eyes open, even though sheer ecstasy made his lids heavy. She was too beautiful to miss.

Her hands were squeezing his thighs, her short nails digging into him. He didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all. Evan watched as his cock disappeared into her mouth, inch by inch, and felt the pull of her lips at the same time, and could have passed out from the pleasure. When he felt the impossible pressure of her throat, he almost choked.

Something drove him to press a hand to her neck, beneath her chin. He felt her muscles relax, expand as she swallowed him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out. “Holy shit, Ruth.”

She made a sound he couldn’t decipher, but when she looked up at him with dancing eyes, he knew she was laughing. Or trying to. She couldn’t quite manage it with his cock filling her mouth.

When her nose brushed against his belly, and she sucked in the last inch of him, Evan realised that he was biting his own fist hard enough to leave marks behind. He had to, just to maintain the last scraps of his control. To stop himself from bucking against her, from fucking her mouth.

After a few seconds of perfect, oh-fuck-yes pleasure, she pulled back. His length slid from her lips, glistening wet, and she gasped as she caught her breath. Then, before he could ask if she was okay, she took him hungrily back into her mouth.

“Jesus,” he growled as she sped up the pace. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking—ohhh shit.” He watched her slide back and forth along his near-painful erection, her eyes fluttering shut, her low moans sending vibrations along his cock and up his spine. He couldn’t stop his hands from cradling her face, sinking into the softness of her hair, even as he chastised himself.

He didn’t do things like this. He didn’t give into his urge to rut against a woman’s face, to use her mouth, even if his balls were tightening and his vision was blurring and his lust was an uncontrollable beast.

But Ruth pressed a hand over his, as if encouraging him. He looked down and realised that she’d slid her other hand beneath her waistband, that she was touching herself. His knees almost buckled. Evan sagged back against the door and pressed a hand to the wall for support.

Christ, he wanted her naked. He wanted to watch as she played with her own pussy for him, as she came with his cock in her mouth. He wanted to see her cunt wet and soft and wanting him.

“You like this,” he grunted, his hips jerking as she sucked him deep.

She moaned again, her eyes meeting his, her tongue working him expertly.

“I want you to come,” he said. He didn’t recognise his own voice. It was harsh, commanding, nothing like him, but it tumbled from his lips anyway and it seemed right. “I want you to come,” he repeated, firmer now, “and then I want to fuck you.”

She shook her head slightly and pulled back, releasing him. “In my mouth,” she breathed.

If he hadn’t been desperate before, he was now. The sight of her gleaming, swollen lips, the sound of her breathless murmur—it was all too much. She swallowed him again and he gave in. He tightened his grip on her hair and thrust, holding her still as he pumped into her, gritting his teeth as the hand beneath her waistband moved faster.

When she came, squeezing her eyes shut, her throat seemed to tighten around him. He felt the vibration of her long, drawn out moan, and he let go. Sensation danced along his spine as he groaned out his release, holding her tightly against him, burying himself. She clutched his thighs and swallowed everything he gave her.

Completely drained, Evan ran a hand over his face. His skin was hot, sweat gathering at his brow as if he’d run a damned marathon. He found himself grinning from ear to ear, which wasn’t really surprising. He might’ve just had the best orgasm of his life.

Ruth started to rise. In the interests of efficiency, Evan simplified the process and picked her up.

She gave a very un-Ruth-like shriek, followed by a reassuringly Ruth-like scowl. “What are you doing?”

Evan clasped his hands beneath her arse and tried not to look too smug when her legs tightened around his hips. “Nothing.”

“Oh, really?” She glared at him, her nose an inch from his. “It’s just, looking you in the eye is usually harder than this.”

“You never look me in the eye anyway.”

“Incorrect. I look you in the eye at least once a day. It’s disgracefully intimate.” Her lips were pursed, her eyes dancing. She was smiling his favourite kind of smile, the one that didn’t seem like a smile at all.

Evan kissed the corner of her mouth softly. He’d thought he loved that mouth before; now he was ready to pay it tithes. “You’re in a good mood. I don’t suppose—”

“It has nothing to do with you,” she cut in primly. “So don’t be smug.”

“Nothing?” He grinned. She huffed. He leant against the door and readjusted his hold on her, because she didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was essentially grabbing her arse.

So he might as well really enjoy it.

“Maybe it has something to do with you,” she admitted. “Slightly. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” His smile grew wider.

“Perhaps. By the way,” she added, her brow furrowing. “Why did you text me? I mean, did you want something?”

“Aside from this?”

She snorted. “If you’re trying to say that you rushed home from work for a blowjob—”

“To see you,” he corrected. “I rushed home from work to see you. I wanted to talk.”

“About?”

Evan tried to remember the way he’d been going to say things, and failed. He’d been aiming for something approaching a romantic declaration, but not romantic enough to make Ruth choke on her own spit. Or hit him and run away. Then again, she seemed unusually receptive to gentleness right now. Apparently, orgasms loosened her up.

“Well,” he said slowly, “It’s funny, what with Brune being here and all, but I actually wanted to tell you that… Well, that I know about Daniel, and I don’t care.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“He, um…” Evan searched for a simple way to explain. “He and I had a disagreement at work today.”

Ruth had become very still, very stiff and upright in his arms. “A disagreement about what?”

“You, I suppose.”

The last scraps of contentment faded from her expression. “Are you taking the piss?”

“No. I—”

“Put me down.”

This was not going well, but then, he hadn’t expected it to. “Why?”

“Put me down,” she repeated, “and put your bloody dick away.”

He sighed. “Whatever you want.” Letting go of Ruth felt like throwing away a vital organ, but that was silly. She was still right there in front of him, glaring in a comfortingly familiar manner. Evan yanked his clothes into place but didn’t bother to zip up his jeans. “You’re upset. Do you want me to keep talking, or do you want to rant?”

“Keep talking,” she said, “and I’ll rant when you’re done.”

“Okay. I guess that girl we bumped into—his sister-in-law? Told him that she saw us together. Or maybe it was the plumber. Or maybe it was both. Anyway, he was pissed. And I realised that…” Evan sighed. “He’s jealous. Right? He sent the flowers. He’s your ex.”

Ruth wasn’t looking at him anymore. She was looking at the wall, her face as blank as the clean, magnolia paint. “You realised. You just… realised.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out before.”

She looked at him sharply. “Why would you figure it out before?”

Evan had the feeling that he was heading into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t tell if the ground would fall out from under him, or the walls would close in around him, or something else entirely. He didn’t know where to look for the threat. “Well… he always told me to stay away from you. He was so fucking smug when I found out about his car. He—”

“His car?” Ruth looked furious now, but he wasn’t sure who she was furious with. “He’s still banging on about that fucking car?”

“Not exactly. But—”

“He had no right to do that.” She jerked back, began to pace. Evan stared. He had never seen Ruth pace. He had seen her wander around a room as she spoke, and he had seen her sit in odd places or in strange positions, and he had seen her wring her hands and tap rhythms out against table-tops. He had never seen her stride from one end of a space to the other with a look on her face that screamed murder, and he didn’t like it.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care about what?” She demanded.

He couldn’t decipher the look on her face. He should be cautious, he knew—but she was upset. Ruth was upset, and he couldn’t stand it, and he thought he could fix it. So he said, “I don’t care if you have a criminal record because you smashed up that dick’s car.”

Ruth stared at him for a moment, her face impassive. Then she said, “I think you should go.” Her tone was mild, unreadable. Which meant that she was hiding a hurricane of emotions he’d never have access to.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me why you’re upset.”

She shrugged. “Why don’t you go and find whoever’s been feeding you this shit and ask them, since they know everything?”

“Ruth. No-one’s—”

“You’ve been sitting around talking about my family,” she said quietly, “and you want me to act like you’ve done something good.”

“No.” He shook his head. If the movement was a little frantic, well—it matched his mind’s desperate cries of Fix it! “That’s not what happened, and that’s not what I want.”

“So what do you want?” She demanded. “Because I’m really starting to wonder. Do you want to do this? Do you want to be with me? Or do you just want to solve a mystery and save a girl?”

“What the fuck?” He had no idea how things had gone so exquisitely wrong. “Ruth. You know it’s not like that.”

“It’s not?” Her jaw was hard, as if she were clenching her teeth. Her dark eyes shimmered like ink. “If it’s not like that, why would you fight over me with Daniel?” She thrust a hand into her hair, began pacing again. “Jesus, that’s probably why Mr. Burne came over.”

“We didn’t fight,” Evan insisted.

She paused to give him a disbelieving look. “I know Daniel. I know you.”

“And I want to know you!” Evan burst out. Because it had become almost painful, the way everyone knew something except him. The way Daniel or random women in shops or even Zach could drop shit on him about someone he—

Well. About the woman his life revolved around.

But he didn’t know how to explain that to Ruth without sounding sickeningly selfish. He realised suddenly that his intentions tonight—his idea that he’d reveal all the knowledge he’d collected and excuse her of all sins like some kind of fucking God—had been selfish.

She looked up at him, a heart breaking little frown on her face, and said, “You do know me.”

Evan swallowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

But it was too late. He could see that in her weary, hopeless eyes, in the way she rubbed at her temple.

Then she said, “Just go. Okay? Please?”

Jesus. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave things like this, and he didn’t want to leave her at all.

But he couldn’t refuse. So he went.