Eve
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I point over my shoulder. “I thought this was the bathroom.”
The woman, most likely Ryder’s mom, studies me with bloodshot eyes. Her shoulder-length hair is pushed back off her face as though she’s been running her hands through it. Her nose is red and her face puffy, but there’s a beauty behind all that, and it’s strangely familiar.
“Eve,” Cameron says, but I don’t take my eyes off the woman at his side. “Give me a second and I’ll be—”
“Oh my God!” I take a few steps into the room. “I know you.”
The woman jerks and watches me through cautious eyes.
Cameron clears his throat. “Eve—”
“I worshipped you.” My heart races with my impending fan-girl freak-out. “I had all your magazine covers pinned to my walls.”
A tiny smile curls her lips.
“You’re D’lilah Monroe.” Butterflies explode in my stomach.
She nods and sits up a little taller.
“I fucking love you.” I close the distance between us. “I mean I wanted to be you. You’re so beautiful.” Time has aged her, but she’s still supermodel material.
She sniffs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you. That was a long time ago.”
I look at Cameron, who’s observing me through narrowed eyes. “This is amazing.” I point to D’lilah. “She was my role model growing up.” I swing my gaze back to her. “Why did you give up modeling?”
Cameron stands. “Eve, please, give us a—”
“Cam.” D’lilah grabs his hand, and he looks down at her.
My jaw clenches, and my stomach gets hard as a wave of jealousy washes over me.
She blinks up at him. “It’s okay.”
He nods and drops back to sitting.
I swallow against the thick lump forming in my throat. The star-struck fog dissipates with awareness. Cameron was married to D’lilah Monroe, the most beautiful and sought-after woman in the world.
All of a sudden I’m the slut in the room. The other woman. My dress feels too tight, my boobs too big. I cross my arms over my chest and take a step back. “I uh . . . I’m gonna”—I point with my thumb over my shoulder—“find the bathroom.”
“You don’t have to go.” D’lilah looks up at me and pats the couch next to her. “Come sit. It’s been so long since I’ve talked about my career; might be fun to reminisce.”
Cameron has his head buried in his hands. This is clearly uncomfortable for him, and it’s not a fucking party for me either. “Oh, no, I can’t—”
“Dad.” We all look to the door where Ryder’s head is popped in through a crack. He looks at me. “Oh hey, Eve, you’re in here too, huh?”
I give an awkward wave. This is so uncomfortable.
“The caterers need you to sign an invoice.”
Cameron pinches the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Layla?”
“Your name’s on the credit card, so it has to be you.”
Cameron’s eyes move between D’lilah and me. He’s obviously stressed out about leaving her alone. Or maybe leaving her alone with me? Either way, I hate his discomfort.
I take a couple steps toward him. “It’s okay. We’ll talk fashion from the nineties until you get back.” What? No! What am I doing?
He looks at D’lilah. She nods and smiles. Whoa . . . that smile. The fan girl in me jumps up and down, clapping her hands.
He groans and pushes up off the couch, his eyes on me. He mouths “Be right back” and passes me to meet Ryder at the door they close as they leave.
I have a seat next to D’lilah, and my hands knot together in my lap. “So, uh . . . Vogue. What was that like?”
I pray Cameron comes back quickly. Every second sitting on a couch with D’lilah Monroe solidifies the truth. I had no chance with Cameron, and with a supermodel as competition, that fact is carved in stone.
~*~
Cameron
I’m in a hurry to get back to my room. After signing invoices and explaining where the recycle can is on the side of the garage, I move through the house to relieve Eve of her babysitting duties. The fireworks ended and people are headed home, stopping me to say goodbye. I rush through goodbyes, worried about leaving the girls alone in my room for too long.
D’lilah showed up drunk and in tears. Knowing Eve and all her sass, who knows what kind of trouble she could be getting in with my ex-wife? I should’ve had Ryder sit back there and play ref.
I finally get halfway down the hall, preparing myself for the worst, when a sound I haven’t heard in years filters out from behind the bedroom door.
D’lilah’s laughter. And not the girlie kind of laughter, but the deep booming guttural laughter of the uncontrolled kind. My breath catches in my chest, and I freeze, taking a moment to enjoy the sound of it. Only a woman like Eve could bring out that kind of response in a woman who hasn’t smiled in over ten years. The light hum of Eve’s giggle goes straight to my chest. A warm pressure forms behind my ribs. What the fuck?
If I could, I’d toss D’lilah’s ass in a cab and pin Eve to my bed or bend her over my couch until her legs give out. I scrub my face. What the hell is this girl doing to me?
I put my hand on the doorknob when I hear Eve’s voice.
“I can’t believe you lived with Telle Sailor.”
“She swore peeing in the shower fought athlete’s foot.” D’lilah’s voice is light, lighter than I’ve heard it in years.
“Eww, really?” Eve goes silent. “Wait, does it work?”
“Totally.”
They both burst into another round of hysterical laughter. As much as I’d love to let this continue, if I don’t get my mouth on Eve, I might explode.
I push open the door, and both their smiling faces turn to me. D’lilah’s eyes brighten; Eve’s smile falls. “Ladies, seems like you two are hitting it off well.”
“You’ll never believe it, Cam. She still has my first Seventeen Magazine cover. I told her if she brings it by I’d sign it for her.”
My gaze swings to Eve, who’s trying hard not to look at me. “That’s great, ’Li.”
D’lilah takes a deep breath. “Well, I better go.”
“Ryder can give you a lift. He’s on his way out to meet some friends.”
“Eve, you’re not coming with us?” she says.
Go with her and Ryder? They really did hit it off.
Eve swings her gaze to me. “Oh, ah . . .” She shifts uncomfortably. “I’m gonna hang out here. I have friends out there waiting for me.”
She means Mason, but last I saw he was in the middle of a competitive game of pool where big money was at stake. He won’t be looking for her for a little while, just enough time for her and me to have a little talk.
“Oh, okay.” D’lilah’s eyebrows drop low, and her smile droops like the weight of reality just showed up and sat right on her good time. She stands and turns to Eve. “Thank you. I haven’t talked about the past in so long.”
Eve shrugs. “Sure thing. Anytime you want to pass on anymore supermodel secrets, I’m game.”
“Ryder’s out front. Car’s running.”
D’lilah nods and with a sad smile trudges out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I run my hand through my hair. “Sorry about—”
“I can’t believe you were married to D’lilah Monroe.” She blinks at nothing and shakes her head.
“It was a long time ago.”
Her eyes find mine. “You care about her.” She sounds disappointed.
“I owe her.”
She sighs and drops her gaze to the floor. “You owe her and you care about her.”
“I guess.”
She cringes, but nods. “She looked . . . sad.”
“She is, and she upsets easily, which upsets me.”
“Because you care about her,” she says under her breath.
“I care about you.” Shit. Why the hell did I say that?
Her eyes dart to mine, jaw slack.
“I don’t want to care about you.” Dammit, slow down and think. I could say all this better if I knew how the hell I felt. “But the thing is you keep poppin’ in my head and starring in my dirtiest dreams. What you did tonight with ’Li . . .” I shake my head. “I don’t want to stay away from you anymore.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, I feel the truth behind them.
Her hand flies to her throat, and her chest rises and falls faster.
I tilt my head and study the strong woman who I’d swear could never get brought to her knees, and now she’s on the verge of crying. “That doesn’t sit right with you, does it, Eve?”
Her head moves slowly from side to side.
I want to prove it to her, pay her back for showing up here tonight, pushing her way into my life, and, by making D’lilah laugh, further planting herself in my soul. Marking her spot in a permanent way.
This is happening. I’ve been denying it for weeks, avoiding the little voice in my head that keeps telling me this woman means something. I’ve made the argument with myself that twenty-one is too young, wrestled with the idea that we’re in two different stages of life, and listed the reasons why we’d never last. But here I am, mere yards from my bed with her and thinking the couple feet that separates us is way too much.
“So um . . . just so we’re straight, you’re thirty-eight, have an easily upset-able ex-wife, and a seventeen-year-old son. Is there anything else I should know?”
Yes. “Not really.”
“That’s a lot to digest.”
My gaze slides up her luscious body. “Too much?”
She rakes her teeth along her lower lip, and her eyes flare. “No.”
I take a step toward her and run my thumb along her lower lip to release it from her teeth. Those big eyes, flushed cheeks, full lips. “Missed touching you, doll.”
“After you found out how old I was, you never came by.” Her eyebrows pinch together. “Is our age difference too much for you?”
“Yeah.”
Her head jerks a tiny bit.
“But only when we’re not together. I can justify staying away because of our age difference. But now . . .” I hold out my hand, and she presses her palm to mine. I run my thumb over the tender skin at the underside of her wrist. “Being so close to you, seeing you with Mason and hearing him call you his girl . . .” Fuck, even thinking about it now is making me crazy. “I want you.”
I thought it was what she wanted to hear, but her face twists with what looks like confusion. “So you see me with Mason and now you want to fuck me?”
Her words are like a blow to my gut. That’s not what I meant.
“Eve, I—”
She pulls her hand from mine. “That’s fine, Cameron.” Her voice is hard. “Honestly, I wish I could shut you down and turn you away, but I can’t. It sucks, it really does, but the truth is I’ll be whatever you want me to be. You want to show up at midnight for a quick fuck, spend the night, take me to breakfast, or not . . .” She shrugs; her big blue eyes are steely and set on mine. “That’s fine. I can’t say no to you, and if that makes me your slut, then I can live with that.”
“My slut.”
She nods. “You’ve been honest with me, and it’s only fair I do the same.” She runs her hands through her hair and gathers it over her shoulder. “I like you, more than I should and probably more than you like me. If a fuck buddy is what you’re looking for, I can be that.”
I cringe at the casualty of her words and how easily she dismisses her worth. “Stop talking.”
“You call me doll. I’m a toy to you.” She tilts her head, and I don’t see a hint of disgust as she speaks of her worth. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. Honestly, it’s better that I know where we stand, because the wondering is what’ll make me crazy and that’s—”
I hook her behind the neck and tug her to me, covering her lips with mine. Lucky for me I caught her off guard and mid-sentence so her mouth is open and my tongue slides in. She moans and leans her weight against my chest. My free hand moves down to cup her ass and hold her up and close.
Her breasts melt against my chest, and her tiny hands fist into my shirt. She thinks I’m using her for sex. I suppose I was, at first, but the night I left her place after The Blackout, I knew it was more than that. How much more, I didn’t know, but now with her in my arms, her ass in my hand, and my tongue in her mouth, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m making her mine.
I scoop her up by her ass and turn to place her on my clothes dresser. Standing between her legs, I slide my hands up the outside of her thighs to the hem of her dress. She’s convinced she’s nothing more than a place to bury my dick, but she’s wrong. And I’m going to prove it.
Pushing her dress up, she rocks from side to side so I can get it out from under her ass and to her hips. I look down to her soft thighs, which cradle me between them. They lead up to a pair of bright blue lace panties, and as hot as they are, I’m itching to see what’s underneath.
“The door.” She’s breathing hard, her words sputtering on panting breath. “Is it locked?”
I run my hands up and down her thighs, willing her to relax. “Don’t fuckin’ care.” Ryder and D’lilah are gone. Anyone else who walks in can watch or fuck off.
My fingers find their way beneath her panties.
“What if Mason—oh God . . .”
“Relax. He’s playing pool.” I lean in and suck her bottom lip into my mouth, allowing my teeth to scrape against it upon release. “What I have in mind won’t take long.”
Her legs lock around my hips, ankles hook behind the backs of my knees. “Don’t stop.” She braces her weight with her palms behind her, and her eyes flutter closed.
“Look at me.” I bury three fingers to my knuckles.
She opens her eyes, but it takes a few seconds for the fogginess to clear.
“I want you to listen very carefully.” I cup her breast then pull one strap off her shoulder to pop one full breast out from her bra. One hand between her legs, the other toying with her nipple, I have her at my mercy. “You’re not my slut.” I roll her nipple between my fingers, and she groans so fucking sexy I feel it in my balls. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”
“Cameron—”
“Tell me you get me.” I plunge in three fingers and clamp down on her nipple. “You’re not Mason’s or anyone else’s.”
“More . . .” The word fades into a moan.
“I know you want to come, baby, and you will, but first we need to get some shit straight. When we’re straight, I’m gonna lay you back and eat until I’m full.”
“Oh my—”
“But not until we’re clear.”
She’s writhing against my palm, arching her back and offering her breast. My dick is straining behind my zipper, but tonight isn’t about my getting off.
“You’re worth more to me than a quick fuck.” I lean down and kiss her forehead.
“Whatever you want, just promise you won’t stop.”
A tiny grin pulls at my lips. “Whatever I want . . .”
“Mmmm . . .”
“Tell me you’re not a slut.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not . . . a slut.”
It doesn’t sound like she believes it, but we haven’t got all night.
“Lie back.”
She adjusts and drops back to her elbows while I drag her ass to hang off the edge of the dresser. I slide her panties off and toss them aside then drop to my knees. Placing a kiss on one ankle at a time, I rest one of her long legs over my shoulder, followed by the other. Her high heels dig into my back, and I groan at the pleasure-pain.
My hands cup her ass, and with my thumbs, I open her up to me. “Fuckin’ starving for this, baby.”
I lick long and slowly. Her tender flesh, so soft against my tongue, is heaven, and I delve in deeper for more. Mmm . . . so damn sweet. Her thighs quiver against my shoulders, and I bury my fingers back inside her tight body.
Her head drops back to the wall; hands fist into my hair. She pulls me closer, grinding down on my fingers while I use my lips, tongue, and small grazes of my teeth to bring her close.
She’s moaning my name, and her legs clamp down hard on my back. I growl as she pulls me in, draws me deeper into her body. Sensing she’s ready, I suck hard and hold on with my teeth.
A rasping whimper falls from her lips, and her body tightens up. She calls out my name and rips at my hair as the orgasm thrashes through her. She’s pulsing against my mouth, and my eyes drop closed in an attempt to control the urge to seek out my own release. To sink inside and mark her so deeply that any man who comes close can smell me on her skin.
That sounds insane in my own head, but it also sounds right. What the hell am I getting myself into?