Evan

Is that the truth? Sure, why not. I’ll tell you what the truth is, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, I want to kiss this girl. But, I hate Roman. Not really, but right now I do. ‘Get the job done. Make her fall for you.’ Yeah, ok. Seriously, though, I brought this eighteen-year-old girl here to my house, and now I need to put the moves on her to get her to open up?

Yeah, can we say creeper?

Not that I don’t want to put the moves on her, because I fucking do, but I need her to trust me, that’s the most important thing. Because if this is going to work, her trust is my number one priority. But, I have a job to do. I need to follow this through to the end. So, I move a little closer to her, hoping more than anything she doesn’t slap me.

Her eyes widen, and I can’t even think of a way where this turns out the way I want.

Just one kiss.

Just one secret.

Fuck it.

I move even closer. Bad things are about to happen. She sees me as some fucking savior who shows up at the perfect moment, always ready to catch her when she falls, but I live my life in well calculated steps. Nothing is by accident and everything is more than intended.

This girl has no idea what she’s saying yes to.

I’ll be her ruin.

I raise my hand, testing the waters, and brush a strand of silky brown hair behind her ear.

Damn, she’s pretty. Before I can do anything, she fists my shirt into her hand, roughly pulling me down to her. I crash my lips to hers. And that’s where I fuck up. That’s where my downfall begins. Because when my lips taste hers, the warmth and sweetness of her mouth pushes my cravings from desiring her kiss to needing to claim her completely.

Samples are for people unsure of what flavor they want to try. I’m fully fucking hooked on the taste of her and don’t need to try anything else.

I groan and rope my hand around her hair, tugging her head back so I can bite along her skin, right where her jugular pulses. The sounds of her moans as I caress her neck with my mouth remind me tonight is all about bad choices. I’m already on the plank walking toward the ocean...might as well jump in head first, hands tied behind my back. The only thing that gives me pause is her innocence.

“Tell me to stop,” I whisper in a rush.

“Evan,” she sighs into my mouth, “please don’t stop. You feel so good.”

She slides her hand under my shirt, trailing her nails up my spine. Her hand is hot on my skin, searing me and encouraging me to drag her off this sinking ship as we plunge into the depths together. I want to devour this girl, feel her tightness around my throbbing dick. This sham of a rental house could be blowing away in the storm for all I give a fuck. It sounds like Armageddon all around us as the hurricane pummels the windows with its wrath. I rock against her to ease the ache begging for relief. She’s the only soft thing in this room. Her fingers dig into my back as I kiss her hot little mouth. I’m ready to know what every single bit of this girl taste like—the skin above her belly button, the curves of her tits, hips, thighs, pussy. Getting her to spill secrets worked out so well. Fuck. My fingers hook through the loops of her shorts and tug.

Bella has this superpower type of ability to crack my armor. It’s in those doe eyes of hers, always gazing up at me and getting exactly what she wants. I’d be a lying motherfucker to say I wouldn’t give in every single time. But she’s right about paying a cost. There will be hell to pay when daylight finds us. Because no matter how good this feels, how good kissing her or fucking her or both will feel, nothing will repair the damage I’m ultimately going to do to her heart.

I push away. “Sorry,” I say, drunk on lust for her.

Her chest heaves. “Don’t be.” Her eyes tell a different story though. It almost looks like she’s regretting kissing me. Fuck. “We should probably check the storm.”

I pull out my phone, to escape the look in her eyes, and remind myself why I’m here.

“The worst of the storm has passed over us by now.”

“Phew.” She avoids looking at me. “I should get some sleep.”

“You can have my bed.”

“I don’t feel right taking your bed,” she objects.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll take the couch.” I pack everything away and lead her back to the bedroom to make sure she has everything she’ll need to sleep.

“Wait,” she says, “be right back.”

She hustles down the hallway and returns with my taco shirt in her hand. “Mind if I sleep in this?”

Something primal passes through me at the thought of her wearing my shirt. “Not at all. You can keep it.”

She laughs. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“I feel bad taking your bed,” she says again, inside my room.

“Don’t.”

More than anything I want to crawl under the covers with her, maybe get another kiss. But, I don’t. Bella is the only piece out of place in my life, because while I knew the power she’s held over me since the first time I saw her, I had no idea just how consuming being this close to her would become. I’m an addict, constantly looking for another fix and my dealer is now here, in my house, trapped in the dark with me, telling me to take anything I want with no limits. Who could say no to that kind of winning? I’ve got to get a handle on this shit before I fall so far out of line I’ll never be able to walk straight again.