Carys
I'M GOING TO BE sick.
Pressing my palm to my stomach, I take in a deep gulp of air, trying to steady my nerves. My insides are a quivering mess. The anxiety of being this close to Evan, having him within arm's reach, is overwhelming.
I'm vibrating with the intensity of our reunion ; it's physical, all around us. I'd forgotten what it was like with him. That's not true. I didn't forget a thing about him, not one damn thing, but I tried.
It's impossible to erase what it feels like to be this close to him. How our bodies come alive, like the other holds the rhythm to our hearts, the spark to our flame.
I've tried to block it out, but now, with Evan here, there's no denying it. As much as I should hate it, wish that I could hate him, I can't. I love him, even after all that he did, but that doesn't mean we have a future together or that I'm willing to give him a second chance.
I'm overwhelmingly glad to see that he's alive and well, breathing. The not-knowing was eating away at me and while I should be lashing out at him right now, I can't.
It was one thing to be brokenhearted because he left me, but it was another kind of hurt to wonder if he was dead or alive. Even if we can't be together, knowing he is in this world, safe, gives me comfort, and that's all I can think about right now. He's alive.
"Sweetness, I'm sorry." His smooth voice caresses my body.
Shivering, I bite my lower lip, wanting a distraction from the ache in my heart. I love the name he gave me, and I haven't heard it in years. Strangely, it hurts to now hear my nickname from his lips, reminding me of a time when he was mine and I was his.
"I'm sorry for the hell I put you through. I'm back and we're not over. We'll never be over."
His eyes shine in earnest, determination etching every feature, but it makes no difference. He made it clear to me we were at an end and I was not to wait for him. He practically ordered me to move on and said he would do the same. Evan, be careful what you wish for-I've moved on.
His strong, taut arm reaches out to me, his fingers attempting to touch me, and despite my body's instinct to lean in, I force myself to step away. It's unbearably difficult, but one stroke and I'd be done.
At thirty-five years old, he's aged somewhat. There are a few more crinkly lines around his eyes, but he's still insanely gorgeous. The ends of his unruly dark hair curl now that it's longer than when I last saw him, and it's definitely longer than the buzz cut he sported when in the Army.
He's also broader, bigger, if that's even possible. He's always been shredded. While in the military, he was taught that his body was a machine and exercise was as essential as breathing.
Standing with him in the tiny hallway, it feels smaller than normal and confirms that he still commands any space he occupies.
"Is that it?"
It's killing me to be cold, to push him away. My instinct is to forgive him and get back to loving him. That's all I've ever done where Evan's concerned. In fact, my earliest and fondest childhood memories are of him.
I've never told anyone, but truth be told, most of my memories are of Evan, not Ry, my own brother. I love Ry with all that I am, but it's Evan who captured my heart from as young as I can remember, and he's never given it back.
I want it back, dammit.
"No, that's not it." He smirks, implying he sees through my carefully constructed veneer of indifference. That's the thing-he knows me, even with these years apart. "We've got to talk. I have way more to say to you."
"Well, I don't want to. Not right now. I want you to leave."
Without waiting for a response, I turn toward the kitchen, and his large hands grasp my waist. I gasp at our contact, not anticipating his touch that wallops my insides and throws me off balance.
Being in his arms reminds me of our past, all the times we were close, intimate. The memories mentally beat me black and blue, bruising my heart with all I've longed for but feared I'd never have again.
Before I'm able to react or form a coherent thought, he smoothly lifts me onto the counter. Ensnaring my wrists in one of his large hands, he pries my legs open and wedges himself in between. Shit. Evan's take-charge attitude causes my stomach to churn and my heart to hammer as my nerve endings sizzle and overwhelm my senses.
"Listen to me." His voice is gruff as he leans in close, our lips almost kissing.
With his warm, minty breath stealing mine, his eyes twinkle with the playfulness and compassion I've missed so much. His heady masculine scent sparks my arousal, and my body's betrayal infuriates me as I tighten my legs around his waist.
His lips widen into a shit-eating grin, as I continue to clench around his body while he thrusts himself into the apex of my thighs. My eyes widen and my mouth opens as his hard bulge rubs where I want him the most, but shouldn't.