TheBillionaire's Touch(33)

 

She climaxed in a stormy sea of desire that nearly swept her away; the only thing anchoring her in place was her mesmerized gaze on Evan as he pulled his mouth from hers with a guttural, feral groan. He threw his head back, the cords of the muscles in his neck flexing and tiny beads of perspiration were trickling down his face as he found his own release.

 

In that single moment, as one, they splintered apart, and Randi knew she’d never forget exactly how Evan had looked when they did. Consumed by passion, he was a sensual, glorious sight that was worth remembering.

 

He only rested his weight on top of her for a moment before he lifted himself from her to get rid of the used condom.

 

She missed the feel of him the moment he left her. The scorching heat of his body against hers was sublime, and filled some of the dark, empty places that had resurfaced after her loss.

 

He returned even before she’d completely caught her breath, lifting her from the sofa and flopping into a recliner with her on his lap. She snuggled against him, getting drunk on the scent of Evan and sex. They were both damp with exertion, even though the storm was probably still raging outside the walls of his massive home. He stroked her hair like she was special to him, and she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

 

Her mind tried to berate her for what had just happened, but she pushed the negative thoughts from her brain. She refused to regret what she’d just done. Evan had filled some of the lonely places inside her, and made her body sing with sensation. She’d never had sex remotely as good as she’d just experienced, and she wasn’t going to hate herself for enjoying it so much with a man she didn’t even really like. Life was too short for those kinds of regrets. She was going to relish exactly what she had right now, right this moment, and to hell with the future.

 

“I have a problem,” Evan said remorsefully.

 

Randi giggled at his serious tone. She was starting to get used to his somber demeanor. She was starting to think that his personality wasn’t all arrogance, and that he sometimes said things seriously because he never had the opportunity to laugh. “I thought we just took care of your problem.”

 

He shook his head. “Not that. Another problem.”

 

“What?” she asked curiously, pulling back to look at his face.

 

His gaze met hers, and she noticed a slight, endearingly naughty twinkle in his eyes. “I think I’m starting to like you.”

 

His tone was morose, but Randi knew he was trying to tease her. His attempt was adorable and sweet, since she knew instinctively that what he was trying to do wasn’t easy for a man like Evan.

 

Randi burst out laughing and hugged him to her chest. She sobered and tried to mimic his serious tone, but knew that she failed miserably. “I think I like you, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 8

 

 

 

Dear S.,

 

I’m sorry I didn’t write earlier, but I lost power at my place. I had to come into town for a day or two until the storm passes. I live about ten miles out of town. I hope you’re safe and warm.

 

 

 

Dear M.,

 

I hope you’re okay. Do you have a friend to stay with in town?

 

 

 

Dear S.,

 

Not really a friend. Actually, I’m staying with the guy I was telling you about, the one you thought I should stay away from. Before you warn me away again, he’s not so bad. In fact, I think I like him. He was kind to me last night and took me into his home. I think maybe I misunderstood him.

 

 

 

Dear M.,

 

Then definitely don’t dump him. Maybe you should try to understand him a little better. And yes, I’m staying very warm. I met someone who helps chase away the cold.

 

 

 

Randi hesitated as she saw her pen pal’s answer. He met someone? How did she feel about that exactly? She cared a lot about her mysterious S., and she wanted him to be happy. She’d known all along that they’d never meet, and she couldn’t be selfish and wish him to be as miserably alone as she was, just so he could write to her forever.

 

 

 

Dear S.,

 

I’m happy for you. So I guess you won’t be alone on date nights anymore?

 

 

 

Dear M.,

 

Don’t know. It isn’t really date night yet.

 

 

 

Randi laughed out loud. It was only Monday.

 

 

 

Dear S.,

 

Here’s to hoping you won’t be writing to me on Friday. I hope she’s good enough for you.

 

 

 

Dear M.,

 

She’s way too good for me, actually.

 

So what about you? Are you going to be available on date nights in the future?