The Other P-Word(29)

When my skin turned pink, I finally stopped trying. I applied a liberal  amount of lotion, listening as the shower went on in his apartment.

I watched Buddy, the undomesticated cat, nibbling on Evan's offerings.  What was it about Evan Wright that drove me crazy with lust and more  importantly, why wasn't I giving into it?

Based on the numerous signals he'd given me, there was an obvious  attraction on both our parts, I was young and single. Why couldn't I be  impetuous too?

Then I remembered that girl at the bar, and all the other girls there.  That was the reason, and it was strong enough that I wouldn't yield. He  said sweet things to me, but I would be a fool to let myself believe in  them … in him … in us.

I paced the room wearing nothing but the most comfortable and hideous  pink terry cloth robe, decorated in obnoxious red strawberries. The  sound of his shower stopped abruptly. A careful girl like me could use a  few careless decisions in her life. I took a large swig of instant  courage … I mean wine.

Maybe I could fool the fortune cookie gods and actually have the passion without the purpose.





Chapter Fifteen





I padded over to his door, ready to negotiate. I'll play his game but on my terms.

Oh God, he wore the glasses … and very little else except for a pair of  black boxer briefs. All my composure chipped and cracked away, exposing  my vulnerabilities.

"Howdy, neighbor," Evan said, a head of damp hair smelling like fresh  soap. He hadn't even had the decency to shave. "What can I do you for?"  he asked as he leaned his brawny body against the doorframe.                       
       
           



       

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I waved with a limp hand in  reply. I'd imagined the full tattoo many times, but nothing prepared me  for the sight of its magnificence. It covered the left side of him, but  not in a linear way. More like a yin and yang symbol. In this case, the  yang curved in what looked like spiraling waves, covering the rippled  muscles of his waist. My gaze involuntarily shifted downward past the  snug fit of his undergarments, the bulge between his muscular legs right  down to his bare feet.

"You planning on coming in or you just gonna keep undressing me with your eyes?"

I shook my head and cleared my throat. "In all fairness, you're not wearing much to begin with."

He leaned toward me, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Then why the hell is it taking you so damn long?"

I walked past him, brushing his arm. His apartment was a carbon copy of  mine, except it had no pictures, colors, or warmth. It was as if he'd  never moved in. A double bed with an iron headboard took up one side. It  was covered in black sheets and stood against stark white walls, and  there was a battered chest of drawers on the other wall. A small glass  dining set and a large Papasan chair where his guitar lay made up the  rest of the room.

"Can we talk?"

He looked disappointed but nodded. "How drunk are you, Price?"

He closed the door and leaned against it. "I told all truths tonight.  I'm sober and sincere, Evan." Okay … a little drunk too. "But I wanted to  answer the question I passed on. The other night was the best sex I've  ever had. It was my first orgasm."

"Are you fucking with me?"

Not yet. "Nope."

"Did you come over to thank me?"

"Not exactly. I want more."

"Let me get the guitar."

I held my hand against his chest, but it was too solid and warm. "I don't want a monologue this time."

Judging from his grin, he got the reference I made to his song.

His tongue swiped across his bottom lip. "Let's dialogue then."

I took a step back. "I have some terms."

"Shoot."

"Can you sit?" I asked, because I needed him stationary-anything for a tiny bit of control.

I was hoping he'd sit in the chair but he chose the bed instead, putting  his elbows on his knees and waiting for me. I debated between  requesting he put on a shirt and demanding that he never wear one again.

"I can't handle it if you're with other girls while you're with me. Is that a problem for you?"

"Ordinarily it would be, but since I also have trouble with the thought of you and another dude, I'm gander."

"Gander?"

"Yeah, you're the goose and I'm the-"

"Gander, I get it. You sure?" I studied his face for any misgivings.

"Sure as shade on a sunless day."

I'd never heard the analogy but he sounded genuine. I loved the way he worded things. "Good."

"Anything else?"

Although the robe wasn't pretty, he skimmed over me, slowly pausing in  all the right places, his impatience apparent. That look made me drunker  than any bottle of wine could.

I fished out the folded paper from my pocket. "Here," I said, handing it  to him with a shaking hand. He stilled my hand with his before taking  it.

"What's this?" He unfolded it slowly.

"My STD test. I got one after … after Preston. Would you consider getting one?"

I was quiet while he looked it over. He folded it back up, creasing the  folds a few times with his fingers before handing it back to me. I  watched as he stood and walked to the other side of the room. He rifled  through a drawer for a moment before sauntering back to me with his own  piece of paper. "Already done. I was at the doctor's recently. I haven't  had sex since that day."

I skimmed it over, especially the date. The same day I'd run into him at  the café. He hadn't been with anyone since that day? I will not read  into this. "I'm on birth control but I think we should use condoms, just  in case."

"I agree. You got anything else for me?"                       
       
           



       

I sat on the bed this time, wringing my hands together. "I don't want to  feel like your booty call-someone you use when you need a warm body."  He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him, blurting out the  sentence. "I want it to feel real even if it's not and I want to cuddle  afterward. That's what I need."

He digested my words for a moment before bending toward me. The feel of  Evan's hands on each of my knees caused them to wobble. "I'm happy to  give that to you."

"Okay."

He tilted my chin toward him. "Don't you worry, Billie Marie Price. I aim to cuddle the fuck out of you."

I swallowed, pulling my robe tighter. "That's all I have. You have anything?"

He sighed and ambled toward the window. I tried not to leer at the  intricate ink marking the roped muscles of his back. He looked through  the open slats of the blinds. I wondered what could be so interesting  out there. "Only one thing. I got an opportunity to go on a European  tour with this band."

My heart dropped but I managed to catch it in time. My voice came out  squeaky, strained and too high-pitched for my own good. "Europe. That's  amazing, Evan. When will you leave?"

"Depends on when they want to start practicing. Probably around the time  the leaves turn. Here's the thing, Price … once I'm gone, I'm gone. No  prolonged goodbyes. No keeping in touch. I don't hold on to anything.  Can you handle it?"

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Don't give me the fucking speech, please. I'm not a stupid moth, Evan. I  won't get zapped by your fire or whatever other stupid analogy you have  for me. I get it."

His stride was purposeful and fast. Before I knew it, he fell to his  knees on the floor before me. "You are not a moth, Billie. You are the  butterfly. You carry yourself with dignity, grace and beauty in all  things. When I tell you this is all I have to offer you, I fully realize  that you deserve much more than I am capable of giving."

I sucked in a breath, letting the last shred of my guard slip with his statement. "It's enough for me."

"I'm relieved."

I held out my hand. He looked at it uncertainly.

"You wanna shake my hand, Price?"

"Would you rather high-five?"

Before I had a chance to even make the signal, he had me on my back, pressed against the mattress.

"What do you say we seal it with a kiss?"

"Yes." Yes. Yes. A million times yes.

I expected him to be rough but he wasn't. He placed his hands on either  side of my face and drew me in. His lips crushed mine with slow, soft  exploration. My body reacted to his touch, hyperaware of everything. The  solid mass of his weight. The warmth radiating from his skin. The  coiled muscles of his abs against my arm. The scruff of his stubble as  it grazed my skin. His hard erection alongside my hip. The taste of his  mouth as his kisses became more aggressive, leading with his tongue  before his mouth claimed mine.