When I Was Yours (Page 39)
She stops. Her hand on the handle, she presses her forehead to the door.
For a second, I’m not sure what’s happening.
Then, I see her body tremble, and I hear a sniffle.
I’m moving toward her without a thought. Stopping, I’m only inches from her.
Seeing her like this, crying…it’s like a vise is around my chest, squeezing.
I want to touch her so badly. But I don’t.
Instead, I ball my hands into fists at my sides. “Evie?”
“It was never easy.” Her voice is a whisper.
My heart stills. “What wasn’t?”
She exhales a sad-sounding breath. “Leaving you. No part of that was ever easy.”
She shakes her head from side to side, her forehead still resting against the door.
“Talk to me,” I urge gently.
Frustration slams into me, but I somehow manage to control it. “Okay, so don’t talk to me about that. At least tell me why you’re crying.”
I hear her take another breath, and then she turns to face me.
The sight of the tears staining her cheeks wrecks me. I never could bear to see Evie cry.
Unable not to, I reach over and brush my fingers over her cheek, collecting her tears.
The feel of her skin is electric against mine. And I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath.
Her eyes lower, like it’s too hard to look at me. “I’m crying because I’m sad. And I’m sad because all we do when we see each other is fight and hurt one another. Mostly, I’m sad because I miss you. I’ve missed you for ten years, and I’m tired of missing you, tired of this hollow space in my chest where you used to be.”
When she lifts those whiskey eyes to mine, I see all the raw pain in them, and I know she’s telling me the truth about that.
Something changes in this moment, and things that seemed important to me before don’t seem so vital anymore.
But what is important are those words she just spoke.
I’ve waited ten years to hear her say those words, to say that she’s missed me.
Now, she has.
Maybe it’s because she said she missed me or because she’s wearing my shirt or because I’ve finally lost my damn fucking mind, or maybe it’s all those things combined, but I can’t stop myself.
I kiss her.
I kiss her fiercely. I kiss her with ten years of pent-up anger and need and longing and desperation.
And I know, in that second when my lips touch hers, that I won’t regret one moment of what’s about to happen. Even when it hurts so badly that I think I’ll regret it, wish it had never happened, I won’t.
There’s no hesitation as Evie kisses me back. It’s like she needs this as much as I do.
Her lips part on a moan, the sound vibrating all the way down to my cock, and all hell breaks loose.
Pure primal need to reclaim what is mine slams into me, and I’m helpless against it, helpless against her.
Lifting her, I slam her back against the wall. Her legs come up and wrap around my waist.
And it’s like no time has passed at all. Everything about her is the same—her taste, her scent, how she feels under my hands.
I want more. I want all of her, more than I should allow myself to have. But I have always been a sucker for the kind of pain that Evie provides.
And if I’m not inside her soon, I will actually fucking die.
The feel of her lips moving against mine, her tongue in my mouth…nothing has ever felt so good, so cathartic. It’s like coming home, like waking up from the worst kind of nightmare.
I know this is just a Band-Aid over the bullet hole she put in my chest, but I need it.
I need her.
I couldn’t stop now even if I tried. And I don’t want to. I really don’t.
Evie always has been my drug of choice.
History is pulling me right back in with its steely claws, and I’m more than happy to let it. I’m shackling myself to that motherfucker and letting it lead me straight into hell.
Our mouths are going at it. Lips, teeth, and tongues, the urgency and desperation of it all remind me of the inexperienced teenagers we used to be.
The memory of how amazing it felt to be inside her makes my cock even harder, and I was already as hard as stone.
Reaching over, I turn the lock on the door. Then, I grab the hem of her T-shirt, lifting it. She raises her arms, so I can get it over her head.
She’s wearing a pink lacy bra underneath.
I let out a groan at the sight. Pulling a strap down her shoulder, freeing her tit, I cup it with my hand, and I start kissing her again.
My tongue is deep in her mouth, licking. My hand is squeezing her tit, fingers pinching her nipple.
The moans escaping her, entering my mouth, are making me painfully harder.
I haven’t been this hard since I was last with her.
She’s pressing her hips against mine, trying to find the pressure she needs.
She doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what she needs.
I know Evie’s body better than I know my own.
Putting her to her feet, I undo her shorts. She kicks off her flip-flops. I pull her shorts down her legs, taking her panties with them. Then, I drop to my knees before her.
I glance up at her.
She looks needy and vulnerable. It turns me on like nothing before.
I slide my hand under her thigh, lifting it, and I hook it on my shoulder. Then, I put my mouth on her pussy.
She cries out my name, her hands gripping my hair. The sound drives me crazy. It drives me on.
She tastes exactly the same, feels exactly the same.
Fully aware of how she likes to be touched, I run my tongue up her center and then suck her clit into my mouth as I slip a finger inside her.
Mouth still on her, I look up at her. She’s staring down at me. Her eyes are glazed and filled with wonderment and lust.
Knowing I’m doing this to her, making her feel this way, has me feeling like a king.
She always could lift me up.
I know it’s only a temporary, fleeting feeling, and when it’s over, I’ll come crashing back down, but I’ll take what I can right now. I need this. I need her, more than I realized or wanted to admit to myself.
Closing my eyes, I get back to it, giving her what she needs and taking what I want in return.
I lick and suck her with my mouth and fuck her with my finger.
Moments later, she’s blowing apart against my mouth.
Pulling my finger from her, I run my tongue around her, licking her clean. Then, I suck my finger into my mouth, too.
Her eyes are staring down, watching my every movement.
She looks so fucking perfect. Her body is trembling with aftershocks of her orgasm, the orgasm I gave to her. Half of her bra is hanging down, exposing her perfect tit. Her pussy is glistening and throbbing because of me.
I have a flashback to the first time I made love to her.
She was perfect then.
She’s perfect now.
Evie will always be perfect.
But I know, underneath all that perfection, is a heart of ice.
Tears and words aside, Evie walked out on me without looking back once. And someone with a heart couldn’t do that.
It makes me want to break her. Fuck into her every ounce of pain that she made me feel, the pain I’ve carried with me every single day since she’s been gone, until she feels my pain like it’s her own.