Stay (3 page)

His fingertips trailed fire over my bare flesh, and my hips rose to move against him. He ground his hips against mine as I trailed my nails over his back. He nipped at my lips as he moved his fingers over the top of my panties, dipping beneath the edge and running his short nails over my skin.

My body screamed for him to continue when he pulled his hand away and moved down over the fabric. He cupped my pussy through the material and grazed slowly up, then down, and back up my slit with his finger, sending goosebumps running across my flesh. I moaned against his mouth as he moved the fabric aside and slipped a digit inside me, his thumb tracing lazy circles over my clit. He pushed another finger into me as he began to move in time with the rhythm our tongues set.

He moved his mouth over my neck, and I let out a cry as he bit down on my shoulder. My nails dug into his skin as I came, his name a breath on my lips. He unzipped the side of my sundress and pushed it up, helping me slip it off.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered as he unhooked my bra, tossed it to the side, and took a nipple in his mouth. He kneaded my breast as he kissed, licked, and bit his way down my body, paying special attention to my hips once he discovered the moan I made when he touched me there.

He kissed down my stomach to my pussy. He traced my lips with his tongue. In the back of my mind, I was glad we were already lying down because I knew my knees would’ve gone weak the second he parted my folds and ran his tongue over me.

“Goddamn, you taste good,” he said against me, “will you let me taste more? Hmm, Charlie? Can I eat your pretty cunt?”

If I hadn’t already been soaked, I definitely would’ve been with those words. Somehow, I knew he was a dirty talker. “Yes. God, yes.” I could hear myself almost begging, but I didn’t care. If he could get me off in just a few minutes with his hands, I could only imagine what he’d be able to do with his mouth. Or, God help me, his cock.

His tongue touched against my clit and I arched to meet him, hungry for more. He moved a hand to slip his fingers inside me as he gently sucked and licked, his tongue alternately twirling and flicking and sending electric shocks through me. He fucked me with his fingers and mouth, moaning as I tightened around him with my approaching climax. The sound of his voice and the vibration sent me spiraling over the edge.

My entire body still shuddered when he moved back up and kissed me. I could taste myself on his lips as I moved my hands down his chest, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt and shoving it off. I made even quicker work of his belt and the pants he wore. He kicked them to the side, and I was pleased to find he wasn’t wearing any underwear. I took his length into my hands, running my finger over the spongy tip.

I was torn between wanting to take him into my mouth—which would’ve required repositioning, since he was still on top of me—and being desperate to have him inside me. I stroked him in a slow, steady rhythm and watched his eyes go cloudy. He groaned my name as his fingers dug into my hips.

I moved my hands to grip either side of his waist and slowly rubbed myself against him, teasing us both and coating his cock with my cream. I scraped my teeth against his shoulder, nipping at his collarbone as I pumped my hips against his. He looked into my eyes as I moved so his dick pressed against my entrance.

I waited for that first thrust. And I waited. He didn’t move, although I could feel the rest of his body shaking against mine.

I angled my hips and moved a little so the head of his cock slipped inside me, and then pulled away, giving him the chance to take control. He made a humming growl in his chest as he reached to the floor, where his pants lay. My heart jolted a little in fear he was going to get up and leave, but relaxed as I watched him frantically pull a little foil packet from his pocket, mentally giving myself a smack on the head for being so overcome with lust I nearly forgot a damn condom. He unwrapped our protection and slid it on, then maneuvered himself against me.

When he didn’t push into me immediately, I looked up and said quietly, my voice hoarse, “I want you, Evan.”

He thrust inside me and my head fell back against the couch as the rest of my body arched farther against his, straining to be as close to him as possible. He began to move, slowly at first, his eyes locked onto mine.

Evan’s fingers dug into the side of my hip as he appeared to fight for control, to go slow and make our first—only?—time romantic and sweet. I could feel every ridge of his cock as he moved within me. Saw every straining muscle as he battled his urge to move faster, fuck me harder.

I angled my hips toward him as he pulled one of my knees up, sinking deeper. “Feels so fucking good,” I whimpered, “do it again. Just like that.”

He withdrew until just the tip remained within me, then slammed back in to the base, his pelvis bumping against mine.

My hands glided over the muscles of his back; my other leg lifted to lock around his waist as he increased his pace.

“Harder,” I begged, digging my nails deeper into his flesh as his hips pistoned, a low growl in his throat, “Oh God, oh yes, that’s it. Fuck me harder, Evan.”

He moved one of his hands to cup the back of my head, and he threaded his fingers through my hair, grabbing it from underneath the way I like it. He pulled just enough to make me move my head, and I keened with excitement and pleasure. He leaned down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, scraping his teeth over it.

I bucked against him in response, my breath coming in shallow pants and moans. He moved to my other nipple and I let out a low groan. So close.

As I was getting ready to come and undoubtedly have the best orgasm of my life, he stopped moving.

“Please.”

He thrust into me with slow, almost leisurely strokes. My eyes rolled into the back of my head when he pulled all the way out and slowly—painfully slowly—pushed back in.

I started murmuring in Spanish. Endearments. Pleading. Promises. His wicked grin at my last suggestion told me he knew enough gutter Spanish that he understood. When he increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, I thanked every deity I could think of as my entire body vibrated in pleasure.

My cries were more desperate, my nails nearly drawing blood as I scraped them over his already raw back. He leaned down and bit my collarbone, hard, as he thrust harder, deeper. My orgasm slammed crashed over me and I sobbed his name as I tightened around him. My climax triggered his, and I heard him moan as he buried his face in my hair, his entire body shuddering.

He collapsed on top of me. We both lay there for a minute, panting and unable to move.

“Holy shit,” I finally managed.

A self-satisfied grin was on his face. “Definitely.” He pressed a kiss to my lips, “Are you okay?”

“More than.” I felt like purring.

“Good. I’m glad…me too.”

I felt him start to harden inside me. My eyes widened. “Again? Already?”

He smiled down at me as he reached to remove the condom and grabbed another from his pocket, “That was round one, beautiful. Where’s your bedroom?”

Later that night, we lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, staring at the ceiling. At least, I was pretty sure it was the ceiling. I might’ve gone blind after the last orgasm for a minute or two.

This should’ve been the part where I climbed out of bed and tossed a witty remark over my shoulder, thanking Evan for all the orgasms and I’d be sure to call him the next time I made it out to his neck of the woods. Realistically, this couldn’t go anywhere. He lived in Tampa, I lived in Houston. World famous wrestler, local newspaper reporter. We were from two entirely different worlds.

Instead, I rolled over and snuggled into his arms when he pulled me toward him. “Stay the night?”

He sleepily kissed the top of my head. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Two

I was dreaming of tall, tattooed men with dark hair, kind eyes, and muscles for days when the stupid,
stupid
sun filtered through my window. I attempted to roll away from the offending light and drift back into dreamland, but strong arms wrapped around me and tightened around my waist, bringing me against a very large, very hard body. My eyes flew open and I caught a glimpse of distinctive tribal markings on a muscular bicep.

I lay there, trying to remain still so I wouldn’t wake him. But when he stirred against me, I knew it was already too late. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I stared at the Escher print that inspired my favorite scene in
Labyrinth
on the wall, wondering how the hell to proceed from here. I hadn’t woken up next to a man in over two years. To say I was out of practice was like saying Godzilla was a little lizard.

Evan snuggled closer to me and moved my hair so he could kiss my shoulder. When he moved to my neck, my eyes widened, and I clamped my mouth shut.

Oh God, morning breath! I can’t let him kiss me. Or roll over and talk to him. How do I wiggle out of bed to go brush my teeth without being obvious?

“Now, you don’t want to make me feel self-conscious, do you?” I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

My stomach jumped into my throat. “Did I say that out loud?”

He nodded against my shoulder before turning me onto my back. Seemingly unconcerned we were both naked, he moved the blankets off us and straddled my waist, leaning on his knees so he wouldn’t crush me. Looking up at him bathed in sunlight, I noticed his brown eyes had little flecks of green.

“Charlie, I’m not worried about your morning breath. Or mine, for that matter. I’d rather focus on kissing the beautiful woman who spent last night in my arms.” Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “And under me.” Another kiss to my neck, just below my ear. “On top of me.” He trailed his tongue down my neck and over my chest before kissing between my breasts and moving back up to claim my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.

My hands found their way into his hair as he fucked my mouth with his tongue. I loved the way the short locks felt in my fingers—so silky, so soft. So opposite the big, bad persona he showed on TV every week.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, and I no longer cared what my breath smelled like, since all I tasted was Evan.

Rolling back to his side of the bed, he knocked his head against my wooden headboard. I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he rubbed the back of his tender skull. “Aren’t you supposed to be the big, tough wrestler who gets knocked around every week?”

Evan glared over at me in what I’d seen as his “Beast” expression in my research before meeting him for the interview. “What do you mean
who gets knocked around
? Don’t you know I’m the one who does the ass kicking in the ring?”

The bed creaked as he sat up and started tickling me, and I temporarily feared for the safety of my bedframe. My arms flailed out trying to knock his hands away, but his strength far outmatched mine, and my giggles shook my body so hard any attempt at gaining purchase on the mattress failed.

“Stop! Please!” I gasped between bouts of laughter.

“Admit I’m king of the ring, and I’ll stop.”

I let out a high-pitched noise I refused to admit sounded anything like a squeal. “Fine, fine. You’re king of the ring!”

Evan grinned as he settled back onto the pillows—the only part of the bed that survived the tickle assault unscathed. The beautiful, and expensive, white down comforter lay on the floor in a crumpled heap. My eight hundred-thread count sheets—a present from my mom when I graduated college—looked like someone had jammed them in a corner and left them for a year, with all the wrinkles now firmly imprinted on them.

Of course, the sheets had probably been my fault with how much I’d kicked and thrashed while Evan tickled me.

Still, having him in my bed, seeing his olive skin against my cream-colored linens, remembering the things he’d done to me—with me—in that very spot…my fingertips tingled with the need to touch.

“What time is it?” Evan asked, looking around the room, probably for a clock.

The alarm behind him on the headboard read 7:14. Entirely too goddamn early to be awake on a Saturday, even if I didn’t mind the reason for being up. I pointed to the clock and told him the time, realizing he’d probably have to get going soon. My research indicated wrestlers were on the road the majority of the year, traveling from show to show around the world and keeping fans happy.

I suddenly wondered if I was one of those fans—despite never having watched an episode in my life—and if all his, “Aw shucks, I’m such a nice guy” stuff was purely to get me in bed—check—and make sure he walked away with a sterling reputation.

If Mel were here, she probably would’ve slapped me in the face. She’d been trying to push me back into the dating pool for well over a year, and I’d resisted—loudly and with several four-letter words—at every turn.

But then, if Mel
had
been there, it would’ve been a mighty awkward situation, given Evan’s and my severe case of nudity.

An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I lay there next to him, letting my breathing calm down as Evan reached over to play with the ends of my hair that fell across his pillow.

“So…” I imagined if we were standing, I’d shuffle my feet uncomfortably as I fiddled with my cell phone or purse or whatever was handy. “I guess you need to head out soon?”

His lips twitched into a sexy half grin that made me want to climb on and ride him all over again. “Trying to get rid of me?”

My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped. So flattering, especially with my awesome morning breath, but he’d caught me off guard. “Um…huh?” Clearly, I was on my
A
-game.
I really should have a pot of coffee programmed to brew before I wake up. Right next to my bed.

Hard muscles flexed and drew my eyes as he rolled on his side to face me. I wanted to trace every inch of his intricately tattooed skin. With my tongue.
Oh wait, I did that already.

“I asked if you’re trying to get rid of me. I don’t usually pull a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Even on the road.” Evan shrugged, his cheeks pinking up as much as his olive skin could. “I’m not that kind of guy. Cliché, I know. But I’m not.”

My eyes burned with the urge to roll and the strength it took to resist.
Next thing he’ll be telling me he saves puppies on the weekends and feeds the homeless in a soup kitchen he finances and staffs, himself.
Sitting up in the bed, I drew my knees to my chest. “I don’t usually do this, either. But look, I get it. You’re famous. You’re on the road a good majority of the year. This was fun, and I’d love to do it again—”

And again, and again, and again. The look on his face said he’d like to, as well.

“—but I know the playbook here. We’ll exchange numbers and might even text a few times, but one of us will start getting busier, and we won’t have time to talk anymore. Then one day…” I put my fingers to my mouth and blew like there was a puff of smoke in my hands. “Poof, no more texts.”

Evan cocked his head to one side and gave me a quizzical look. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Kevin Spacey.” He winked when I smiled. He’d gotten my
Usual Suspects
reference. “Oh that’s right—you don’t. So, why don’t you let me take you to breakfast and give me a chance? You might even find you like me just as much out of bed as you do in.”

You’re too good to be true.

A dimple appeared in his right cheek as he smiled wide and shrugged. “Probably, but I’m a hungry guy who’s too good to be true. So, will you go to breakfast with me or do I have to go raid your kitchen?”

“Oh shit, I said that out loud.” The back of
my
head hit the headboard with a thud. “I don’t have a mental filter without coffee. As for you stepping foot in my kitchen…” My knees popped when I jumped off the too-tall bed. At some point, I’d buy a new one or have this one lowered, but it’d have to wait until I got a steadier job than freelancing for the newspaper. “Not going to happen. Ever.”

With that, I turned and padded into the bathroom to turn the water on for a shower.

“Care for some company?” he called after me.

“As tempting as that thought is,” I said as I pulled an extra towel from the closet, “I don’t know if I can handle another round yet. It’s a wonder I can walk at all at this point.” I glanced back at him and winked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I promise. A shower.” He climbed off the bed held his hand out to me. “Please?”

I linked my fingers with his, “How can I refuse such a request?”

Of course, it wasn’t just a shower, but I couldn’t say I minded. Since all he had were the clothes he wore last night, I loaned him one of my larger T-shirts to wear with his slacks. The fabric stretched across his broad chest, showing off his delicious muscles and making my mouth water. I pulled on a tank top and a short denim skirt, and then I convinced him to let me cook for him so I could show off my culinary skills.

I whipped up eggs, bacon, and biscuits from scratch, humming and dancing around my little kitchen like a pro. Or maybe a lunatic. Okay fine, both. Sitting at the dining table, we ate like we’d both been starved for the past week.

“What are your plans for today? Do you wanna go catch a movie or something?”

“I have no idea what’s playing now, but sure.”

He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, “Great. Why don’t you check the show times and pick out what you want to see. Text me the information—I don’t know if I’ll be in an interview or not—and I’ll pick you up around…say, two hours before show time? So we can grab something to eat before… I mean, if you want.”

“Sounds perfect,” I stood to take my plate to the sink and rinse it off before sticking it in the dishwasher.

He got up as I ran the other tableware under the water and set his plate on the counter next to the sink, “Why don’t you let me take care of the dishes?”

“It’s okay.”

He gently pushed me aside, “You did the cooking. I should do the cleaning, at least.”

I almost jumped up and down. I don’t have to do the dishes for once? Thank you God! “That’s very nice of you.”
Like I’m going to argue.

I did my hair while he loaded the dishwasher and set it to run. He came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed, watching as I ran the flatiron through my tresses and pulled it half back so my bangs weren’t in my eyes. We talked about my aversion to washing dishes and his to laundry. He laughed when I told him I’d rather lick the bottom of someone’s foot than wash dishes.

“Okay, I’ll do the dishes if you do the laundry.”

“Yeah, with all the time you’re going to be in Houston, right?” I set my flatiron down and grabbed my hair spray from the cabinet. My hair tends to poof if I don’t coat it with hairspray and comb through it with a fine-toothed brush.

“Well, I’ll be here quite a bit throughout the next month. The boss has us all doing promotional work, and since I’m such a big draw, I’ll be out here more often than most.”

“Not full of yourself at all, are you?” I smirked and turned out the bathroom light as I walked back into the bedroom.

He shrugged. “That’s what the boss man told me. I’ll fly out for house shows and tapings, maybe a few appearances in other cities, but for the most part, I’m here in Houston until October.”

“Oh. Well, that’ll be nice.”

“I think so. It’ll give me some time to get to know you.”

I looked up from digging around in my sock drawer. “Huh?”
God, I’m so eloquent.

“I don’t do one night stands.”

“You don’t have to say that, Evan. This was fun. And while it’d be fun again, we both know it’s not likely we’ll be in the same location long enough to sustain a relationship. We’re both constantly on the road. I’m a freelance journalist; I can be sent anywhere at any time.”

The look on his face stunned me. Was he actually hurt? “I like you, Charlotte. We’ve had a great time together, and despite the distance, I think we could be friends…maybe even more.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I…don’t know how to approach this. I haven’t had anything resembling a relationship—or whatever you want to call it—in a long time. Guess I’m out of practice.”

He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and settling me between his legs before nuzzling the side of my neck. “Guess we’ll have to get you back into shape.”

***

Beep boop beep! Beep boop beep!
The familiar, if annoying, Skype ringtone sounded from my computer across the room. Grabbing my wine glass, I climbed off my comfy couch and made my way over to answer the call. Clicking the little green phone on screen, I turned and walked back to the coffee table.

“Charlie?” Evan’s voice filtered through my speakers, tinny and a little fuzzy, but still somehow managing to send shivers down my spine.