The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (39 page)

I move my hands from his neck to his hair, playfully pulling and twisting the strands as he closes his eyes, enjoying my touch as much as I am.  His hands travel from my waist to my backside, pulling me close, as he leans in for a kiss.  I moan into his mouth, with the heat between us building and my desire to tear his clothes off growing exponentially. 

Our tongues engage in a slow dance while his hands move up my back and under my loose top.  The skin-to-skin contact is almost too much.  I feel naked in a room full of people. If I close my eyes, I can imagine we’re home in private.  Our breathing becomes more rapid and I can tell he’s every bit as turned on as I am.

I’m snapped back to the present by a nudge from Auggie. He hollers into my ear, “I’m outta here, kitten.  I have an early call in the morning.”

I release Evan and give Auggie a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks for coming out with us tonight.  Did you have fun?”  I really hope he did.

“It was a blast.  You guys are great.  See you at home?”

“Yeah, I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.  Love ya!”

Auggie slips through the crowd and makes his way to the exit.  I’m so glad he had fun.

The song changes, and now “Rosalita” is playing, an exuberant showstopper that every true Bruce fan knows word for word.  Everyone is singing along, throwing their hands in the air and dancing.  In the middle of the song, the rest of our dinner party is with us on the dance floor.  Evan and I are surrounded on all sides by both friends and strangers.  Hands are waving in the air, and fists are pumping to the beat, while fans of every age sing along chord by chord.  There’s not enough room to actually dance, but most of us are finding our own rhythm as we move along with the tempo. 

Evan is directly behind me, always staying close and maintaining our unbroken link. I take a few steps back to feel the perfection of his tight body against mine.  Evan places both hands around my waist, locking his wrists around my belly, and presses me against him.  Instinctively, I lean back, rest my head on his chest and lay my hands on top of his.  He brushes my hair to the side and nibbles on my ear.  No one pays any attention to us, we are just two people in a mass, enjoying the music.

None of us are willing to give up our spots on the dance floor, despite the growing crowd.  “Glory Days” is next in the set, and the dance floor explodes.  Everyone, including Evan and me, is scream-singing the words right along with the band.  As I sing, I can feel all my troubles floating away with each note that leaves my body.

One of Bruce’s slower, older songs, “I Wanna Be With You” is next up.  Evan turns towards me and takes me into his arms, arms that make me feel protected and cherished.  He takes my right hand into his and laces our fingers together.  He holds our hands up against his chest, and I can feel his heart beating.  He places his other hand on my hip and I place mine on his.  Together, we sway and move to the music.  I don’t know who taught Evan how to dance, but I must find out and write them a thank you letter.  He moves with such grace and agility. 

I look up into his dazzling blue eyes.  I still can’t believe this impossibly gorgeous man is in love with me.  Love isn’t strong enough a word to describe how I feel about him.  I whisper three words to Evan, “Take me home.”

Barking up the Wrong Tree

W
e arrive at my house, and I slip into my security routine.  I set the alarm, check the back door, and scan the house.  All is quiet and dark.  Auggie must be asleep in bed, there’s not a peep coming from his room.

Evan is in my room, stripping down to his boxers and slipping into my bed.  He has his back to me, and I can’t help but admire the frame of this incredible man.  The broad width of his shoulders contrasted with the lean cut of his waist make me weak in the knees.  His strength and power are only surpassed by his kindness and compassion. 

His keys, wallet, and watch are lying on my dresser.  I remove my jewelry and watch and place them beside his.  It’s hard to believe that less than one week ago, I was contemplating never seeing him again.  Now, he’s in my every waking thought and at the heart of every decision I make.

I slip out of my clothes, leaving just my matching bra and panties and join Evan in bed.  Evan’s open arm is waiting for me to snuggle up to him.  He pulls the covers up, and I let out a giggle.  He looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Sorry, baby.  It’s just that with Auggie down the hall, I feel like a teenager sneaking a boy into my room.  I feel naughty,” I confess.

I wait for a response.  No words are spoken, but none need to be.  He looks at me with a desire that I know all too well.  He pulls me to him and presses his lips against mine.  I feel him hardening against me as a soft moan escapes from my lips.  All it takes is the slightest movement of his hips for me to instinctively open up my thighs.

“Evan, stop.  We shouldn’t,” I plea.

Slowly, Evan rolls on top of me, pinning me beneath him.  He gazes down at me and I can feel my temperature rise as a shot of electricity pulses between my legs.

“You’re right.  Good night, my love.  I’ll leave you alone now,” he teases as he kisses behind my ear, nibbling and sucking down my neck to my chin.  Reflexively, I arch my neck to give him greater access.  My body betrays me.  Another thrust of his hips has me drenched with desire.

Abruptly, he rolls off me onto his back, resting his arms behind his head.  “Sleep tight,” he mutters.  A salacious grin sweeps across his face because he knows what he does to me.  He knows that when it comes to him, I have no will power. 

I am entirely too turned on right now to stop.  My hand sweeps across his pecs, relishing in the feel of his hard body.  I allow my lips to explore his abs, moving up his chest, gently biting and nipping on his shoulders.  By the time I reach his mouth, I’m on top of him.  Evan wraps his arms around me, and our bodies move and grind together in a familiar rhythm.

When I look down, he is staring up at me with a dark, intense look in his big blue eyes.  His kiss is deep and possessive, demanding that I give myself to him.  I stop protesting and surrender to my own desires.

He has been seducing me all night on the dance floor.  The entire night has led to this moment.  To deny it would be futile.  He rips off his boxers, I tear off my panties and in the blink of an eye, he’s inside me.  God, I love this man. 

T
he next morning, Evan wakes me up and kisses me good-bye.  He’s got to be in the city by ten, and he needs to get home and shower.  He promises to text and call me whenever he can.  There’s no reason for me to get up right away, so I roll over and fall back asleep, dreaming about beach houses and twisted ankles.

When I finally get up, Auggie is already home.  I find him sitting in the kitchen sipping a latte from our favorite coffee shop.

“Good morning, Jepetto.  Or is it good afternoon?” he teases.

“Nope, not quite noon yet.  Technically, it’s still morning.  No more work today, Auggie?”  I’m pleasantly surprised to see him home at this hour.  We haven’t spent much time together in the last week.  I really do miss him.

“Did Evan make it to his interview on time?” he asks.

“Yeah, I got a call from him a couple of hours ago.”

“Good, I’m glad.”  Without looking up at me, Auggie goes on.  “He’s a good guy, Jette. I’m so sorry about all the drama I caused you two last week.  It’s really been bothering me.  If I just kept my big fat mouth shut, I’m pretty sure Evan would have told you everything himself.”

I walk over and wrap my arms around him.  “Please don’t.  I love you for it.  Evan should have told me sooner.  Who knows what would have happened, anyway.  Everything worked out just fine.”  He returns my hug, but I can sense he’s holding back.

“Auggie, what’s wrong?”  He’s not his usual happy self.  “Is it Brandon?” I ask.

“Yes. I mean no.  Well, sort of.  Shit.”

“Auggie, what is it?  You can tell me anything, you know.”

“Oh, Jette, I know I
can
, but I just don’t know if I
should
,” he says.

“Just spill.  If I can help you, I will.  If something is wrong, we can fix it.  What’s going on?”  Now I’m starting to worry.

“It’s not about me, it’s about you.  Jette, these things that are happening to you frighten me,” he confesses.  “Last night, I saw something that struck a chord with me.  I was getting a really weird vibe from someone.”

“I don’t understand.  What happened?  Did somebody say something to you last night?”

“Nothing happened, it’s more of a feeling, an impression.  That’s why I don’t want to tell you.  I could be wrong.”

“But you don’t think you are, do you?” I ask him.

“No, I don’t.  So I called Brandon last night, just to get an independent perspective.”

“And?”

“He told me to step back and look at things from a factual point of view.  Whoever is doing this knows you.  It’s not just a random person who saw you at the bar.  He really knows you.  He knows your name, what car you drive, where you live, what your phone number is, and even what your e-mail address is.  It’s someone who knows you, very well.”

“OK, you have my attention, what else have you pieced together?”

“Well, when you sit down and think about it, ask yourself, what does your stalker want from you?” he asks.

“Nothing.  What do you mean?”

“Well, from what I’ve read online, the most common type of stalker is someone who has an irrational and inappropriate infatuation with their victim.  They often think the victim knows them intimately.  They confess their love in strange and unacceptable ways and sometimes even create an imaginary loving relationship.”

“That doesn’t sound like my stalker.  My stalker doesn’t love me, he seems to hate me, with a passion.” 

“Exactly, your stalker wants to punish you and make you suffer.  I think it’s someone you’ve hurt, either on purpose or unintentionally.  The goal seems to be to frighten you and maintain power over you and your emotions.”  Auggie is making sense.   A lot of sense.

“You said someone was giving off strange vibes last night and got you thinking.  Who is it Auggie?”  My stomach is in knots.  Everything Auggie has said so far seems credible.  But how could it possibly be someone I know?

“Jette, you had your eyes on Evan all night.  You knew where he was and what he was doing each and every moment.  There was someone there who watched your every movement, too.  His eyes never left you for very long.  Do you have any idea who I’m talking about?”

“Auggie, you don’t mean to tell me ... you don’t suspect ... you can’t possibly believe ... that
Evan
would do those things!  You’re insane!  He loves me!”  I shout.  It’s not possible.

“Juliette Evangeline Fletcher, calm down and stop yelling at me.  Evan is completely in love with you and would take a bullet for you.  No, I most certainly do
NOT
believe it was Evan.  Think.  Think.  Is there someone
else
who might have romantic feelings for you that feels rejected and resentful?”

No way.  “I see where you’re going with this, Aug, and you’re wrong. Absolutely wrong!  It’s
not
!  It
can’t
be.  Derek would never...” 

“I hope I am wrong.  But Jette, you didn’t see the way he watched you last night.  He’s got it bad.”

“That doesn’t mean he’d try to hurt me, Auggie.”  I just don’t believe it.

“Are you sure?  What do you really know about him?  I asked around, and no one I know has ever heard of him.  Where did he grow up?  Where is his family?  Are there any former girlfriends?  He doesn’t even have a Facebook page.  Can
you
answer any of these questions?  Because I can’t.”

“Listen, Auggie, I know him well enough to know that this isn’t possible.  I’ve always known that he had feelings for me and for a little while, I thought I might have feelings for him, too.  But we’re friends.  Friends don’t do this to each other.”

“OK, Jette, you’re probably right.  Just keep your eyes open, promise?”