“But then when you texted me back that you were alive … ” His voice grew wooden. “I became angry. I told you how Katrin treated me. Like a second-class citizen in my own marriage. I was never considered, never consulted or shown respect. Her communication skills were total garbage—and that’s coming from me, a man, and we’re not known for our outstanding communicating abilities. And that’s exactly how I felt you were treating me. Like I wasn’t worth a proper phone call, or at the very least a text message apologizing for bailing. Like I was an afterthought.”
Totally understandable. If the shoe was on the other foot, she would probably feel that way too.
“I’m a good man, Eva. I’m not like Todd. Not at all. You’re a woman worth waiting for, but I won’t wait around forever, and certainly not so that I can just be walked all over. Dogs are great, but I’m nobody’s lapdog.” The sudden flare of his nostrils and narrowing of his eyes said that he had indeed been upset. She appreciated the fact that he had cooled down before coming over. Todd would not have shown such courtesy.
Her throat grew painfully tight as she fought back the urge to cry. She nodded stiffly. “I know what I did was wrong. Celeste said the same thing. So did my therapist. And I knew as I was doing it that I was wrong. I’m truly sorry for making you feel like you don’t matter, because you do.” She cupped his face with both hands and brought her head closer to his until their noses were only an inch a part. “You matter a lot, Scott. So much that it scares me a little. We haven’t known each other that long, and yet … ”
“You feel this pull.”
“Yeah, I feel this pull.”
“Me too.” His hands fell to the backs of hers as they rested on his cheeks. “We can take this as slow as you need to, Eva. I don’t want to push.”
“I don’t want to go too slow.” A cheeky smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
His own wily grin made her insides get hot and turn to goo.
“What are we going to do about Todd though?”
A warm puff of air from his nose landed on her top lip. His dark eyes held a mix of confusion and sadness. He pulled away from her and pushed his hand into his freshly cut hair. “I have no idea. I will probably lose my job if I try to ditch him.” He shook his head before scrubbing his hand down it, pulling on his beard and chin. She found his hand and laced her fingers with his. He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “I’ll have a chat with my boss in the morning and say that there is a conflict of interest surrounding Fletcher Holdings. Maybe he’ll just give Todd to another executive.”
If only things were that easy.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, the intensity of the emotions she felt once again making her throat feel clogged and her chin tremble. With her free hand, she gripped the front of his shirt, her eyes now pleading with him. “I never meant to hurt you or worry you. I just … ” Her fist tightened. “Todd is a trigger for me. I’m not sure he ever won’t be. Not until he’s dead, anyway.”
Which was probably going to be never, because the man wasn’t human, and he never got sick. Not even a sore throat or the sniffles. Meanwhile it seemed like she and the boys came down with one plague or another every six weeks or so.
“But I should have called you, and I’m sorry.”
“Water under the bridge, baby. Just shoot me a text next time, okay? Don’t make me worry. My imagination runs rampant when I’m worried. I may be a happy-go-lucky guy on the outside, but inside”—he pointed to his head—“my imagination always goes to the worst—sometimes completely illogical—case scenario.”
Her laugh felt forced, but being so close to Scott, feeling his warmth and safety surround her loosened all the muscles of her body, and eventually she chuckled freely. “I promise.”
“Good.” Unlinking their hands, he gripped her by the waist and flipped her around until she was straddling him in the chair. A squeak darted from her throat when she was roughly plopped back down in his lap and over a rather noticeable bulge. “Now, new topic. Better topic. Sexy topic.” His grin made the air whoosh from her lungs. “I had plans for us, Ms. Marchand. Big, naked, dirty plans. I was forced to do those plans on my own.”
Her eyebrows lifted. The thought of Scott touching himself was crazy-sexy, his big hand wrapped around his impressive length, sliding back and forth until hot, white cum shot from the center. She wet her bottom lip.
“Do you know how hard it is to lick chocolate off your own stomach?” he asked.
Her fantasy exploded, and her vision refocused on his face. He was grinning like an idiot. A handsome, sexy idiot.
“You … chocolate?” she breathed, well, more like gulped.
“Ah, glad you’re back. Your face went all blank for a second, and I thought you were either in a spontaneous coma or having some kind of silent female hysteria.”
Her hands landed on his shoulders, and she steadied herself, locking her gaze with his. “Just imagining you taking care of business, that’s all. It was hot.” She lunged out and snagged his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging just enough to make him growl beneath her.
“Another time,” he murmured, reclaiming his lip. “And we’ll definitely have to incorporate chocolate another time too.”
A pout pulled the corners of her mouth down. But not for long. That pout quickly turned into a gasp of surprise when she found herself—actually both of them—on the move. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her thighs on his hips as he stood up from the chair and walked them both over to the larger chair that had the overhead hairdryer above it.
He sat down but set her on her feet beforehand. “You owe me,” he murmured, his fingers hooking into the belt loops of her denim capris. “I’m a forgiving man, but I’ll be a more forgiving man if I get to see some skin.” His eyebrows bobbed playfully. “Catch my drift?”
With an eye roll and a smirk, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and made to pull it over her head, but his hands on her stopped her.
“Let me. It’ll be like unwrapping a present.”
Her nipples peaked beneath the thin fabric of her bra, and her mouth grew dry. She released her shirt and allowed him to slowly ease it over her head, his lips tracing a path of warm, wet heat over her lower stomach as the fabric left her skin.
Goosebumps chased his lips, and her breathing grew more and more ragged. His tongue now joined the party, and when he dipped it into her belly button, she giggled and squirmed, but his strength held her in place.
Together, they shed her shirt. Now she stood in her pale blue bra and denim capris.
The auburn storm that swirled in his eyes dissolved any and all of her fears. This man wanted her—her, Eva Marchand. He demanded nothing from her but honesty, and that she could do. She could give him honesty and consideration. Never again would she let Scott think he was an afterthought with her. Because he couldn’t be further from such a thing. He was her first thought. When she went to bed at night and then again when she woke up in the morning, Scott was the first thing she thought of. He consumed her.
Long, strong fingers worked at the button and zipper of her jeans, the warm backs of his knuckles grazing her belly just enough to send hot zaps directly between her legs. With his help, she shimmied out of her pants and kicked them to the side. Now she was in her black cotton undies—thankfully not her laundry-day granny panties of yesterday—and her blue bra. Her underwear didn’t match, but at least they were clean and didn’t have any holes in them.