She wraps her tiny hand around my girth, thumb gliding over my wet crown once, then twice before she puts on the condom. Then she inches up, pressing my tip to her warm entrance.
“Fuuuck, Eva.”
She slowly sinks onto me, pausing to give her body time to stretch. My dick pulses, going deep inside her, and I could cry.
“You feel so fucking good,” I moan, eyes rolling back into my head.
Between her swivels and strokes, I tug at her hair, wrapping it around my fist and bringing her face to mine.
“Eva, you were made for me.” I kiss her thoroughly, thrusting upward to punctuate my meaning, working myself deeper inside of her. “A perfect fucking fit.”
Our kisses shift and deepen as she rides me, and we pick up pace. Both of us chasing, clenching, and soaring as we cry out each other’s names.
A wave of emotion crashes over me. I shatter, spilling inside of her. She holds my gaze and I pull her to me, into another deep, soul-stealing kiss.
We clean up and get back into bed. My eyes fall shut, and the warmth of her breath against my neck comforts me, lulling me to sleep. I drift into a deep dream where Eva and I were always together and always would be.
With a towel around my waist, I saunter into the bedroom where I’d left Eva sleeping and find her sprawled on the bed in leggings and a blouse.
Her legs are at a comfortable distance apart, arms to her sides, palms up, and her face is…her face is as serene as the sky, cloudless and blue on a bright, sunny day.
If her chest wasn’t rising and falling with each breath, or her dark lashes lightly fluttering once in a while, I’d think she was dead.
Slowly, her fingers and then her toes start to move. She wiggles them and then her eyes blink open. She rolls to one side of the bed, gaze landing on me, and she smiles.
“Good morning.” Her fingers loosely comb through her gorgeous hair, and she straightens her clothes.
“Hey, you okay?” I push back a wet strand falling onto my forehead.
“Yes, much better now. I just needed some calm.” She comes to me and plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Ah, I’m okay.” I scratch at the back of my neck, wanting to ask but unsure if I should.
“Are you sure?” She bends her head to the side.
“Would you…ah, would you mind teaching me that?” I point to the bed where she just lay.
“To meditate?”
“Yeah. Is that what you were doing?” She nods, and I stroll over to my clothes, dropping the towel. “Is it hard? It just seems like something I could benefit from. Every time you do it, you’re even calmer than before, if that’s even possible.”
“It isn’t hard. Come here.” She stretches out her hand and I pull on my T-shirt and pants before taking her hand.
She guides me to the bed, instructing me to lie in a comfortable position. For the next twenty minutes or so, her voice is soft and undulating, almost hypnotic as she leads me in a relaxation exercise where I focus on my breathing.
My thoughts are to be acknowledged but neither dissected nor engaged. Like leaves on the surface of a lake, I’m to take note and quietly watch them float by. That is all.
It’s so simple but also tricky because I’m training myself to shut everything out. The mind that is constantly running is being asked to stop. To still. She takes me within myself where it’s only me, my breathing, and my positive intent.
Meditation works, and I find myself calmer, more focused as we check out of the hotel, I go to a short meeting, and then we grab some lunch. Our flight leaves at three in the afternoon and we’re back in LA at a little after six in the evening.
The limo and driver are waiting on the tarmac when we get off the plane. Our luggage is placed in the trunk, and we slide into the back seat.
“I can get the driver to drop you off first at the hotel.” I turn on my phone, waiting to see if I have any missed calls or texts.
“I don’t want to go to the hotel.” She rests her head on my shoulder and places a hand on my bicep. “I want to go to your place.”
“Okay, my place it is.” I smile, easily accepting the possibility of Eva becoming a permanent part of my life.
25
We have time
EVA
He wasn’t exaggerating when he referred to his home, perched on a hilltop in Bel Air, as a mansion. His home is gigantic. Modern, marble and glass.
He starts to take me through the place and quickly gives up. There’s no denying it’s beautiful, but it isn’t him. His friends, Silas and Pansy, have a home, lived in and warm. It’s something Jared always wanted.
Even if he never uttered the words, never dared to say them out loud, his desire for a family, to be loved, and to have a home was scrawled across his beautiful features.
We enter a large bedroom with a king-size bed, and he drops his bag onto the floor, turning to face me.
“Are you hungry? We can have dinner, or is there something else you’d like to do?” He winks, his tone suggestive.
I giggle, and a strange fluttering stirs in my stomach. New York was amazing, all of it. And the sex…the sex was wonderful. I felt as if I’d found myself again.
My body came alive. Jared played my body like I was made for him. I’d soared and exploded from a pleasure I’d long since forgotten. I want more with this man. I want it all.
Gazing over his shoulder, bright blues, greys, and a touch of yellow and purple grab my attention. An enormous abstract painting of forget-me-nots hangs above his bed.
I suck in a breath, and my hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my God. It’s breathtaking.”
He peers over his shoulder and then back to me, grinning. “I needed you near me and when I saw that, I had to have it.”
“It’s lovely.” Words fail me and emotions consume me. “What’s your most favorite place here?”
“What do you mean? In my house?”
I laugh. “Jared, this isn’t a house. It’s more a hotel but yes, where do you go? There must be a place, apart from this room, that feels most like you?”
He folds his arms, narrowing his eyes, not an ounce of animosity in them. “What are you trying to say, Eva? You don’t like my house?”
“No. Not at all.” Shaking my head, I reach for him and grab his hand. “I just don’t feel you in most of this place. You’re here. This bedroom is like you.”
“Yeah, I guess I can see that. There’s only a few places. Next to the kitchen and my bedroom, I’d say my studio. Come.”
We wind our way through the house, stopping at various pictures of Jared with famous people or because something intrigues me, until we arrive in the kitchen.
I smell them before I see them. A big smile breaks out across my face. On the counter is a platter of freshly baked churros.
“I can heat up our dinner. I think it’s butter chicken, and these are for dessert.” He lifts the plate and brings it to my nose. “Or we can take these with us now.”
As if there’s any other answer. “Now, please. Did you have these made especially for me?”
He smirks. “I texted my housekeeper before we left New York. She makes them for me all the time.” He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “They are not as good as yours, but I think they’re still delicious.”