Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(61)

Her hands returned to his hair, where she held tight while he continued torturing her with his talented mouth and drove into her slowly, ever-so-slowly, until she was writhing, shaking, and practically crying from her powerful release.

She’d collapsed with a happy, exhausted smile on her face, her muscles thoroughly worn out. Evan continued applying lotion to every inch of her skin he’d missed—paying way too much attention to her breasts, not that she complained—and tucked himself into bed behind her, his arm locked around her waist.

Shortly thereafter, with his front warming her back, she’d conked out.

And slept until midday.

“Crap!” She hustled to the bathroom, brushing her hair and teeth simultaneously. There was an appointment on her calendar for today, she was sure of it. What was it? She needed to get to her phone but wasn’t willing to go past the kitchen—where he was cooking—and retrieve her cell from the desk until she looked halfway presentable.

Five minutes later, satisfied she’d achieved at least halfway, she slowed her rushed pace and attempted to amble into her living room. She shot a glance over at the stove, a prepared casual “good morning” on the tip of her tongue.

The words wouldn’t leave her mouth.

Evan stood at the stove, nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs cupping his fabulous ass. Bare feet, bare calves, bare thighs. Naked back and shoulders. She studied the hand braced on the countertop, followed the evergreen tattoos up his arm to the shoulder featuring the regal profile of a lion, and up to his hair she doubted he’d bothered to brush.

Every inch of him so delightful to look at, she stared, phone forgotten, calendar forgotten…

“Ouch! Dammit!” He jumped away from the burner and flipped the stovetop off, turning to swipe at his stomach with a dishtowel. When he saw her watching, his lips kicked into a wry grin.

“Never fry bacon naked,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know. It makes for a fun show.”

Tossing her blue-and-white-checkered dishtowel over his shoulder, he pulled her to him, delivering a very long, very slow, very deep good-morning kiss.

It ended too soon.

Eyes closed, she murmured, “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “I have to work today.”

“Hmm.” He frowned, then winked. “BLT?”

“Coffee.”

“And BLT,” he answered, moving away from her to plate her breakfast.

Unapologetically, she watched his butt as he moved around her kitchen, getting the coffee on, putting bread in the toaster. She tried not to admire how at home he looked there, or how much she liked him taking up a portion of her space.

She turned away and unplugged her charging phone to check her calendar.

Phew.

The only “appointment” she had today was to touch up the Johnson reunion photos and e-mail them to Tami. It would take all day, but at least she didn’t have to physically go anywhere.

He delivered her breakfast to her desk five minutes later while munching on a piece of bacon. “What’cha got?”

She looked up from her phone, having begun scrolling through e-mails. “A day full of Photoshop.” She wrinkled her nose.

He gestured to himself. “Swine Flew sketches.”

“Can you draw in the daylight?” she teased.

He angled his head. “You continue to keep me up all night, Ace, I’m going to have to make it work.”

Flattered, she smiled and put a palm to her reddening cheek.

A thought about how this situation would so not work once Lyon was back home infiltrated her mind, but she hid from it. When she’d come home last night and changed into her lingerie, she’d made a promise to herself to have some fun. To be brave. This thing between her and Evan may only last until Lyon came home, and after, only exist in sneaky rendezvous when Lyon was at school, but she was willing to do a bit of circumventing to get what she wanted.

But when she glanced over and caught the flash of the sparrow etched onto Evan’s inner forearm, she thought of Rae. Rae, maybe only in memory if not in spirit. She was always with them. Always. Charlie imagined he’d compartmentalized Rae for the time being. She could do that, too. Forget her guilt for a few days. It’d be worth it.

Evan was worth it.

If they never became more than what happened on the couch and in the shower and on her bed, she knew she’d never regret spending this time with him. Memories to keep for a lifetime, no matter what happened after. She wouldn’t let it come between them—ruin their friendship, or her relationship with Lyon.

She couldn’t.

Simple as that.

Evan and Lyon were as good as family. Charlie wasn’t willing to lose them. Not ever.

Disconnecting her heart from her body was the only way to pull this off. Evan didn’t need to know he was fulfilling a dozen different fantasies for her. If he could compartmentalize, so could she.

A cup of coffee appeared by her sandwich.

“Get to work,” he said, then vanished down her hallway.


*


Charlie rubbed her eyes and blinked at the screen. Her back hurt, her head hurt, her neck hurt. She had no idea how many hours had passed, but the sun was bright in the sky, telling her there were plenty more hours in the day. And she still wasn’t done. She stood and stretched, tilting her head left then right, and noticed someone coming her way.