After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(46)

“Fuck.” I slam my hips up and bite down on one of her nipples. Her nails dig into my shoulders, but she doesn’t tell me to stop or go easy. Instead, she begins to bounce up and down on my cock.

One of her hands comes between us, rubbing her clit. I lean back on my hands to watch. “There you go. Working that * for me. Make yourself come all over my cock.” For whatever reason, I can’t stop talking when I’m normally quiet during sex. I don’t see a reason to give a play-by-play, but right now I can’t seem to help myself.

“Hunter…Oh my—I’m going to come.” Her mouth opens in the most beautiful way as her skin becomes covered in goosebumps. She chants my name as she comes, works her clit, and milks my cock.

Pleasure tingles in my spine, shooting straight up to my brain. I feel my orgasm coming. Feel it making my balls tighten. I want to mark her like I did last night, come all over her tits and *, rub it in again.

With a curse, I pull out, rip off the condom, and grab my cock. Hot spurts cover my hand as it splashes all over Evangeline’s body. My chest f*cking heaves as I come, as she wrings every last bit out of me.

I jam my tongue into her mouth, without any finesse, and slam our bodies together. My hands run all over her, even down to her * where I want to push my sperm inside, but clarity returns at the last minute and I stop before I can do something so damn foolish. Instead I rub her clit, make her gasp, and come all over again.

After a minute or two, she slumps against me. We’re sticky and wet, but I don’t give a f*ck. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, either.

Leaning back, she sighs again. Fucking adorable. “I think you’ve marked me thoroughly.”

“Enough for a shower for two?”

She nods, her eyes bright and shiny. “Yes.” However, instead of leaving, she lays her head on my shoulder.

“Something on your mind?”

“This is different for me.”

Yeah, I might have taken the marking thing a little too far. “Messy sex not your thing?”

“Oh, that part didn’t bother me.” She peers up at me. “That part I liked. A lot.”

That’s settled. We’ll do it again. “What didn’t you like?”

“None of it.” She sighs. “I’m supposed to be keeping an emotional distance from you, but I can’t help myself.”

Frustration rises so quickly that I almost say something stupid. I take a deep breath. This has nothing to do with me. This has everything to do with the nude woman sitting in my lap, covered in my come and resting her head on my shoulder. That takes a great deal of courage.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re exactly what the old me would have wanted in a man.”

Her reason doesn’t make me feel any better. “What about the new you?”

“She’s confused.”

“Showers for two usually help me clear my head,” I say, wanting to get back to where we were before. Yeah, it’s selfish, but right now my head’s going to places that can do her no good. I’m f*cking jealous of…myself of all people, for being attractive to the old her.

It makes no sense. Which is probably why she is feeling confused, too.

“I’m willing to give it a try.” Sitting up, she gently kisses me and then stands, holding out her hand.

Taking it, I allow her to lead me to the bathroom, unsure of what’s next with us relationship-wise but damn certain that I’m going to give her another orgasm.

—

As September flies by, Evangeline and I fall into a ritual of sorts. Either I stay at her place or she stays at mine, even if I don’t get home from work until two a.m. On those nights, I go to her apartment, so I wake her, but we end up having sex anyway.

Tonight I got home early, but since she is in the middle of cooking dinner, I come to her place instead. We’re eating roasted veggies and baked salmon. I will say that it’s a healthy dinner, except for the basket of yeast rolls that I’ve already eaten.

Running an extra mile or two will most definitely be on the plan for training tomorrow. Flab can’t hit worth shit, as Hayden likes to say.

I nod at the guitar propped up in the corner. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it. Evangeline’s not the type to go shopping for things she doesn’t need, something I learned when we spent one Saturday at a flea market.

Nodding at the guitar, I ask, “Is that for show or can you play it?” I suspect it’s the latter but want to hear it from her.

“Right now it’s only for show,” she says with a sad smile.

“But you can play it?”

“The old me used to play it all the time. I even made money off it.”

“I’m dating a musician—sweet. Maybe you can dedicate your next song to the hot cop across the hallway? That would be me in case you’ve forgotten what I do for a living.”

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I have a YouTube channel. Used to upload videos all the time.”

“There’s money in that?” I ask skeptically.

“One of the top-earning YouTubers ever. Or I used to be.”

“What happened?”

“Couldn’t make videos with bruises and Pe—AE wouldn’t allow me to wear makeup, so I stopped altogether.”