Ten Good Reasons (20 page)

Evan yanked off his shades, bringing his fingertips up to press the bridge of his nose.

“Look, Lia.” His voice dropped to a strangled whisper. “I feel guilty for every feeling I have. I feel guilty for every minute you make me forget about my wife. And it’s been a lot. Of minutes, that is . . . It’s been hours . . . days. I don’t know what it is about you, but . . .” He shook his head and stared at the ocean for a minute. “I haven’t even thought about anyone else since she died. I’ve had a deadness in my chest.” His hand went there. “I
like
it there. It reminds me of where she is. It keeps me with her, in a weird way. But when I met you . . .” He shook his head.

Her hand went up toward his jaw. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

But he caught it and dragged it away. “It’s not. I’m trying to do the right thing here. I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore. I’m just damned glad you have that boyfriend.”

Her mind raced, for a second, about whether or not to tell him. The confusion and pain etched into his face made it seem as if she were causing him more grief than good. But then she took one more look at that chest she wanted to touch, one more
glance at the lips that had feathered her lipstick last night, and one more glimpse of the passion she wanted unleashed upon her right now.

“The thing is, Evan . . .”

As if he sensed what she was about to say, he looked up at her slowly. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you because it seemed so petty, and then . . . well, it wasn’t on our agenda or anything . . . but . . .” She took a deep breath and decided to just blurt it out: “Forrest and I broke up this afternoon. That’s why I was crying earlier.”

He didn’t move for the longest time, just stared at her from beneath the hair that had fallen down his forehead. Several emotions seemed to play across his face, which she watched almost like a movie reel: awareness, skepticism, worry, pain, then something that looked like resignation.

“You okay?” he asked. Anger now replaced worry, etching a line between his brows.

“I’m okay. I think I might have liked the idea of him better than the actual him.”

He nodded and seemed to think that over, staring at the deck tape. “On a scale of one to ten, how okay are you?”

“What’s a one?”

“You’re so upset you want me to get out of your way and take you home right now.”

“I’m a nine, then.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. A family of seagulls squawked overhead as he seemed to think something over. “Then can I do what I’ve been wanting to do for the last several days?”

The ocean felt quiet and private beneath them, as the boat rolled gently. She took in his hooded eyes, his stubbled jaw, the full lips that were waiting for her answer. . . .

“Yes,” she whispered.

And Evan’s mouth covered hers in a kiss that sent her back against the cabin wall.

*   *   *

Evan’s hand was in her hair, his other shoving Drew’s jacket off her shoulders, then roving her body, his lips taking hers, before he could even think about what he was doing.

With all rational thought now overboard, all he could concentrate on was getting under her dress, touching those peaked breasts he’d glimpsed while she was sick, feeling that backside he’d watched sway away from him one too many times, lifting her and wrapping her shapely legs all the way around him—preferably naked.

He pushed her back against the cabin, breaking the fall of her head with his palm, and using it to steady her so he could kiss that mouth of hers, which turned him on in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand. His erection pressed hard against his jeans as he explored her lips, her tongue, and tried not to crush her against the fiberglass and—
God, it had been so long since he’d touched skin so soft—
his other hand skimmed along her curves from her thigh to her breasts, desperate to get inside her dress and touch the body he’d been staring at for five days, as if her clothes might miraculously fall off if he’d stared hard enough. He groped for some kind of entry at her top, and—
damn, she didn’t have a bra on, sweet holy God
—made his way over her hip, to cup that beautiful ass of hers and see if she still had that thong on, and—
fuck, she did—
and there was only a tiny thin fabric between his hand and that bare bottom. His fingertips went down to find the hem of her skirt, and . . .

“
Evan?
”

She was talking. She wasn’t pushing him away, but she was talking. He struggled to wrap his mind around the first point while ignoring the second, because all he wanted was more touching, more skin, more breasts, more of that flickering tongue that was doing some damage here, but she suddenly sounded urgent.

“
Evan
?” she asked between kisses.

He backed away about an inch, trying to get his brain to function again, embarrassed that he’d just lost his mind. He breathed into the narrow space between their chests. “What?”

“Who’s . . .”

Her fingertips were at his chest. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give her better access, but he was trying to concentrate on what she was saying. “Who’s
what
?” he asked, impatient.

“Who’s navigating the boat?” she whispered.

He spent another fraction of a second getting his brain to
start whirling again, tearing away from her body, moving his hands from the softest skin he’d touched in ages, moving away from her rosebud mouth.

“I should get to that,” he managed.

“You should.” Her chest was rising and falling, too, her breath coming in gasps, her lips all rosy and swollen.

“Give me ten,” he choked out.

He took the steps two at a time to the bridge. The boat hadn’t gone off course—thank God he’d killed the motor earlier—so he fired the cat forward, pulled hard on the wheel and got her back strong and steady. But damn. How embarrassing. Stupid. Irresponsible. Adolescent.
What was wrong with him?
He shoved his hands through his hair and looked around for his shades, but realized he’d left them down there. Probably flung them somewhere in his mindlessness.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see where Lia had gone, or what she was doing. She probably thought he was a sex-starved idiot. Which, right now, didn’t seem like an unfair assessment, but still. . . .

He didn’t know what had come over him.

Well, he sort of did.

A sassy mouth. Thrown back shoulders. Nerve. Bravado. Two perky breasts. Lush lips. Curves for miles. Great legs.
That
had come over him.

But he didn’t know why her. And why now. Not when he still felt like he needed to mourn Renece.

He turned the boat toward the marina and let the guilt wash over him again.

“Hey,” he heard from behind him.

He could hardly look at her. “Hey.”

“You forgot these.” She held his shades toward him.

“Thanks. Did I throw them on the ground in my overzealousness?” He wiped them on his T-shirt and shoved them back on. “Sorry about that, Cinderella. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“It’s been a while?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. It’s been a while. . . .”

“So between the driving, the steak dinner, and the kissing, what’s been the best thing to get back to?”

“Ah, that’s easy. That steak dinner was something else.”

She laughed and slid into the bench behind him. “If it makes you feel better, it’s been a while for me, too.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you had a boyfriend.”

“Well, we’ve done the kissing, but not much more. And he doesn’t kiss like . . .
that
.”

Evan wanted to puff out his chest at that comment. But then he realized he was an idiot. Because a guy who’d only been with one woman his whole life shouldn’t be feeling bravado when faced with a little spitfire like this. Though that detail that she’d never slept with her boyfriend intrigued him. . . .

“What was up with you and your boyfriend?”

“What exactly is your question?”

He smiled. “Why were you not letting your boyfriend touch that beautiful body of yours?”

The jetty was on the horizon. Thank God. Because he didn’t know if he could keep talking to her like this, with an ongoing erection he hoped wasn’t too noticeable, without doing what he really wanted to do.

“I thought maybe he was The One, and I wondered if maybe abstaining from sex until we got married might be good for the relationship.”

“I take it that didn’t work out.”

“No.”

The motor revved louder as Evan tried to get the cat to the marina faster.

“But we failed for other reasons,” she went on. “It just wasn’t a strong relationship.”

“You don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“I’m not. I just want to have really great sex right now. I’ve never had really, really great sex.”

Evan swallowed a few times and leaned toward the jetty.

“What do you think?” she pressed.

“What do you mean, what do I think?”

“I mean, what do you think about us just having really, really great sex?”

He tried to swallow again around the tumbleweeds that were in his throat. “I think, if that’s what you want from me right now, Cinderella, I can oblige.”

“You can give me really,
really
great sex?”

“I could do my best.”

“I don’t want to be let down.”

“I’ll try.”

“I want it to be like on TV.”

He glanced at her. “You got any other demands for me?”

“I might have a few when we get there.”

He closed his eyes and willed himself to get to the marina yesterday.

CHAPTER

A
s soon as the boat was snuggled into the slip, Evan galloped down the stairs, tied the lines—he just secured two; the other two could wait—then banged through the cabin door.

The guilt was still there. He loved Renece. He knew that. But he wanted Lia so badly he ached.

She stood still, leaning against the cabinetry, turned toward him. He knew his brain had gone into a sexual fog of some kind, and he was in that stage where he couldn’t make a rational decision. If she gave any indication that she didn’t want this, he’d back off. He needed her to think for both of them. He looked at her dumbly and waited for a clue.

For a long time, she did nothing. Just stared at him, her eyes roaming up and down. Her perusal turned him on. He hadn’t felt that in a long time—or at least hadn’t paid attention in a long time—and it sent his testosterone into some kind of chest-pounding overdrive. His groin followed suit, and he shifted uncomfortably, finally letting go of the door handle but not taking his eyes off Lia.

She nibbled on her lip. She couldn’t possibly be imagining
what he was—her naked, moaning, under his hands, under his body, burying himself inside of her.

She shifted and blushed. Her sassy exterior was missing, replaced, now, with a shyness he didn’t recognize.

He gulped for air while he waited for a signal.

Then—finally—she held out her hand.

Evan turned and locked the door.

*   *   *

Lia let herself swim in the kiss that melted her bones as much as the first two did. Evan’s lips were demanding, promising, suctioning then soft—all in a carousel that had her sliding along the wall, his hand in her hair, his need for her pressing her into the streamlined cabinetry.

Her body was liquefying, her arms and legs already a pool of jelly.

Evan’s hand moved to the side of her breast, cupping its smallness, his fingertips running along the deep neckline of her dress, searching for entry. She loved his frenzy; she loved his delirium; she loved the recklessness that drove her back behind the galley, her hands gripping the wall behind her to make sure she didn’t fall.

His lips left a trail of kisses toward the inside curve of her breast as his enormous hand cradled the outside.

“Lia,” he breathed heavily. “If you’re going to tell me this is a bad idea, please tell me now.”

“We’re good,” was all she could manage. Her voice was strangled and foreign.

He lifted his head. “Then help me get you out of this damned dress.”

Her fingers pushed his aside and made quick work of the knot behind her head, as she panted and undid the dress, peeling it down. Evan stood back and watched her, his arms held out slightly at his sides, an animal restrained, his eyes never leaving her bared skin.

“Are you on birth control?” he asked hesitantly.

Her fingers stilled.
Dang
. Since she and Forrest had decided to wait . . .
Why was sex so hard for her?

He turned slowly, reluctantly, backing toward the entrance
cabinet. He reached to the high shelf and pulled down the first-aid kit.

“It kind of freaked me out to discover my brother keeps condoms in his first-aid kit, but now I’m grateful.” He rifled through the box, slid it back up to the shelf, and came back toward her. “Who do you think uses these?”

“Cora and Douglas?”

“No kidding?” He smiled, then parked himself in front of her, arms crossed. “Continue,” he said gruffly. “Please.”

The command had the reverse effect she would have thought it would have. Instead of irritating her, it sent a thrill through her fingertips.
Who was she with this man?

She undid the hook at her waist and unraveled the rest of her dress. She felt so exposed—revealing breasts too small, hips too wide—but Evan’s appreciative gaze wrapped her in warmth.

The dress fell to the ground.

Evan’s eyes worshipped her for a few more seconds. “Come here,” he said.

“You’re still dressed,” she threw back.

“Come here, Lia.”

“Not until you undress.”

He glanced behind her once, or maybe it was a bit of an eye roll. “Come here.”

“We’re not going another step further until you undress,” she said.

He laughed and started toward her. “You don’t take direction very well in the bedroom either, do you?”

“As I said, it’s not my strong suit.” She smiled, covering up her nervousness. “Does it bother you?”

“No.” He stepped forward again, his fingers going to his buttons. “It turns me on, actually.” He unbuttoned the rest, shuffling the shirt over his shoulders and flinging it behind him.

But she pushed him back with both hands. “You’re still not undressed.”

He was beautiful. Perfect V shape, from his shoulders to his waist, rounded muscles on top that gave way to tanned, ridged ones across his stomach. She hadn’t had such a physical-labor, workhorse-type man before, with muscles
formed under wind and rain, and callused hands from ropes and sails. The few men she’d slept with had been so urbane, with soft shapes and manicured fingernails. They’d usually be sitting on the edge of her bed by now, carefully undoing their cufflinks, tucking their loafers neatly in the corner—not smiling wolfishly like Evan was right now, his shoes coming off in a whoosh, flying to the other side of the cabin. Making rough, quick order of his Levi’s buttons. Swooping off his worn blue jeans while maintaining a forward motion with an impatient, all-male body.

His animalistic approach didn’t leave her enough time to look at him, enough time to appreciate the naked bullishness that was this man. She was back against the farthest wall in the cabin before she knew what hit her, his mouth again covering hers, his hands all over her body. He treated her breasts as if they were prized possessions instead of the small package they were, palming their softness, running the nipples between his fingers until they rose like little mountains, licking them to attention, kissing their peaks. She rose to her toes with each delicious tug, letting out moans that embarrassed her. Her hands clawed at his shoulders, at the wall behind her, then found their way into his hair.

“Do you want to do this against the wall or do you want the cot?” he mumbled, his hand sliding up the wall where the cot hook was.

She moaned.
Do this against the wall?
This was perhaps more than she was ready for.

But no, she was ready. This is what she needed. This is what she’d always wanted. Urbanity had been her problem. Wolfishness was where it was at.

Her legs went weak; Evan’s tugs at her breasts sent her off the floor; his strong, naked body against hers drawing squeaks from her throat. Evan’s biceps froze next to her ear, waiting on her word about the cot, as his kisses trailed down her neck. His other hand slid along the side of her breasts, over her hip, between her legs. She couldn’t even answer. She could barely breathe.

He abandoned the hook and used both hands to pull her toward his nakedness. A groan rumbled in his throat as their bodies met and molded, skin to skin.

Maybe the wall it was.

His fingertips traced the thong band over her hip. “Take these off,” he said between kisses.

“So bossy,” she managed to whisper.

She could feel him smile against her lips. “So stubborn. Spread your legs.”

“You’re too bossy, Evan.”

His smile grew wider as his hand continued between her thighs. “I could coax them off you.”

He touched her through the lace and nylon of her thong until a gasp escaped her throat. He tugged it aside and slipped his finger underneath, catching her by surprise and sending her off the floor with another embarrassing gasp. By the time his finger plunged inside, pleasure spiraled through her, and she was on her toes again, sucking in air as she bucked against the wall.

“Cinderella, I know you want to run the show here, but if you’re demanding really, really great sex, you need to let me take control for a while.”

“I can’t—
gahhh . . .”
Her protest was swallowed into a spike of pleasure as he withdrew his fingertip and parted her gently, then began circling her entrance with his thumb.

“You can,” he said low into her ear. “Let go.” His finger went deeper.

“Of what?” she asked around her next three pants.

“All that control.”

She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about until his finger plunged again, and—
oh sweetness, glory be
—she moaned, and he withdrew methodically and began that circle again at her entrance until she was light-headed, her head lolling against the back wall.

“Take these off,” he repeated.

She acquiesced this time, her legs and arms barely functional, but she managed to scoot the lacy scrap down over her thighs, her knees, her ankles, then stepped out of them. He stepped back to watch her, then sheathed himself with the condom and pinned her again.

“If you let me take over, we’ll both be happier in the long run.” He breathed into the space between them. “As I said, it’s been a while.”

She simply nodded. She couldn’t even speak.

He had her off the ground in one strong lift, hoisting her and pushing at the backs of her thighs until she wrapped her legs around his waist. He entered her swiftly, but only his tip. Her body seemed to clamp down, and as he pushed farther, pain shot through her.

“Wait, wait,” she gripped his shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Damn. This is what always happened.
Why couldn’t she have normal sex like other women?
Here was the sexiest guy she’d ever had the pleasure—ahem—of knowing, who had her in a froth just moments ago, had curled her toes, had her moaning with enjoyment, and now here they were—her body shutting down like it always did.
What was wrong with her?

He was too big. It was his fault. He was hung like a bull. What woman could possibly—

“Lia,
let go
,” he said between deep breaths.

“Let go of what?”

“
Control
. Seriously.”

Her head went back against the wall and she willed herself to relax.

“Don’t think of anything but pleasure,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re allowed.”

His finger wrapped from underneath her thigh and hit that joyous spot again, and she bucked against the wall.

“There we go,” he whispered.

He coaxed her open. He rubbed, he circled, he kissed her neck, he whispered dirty words in her ear, and next thing she knew, he was fully inside of her—all huge amounts of him—and thrusting her against the wall. Sometime between the velvet kisses and the fourth time he said, “
God, I’ve wanted you so badly . . . ,
” she came in a magnificent way—her body breaking apart, her head exploding into a shattering light, a ray hitting her brain, and pleasure throbbing to her fingernails. . . .

His biceps shook and he slid her down the wall, then stilled against her, pulling her into his chest but leaning his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily.

She closed her eyes and let the last of the rays reverberate away. “What was
that
?” she whispered.

“That was really, really great sex,” he said.

“Thank you, Evan.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

But Lia simply smiled. Definitely hers.

Finally
.

*   *   *

Evan could hardly lift his head, hardly lift his arm, but he needed to get off her. He was probably crushing her with his weight.

But
damn
. But
damn . . .
Cinderella was amazing.

The first stab of guilt came when he let his mind wonder if he’d ever taken Renece against a wall, and realized he hadn’t. But he shoved the guilt aside. Not now. He wanted to enjoy this. He wanted to look at Cinderella, and enjoy the first and only woman he’d ever taken against a wall, and push her hair over her ear, and revel in the fact that she was who she was. And maybe that was okay. He wanted to look at her, kiss her forehead, take his time backing away from her, and—

A frantic rap at the door shook the thin catamaran walls. “
Evan?
” came a man’s voice.

Lia met his eyes with her own saucer-sized blues.

“Evan, you in there?” the deep voice came again.

His brain couldn’t get synapses firing into place.

“Douglas!” Lia whispered, filling in for him.

Damn
. Adrenaline shot through him, helping him move away from her, helping him find his jeans, yank them on.

The rap sounded again. “Evan? You okay?” A key began scratching at the lock.

“Just a minute,” Evan yelled toward the door. He threw Lia’s underwear at her, yanked her dress off the floor, and began pushing her toward the head.

But the key jiggled just the right way and the door swung open—Lia halfway to the head, her dress clutched in front of her, frozen in the deep sun rays that shot through the galley.

Along with Douglas’s frown.

And, right behind him, Drew’s shocked expression from his wheelchair.

“Fuck,” Doug whispered, slamming the door shut.