The Other P-Word Page 18
“In Barcelona?”
“Nah, in East Texas. I worked at a rodeo for a spell and the bulls got out.”
“What did you do?”
“Ran like hell. Point is, I did it and now I own the bragging rights.”
“Imagine doing all that and not having the balls to come meet my family.”
“Billie Marie, hold up and un-reverse your psychology. My balls are plenty big.”
Yes they are. “I promise you, I don’t have any devious plans. We’re friends. That’s what we’ll tell them.”
“Why do you want me there?”
“I think you’ll have fun.”
He sighed, mashing his fork into the potatoes. “I’m not the guy you bring home.”
“You don’t know my family. They aren’t judgy and they’ll love you. Hell, I think you’ll probably fit in better than I do.”
“Are you trying to be funny, Price?”
“Serious as Seventeen Years Locust.”
He whistled real low. “You know you’re a Rob Zombie fan if you can name that song.”
“My mom’s a fan.”
He paused his fork mid-air, waiting for me to tell him I was kidding.
I wasn’t.
“I wasn’t scared about meeting your family before but now I kind of am.”
“Either way, that’s got to make you curious. So should I tell Mom to set another place setting or what?”
“Thanks for the invite.”
I bit my bottom lip, waiting for the inevitable end of that sentence.
“I’ll go.”
I tried not to act too excited. “Cool,” I said, feigning nonchalance, except it came out all high-pitched, school girl, giddy.
I glanced around the room, because otherwise he’d see how happy I was. I didn’t want him to see that. It wouldn’t do either of us any good. His apartment looked like the inside of a freezer, with its barren white walls. “Have you ever thought about putting up a few pictures? Maybe try to make it homier in here?”
“Why make it something it’s not? Besides, I don’t stay in one place long enough to bother with it.”
Those words sliced into my heart, tearing it just a little. I tried not to think of his statement. I focused on the trees I’d seen while shopping today. The leaves were just budding. We had a lot of time left.
I should have talked about the weather or music or a hundred other things. Instead, I asked a dumb question that I really didn’t want the answer to. “How does this nomad thing work, Evan?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you carry all your stuff on the motorcycle, for one?”
“I don’t. I take only what I need, which isn’t very much.”
“You don’t take your guitar?”
“When I say I don’t have any ties, it works for possessions as well as people.”
“But don’t musicians prefer to use the same instrument?”
He shrugged. “Some of them. Personally, I don’t care. I usually pawn and buy new ones in the next place—one acoustic and one electric. As long as it’s a brand I like, I can make it work.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t buy that. What about your Harley? You love it. That’s a possession.” I wondered if I was trying to convince him or myself.
“I do love it, but it’s the fourth one I’ve had over the years. It’s not always practical, depending on the weather and location. I trade it in for a used car sometimes. If I’m going on tour with a band, I don’t need transportation at all.”
I took a long sip of my water, trying to absorb what it must be like not to care about anything enough to own it. “I guess you really don’t hold on to anything.” All the joy had evaporated from my voice.
“You feeling sorry for me, Price?”
“No,” I said out loud, even though my heart was moving up and down, nodding a big yes. “I just think it’s sad. People need to hold onto things, especially other people.”
“What you call sad, I call freedom. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I lost my appetite as I swallowed down his statements and their underlying meaning. Evan’s preferences were not only because he didn’t want to own anything or anyone. He didn’t want anyone owning him either.
Chapter Nineteen
I sat cross-legged on my bed with my laptop open. I punched the keys, but the words didn’t make much sense. Nothing made much sense with him leaning against my headboard in nothing but boxer briefs, a guitar sitting across his lap. I turned my head, watching as he restrung it and tested it.
He flipped his arm, revealing the scripted words I caressed every night before falling asleep.
“When do we have to be at your mom’s?” he asked, without even looking up.
“We have a few hours.”
“How’s the writing going?”
“Um…just taking a break. How’s the restringing?”
“Finished.” He demonstrated by playing a sexy rift. “Nice and tight—just the way I like them.”
“I’m jealous.”
He laughed, crooking his finger toward me, a fire in his warm brown eyes. “Want to play?”
I nodded, shut my laptop, and set it on the floor before crawling toward him. I ran my fingers through his thick hair and kissed him clumsily. He rolled us so I was on my back. He kissed my neck and nibbled on my earlobe. He needed a shave and I was happy he did—the stubble on his face drove me wild. I squirmed against his touch.
“He wondered why she kept moving around as if she wouldn’t allow herself to surrender to him.” His deep, raspy voice and panty-melting words caused me to squirm harder. He was a brilliant narrator.
“If he wanted her to be still then he would need to tie her up because she couldn’t lie quietly under the spell of his touch.”
Evan lifted his head from the crook of my neck, a wicked smile crossing his lips. “Is that a request?”
I shrugged, not sure what had prompted the sentence in the first place.
“I need a definitive answer, Billie Marie.”
“Yes.”
“You got a few scarves?”
“No,” I said, disappointed. I hated wearing them, but hell, they’d come in handy right about now. “Do you have neckties?”
“Do you think I have neckties?”
“I guess not.”
“This is BYOP, Billie.”
“BYOP?”
“Bring your own props.”
He sat on the bed and looked around my room. “But don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.” He walked over to the curtains and removed the tie-backs.
A new flush of excitement traveled down my body. He took each arm and massaged it before restraining my wrist to the headboard.
“Pick a safe word,” he said.
“You think we need one?”
“It’s a necessity.”
“Okay, what safe word do you want, Evan?”
He chuckled. “Very funny, smart-ass.”
Evan ran a finger across my lips. I opened my mouth and sucked it.
His breath became harsher. “Pick one…fast.”
As I stared into his eyes, only one word came to mind. “Chocolate.”
He nodded, checking my wrists. “Are they too tight?”
“No, just right but…”
“But what?”
“You can’t take off my top. You shouldn’t have restrained me first.”
“You worry about details too much. I got you covered.”
He walked away from me. I craned my neck but the angle didn’t provide any visuals. I did hear the fridge door open and slam.
“You’re kidding. Are you making yourself a snack?”
“The only thing I plan to snack on is you. As a matter of fact, I plan to feast on you.”
I searched for a witty comeback, but I wanted to come so badly, my mind drew blanks. The bed dipped with Evan’s weight. He pulled up my tank top. He manipulated my breasts, circling them slowly until he pinched them. I cried out from
the surprise of it, but the true surprise was that I enjoyed it. He watched me carefully, flicking his thumbs over my hardened nipples. He unbuttoned my shorts, gripping the sides and sliding them off along with my panties. I pressed my foot to his chest, waiting for him to take off my pink and black argyle knee socks, but instead he just pulled them higher. They were a silly impulsive purchase, but the way Evan looked at them made me awfully glad I’d bought them.
“I’m going to fuck you with your socks on. These have been turning me on all day.”
Note to self, buy more knee-length socks.
“Take off your shirt, Evan.”
“You don’t get to make requests. That’s not how this works.”
“It’s a demand, not a request.”
His shirt and boxers joined my discarded clothes, until all he wore was a salacious smile. I suddenly wished my hands weren’t bound because I desperately wanted to touch the ripples of his muscles. I lowered my gaze, watching him as he stroked his solid, hard length in his hand. “I’ll break rules for you, Billie Marie, but I’m in charge.”
“Yes, sir.”
He grinned in approval. He rubbed my waist, his hands spreading across it. “Feet flat on the bed, knees up in the air.”
I got into position. He took a condom from the dresser then walked around to the other side of the bed. He rested a hand on each knee, his darkened gaze trailing down my body as if drinking it in.
He penetrated me with his finger. I rolled my hips toward it.
“Are you at my mercy, sunshine?”
“I think you’re at mine.”
“You’re right,” he said, inserting another finger. “Do you trust me with your body?”
“Yes.”
The tilt of his mouth tightened. “Then offer yourself to me.” He whispered the command, but that somehow made the statement feral and demanding.
I spread my legs wider and lifted my hips off the bed.
He kissed my knee. “Good girl. What should I do with you, Billie Marie?”
“Put your mouth on my pussy, Evan.”
He kissed the insides of my thighs as he always did, but today he gently bit them too. I swallowed, surprised how much I liked it. Then he licked my pussy slowly, until I begged for more, not with my words but my body. He stabbed his tongue then, fucking me with it. His fingers worked in tandem, thrusting with the same rhythm. I cried and shivered and pleaded for release. He sucked my clit. I arched my back. He hummed. I bounced.
“I swear, you’re gonna make me bite my tongue.”
“With God as my witness, I will never harm that tongue. It’s magic.”
He laughed, the vibrations coursing through me. “I’m happy you think so.”
“Evan, inside me…please.”
He lifted his head, his lips glistening with my arousal. “Is it hot in here?”
“V-v-very.”
“Then I should cool you off first.”
“Yes,” I panted. “Wait, what?”
He placed an ice cube on my belly. Oh, that’s what he was doing at the fridge. He covered the piece of ice with his mouth and moved it with his tongue. The sensation of his hot mouth and the cold cube did me in. I would have squirmed but his hands clasping my hips held me in place. The ice cube went around my navel. It melted as he used his tongue to skate it between my breasts and over my nipple, arousing me to new heights. My wrists stretched against the drapery tie-backs with such force, I heard the stitching tear. His erection was against me but not inside me. He yanked his head back and stared at me. His eyes were a shade darker, almost black in color. His lips crushed against mine—cold, wet, hard, demanding. When he pulled away, I realized the ice was no bigger than a pebble as it slid down my throat.
“I need you now,” I said, somewhere between a whisper and scream.
“Glad to oblige.”
I faintly heard the rip of the gold foil package and Evan sucking in a breath. Then I could only feel. He curled his hands over mine as he thrust inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist until my ankles locked.
He grunted in response. I turned my head, watching the flex of his arms with each thrust and feeling the warmth of his lips against the hollow of my throat.
He paused suddenly. I pulsed my legs but he didn’t move. Instead, he rolled his hips as his lips met mine.
“You make me forget the world,” I said, kissing his jaw.
“And you make me happy I’m in it.” He mouthed the words against my neck.
My heart tore, and I opened my mouth to say something back, but he covered it with his until the climax took hold of both of us.
Chapter Twenty
I wanted to talk to him about what he’d said, but there was no time. We had to clean the scent of sex off us before coming to Mom’s house.
He wore dark jeans and a button-down blue shirt. He fidgeted with the knot of his pinstripe tie. I’d never seen Evan nervous. A rush of guilt fled through me. Was I pushing him too far? Would I push him away completely?
“I thought you didn’t own any neckties.”
“I borrowed this from Mike. I figured he wouldn’t be too pleased if I used it as a sex prop.”
“Yeah, I guess not. You really didn’t have to wear a tie, Evan. I doubt anyone else will be.”
“Wasn’t much.”
“Thank you for coming with me. I promise they’ll love you.”
He brushed his fingers through my hair, a slow smile on his lips. “Your hair’s messy from the helmet.”
“Your hair’s messy too.”
“You wanna fix it for me?”
“Nope.”
The sound of Damien’s old truck halted Evan. His hand pulled away so fast you’d think my hair was on fire. He shoved it in his pocket, as if trying to keep it restrained.
Mom opened the door. Three little boys rushed out, almost knocking me over. “Daddy!”
“What are you two doing standing out here? Come on in,” Mom said, gesturing us inside.
“Damien, you have the boys?”
“I think they have me,” he said. He was right. George hung on one arm while John hung on the other. Paul settled for a leg.
“You must be Billie’s sister. Stevie or Marley?” he asked Mom. I was touched he remembered their names.
“I’m her mother, Emmie Wolfe.”
“You’re kidding.”
Mom blushed, shaking a finger. “You’re a charming one.” She disentangled one of the boys from Damien and walked inside.
“Look at you, flirting with my mom,” I said, elbowing Evan.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was a legitimate question. That lady is your mama?”
“Yeah.”
“Was she twelve when she had you?”
“No. She’s aged very well.”
“What’s her secret?”
“You’ll know after you eat with us.”
He quirked an eyebrow, but the boys surrounded us, their curiosity taking over after they’d tackled Damien.
“These are my brothers,” I said to Evan, introducing them.
“We’re adopted,” Paul offered.
“Really?” Evan said, his grin relaxing.
“Yes, that’s why we look different. We were born in India. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes,” Evan said.
“You’ve been there?”
“No.”
“Oh,” Paul said, somewhat disappointed, but it only lasted a split second. “Mom and Dad came to get us because they wanted to make the family bigger. We’re special because they picked us to love, but they say they’re special because we loved them back.”
“Don’t hold back on your life story, son,” Damien said, tousling his hair.
“Oh, don’t let him fool you, Evan. Damien wanted his own IT team,” Adam said, patting Damien on the back. “I’m Adam, Billie’s brother-in-law.”
“You know Dillon,” I said.
“How goes it?” Dillon said, shaking Evan’s hand.
“It goes. The bar’s more efficient, thanks to you.”
“I’ll have to come by and check it out,” Dillon said.
All the other introductions followed. I had a big family, but it was easy to forget that sometimes because we were all close.
“Paul is really chatting it up,” I said. “When did he become such a talker?” Of course, Bobby and John gave him a run for his money.
“It happened almost overnight,” Damien said.
“Want to pick out the music?” Mom asked Evan.
“Music? Sure?”
I took his hand and led him over to the bookshelf. The records and CDs were kept behind a high cabinet now, as part of the necessary childproofing.
We all laughed when he picked New Kid in Town by The Eagles.
I picked up George and danced with him.
Stevie had brought her cat, Van Morrison. He and my mom’s cat, Prince, had some type of relationship. Evan’s mouth gaped when Van Morrison’s friendly nips turned more aggressive. Soon they were both licking each other’s balls.
“You don’t see that every day,” Evan said.
In this house you did.
“Stop!” Damien said, separating them. “There are kids here, for God’s sake.”
Van Morrison leaped away immediately, but Prince hissed at Damien before slowly sauntering off, his tail moving in a mocking pattern.
“Still not getting along?” I asked.
Damien shook his head, but before he could respond, Marley and Rick walked in. I ran toward her with George in my arms. “You look so…”
“Big,” she said.
“Beautiful,” Rick offered, kissing her head.
“I agree with Rick.”
“She’s a feisty one,” Marley said, rubbing her belly.
“She?”
“I think it’s a she but Rick thinks we’re having a boy. We decided to let it be a surprise.”
“I think that’s wise,” Mom said.
Stevie and Mom joined us. We all looked at Marley, one question in our eyes.