The Idea of You (19 page)

He lay back and wrapped his palms around the metal, ready to push his body as hard as necessary to get back to normal. Whatever that was.

A
LAINA LEANED BACK
against the car and read the texts on Evan's phone. She hadn't really wanted to, but he'd asked for her help. And she thought he legitimately wanted it.

She scrolled back and read to what seemed like right after he'd moved from Longview three months ago. Wow, three months? That was a long time for this Michelle to keep texting him. Granted, at first he'd sent her things like
Miss you
or
Too bad you're so far away
. However, her suggestions that he come up for the weekend were always answered with
It's too far for me to come
or
I'm busy
. Alaina would've bought the clue, but if Michelle was really in love with him, it made sense that she wouldn't give up.

Alaina looked at his past call log to see if Michelle had ever called him. She found a few calls, but they were all missed. He hadn't once picked up the phone to talk to her. With any other guy, she would've said that was douchey—and she probably shouldn't give Evan a pass, but he was different, right? He said he didn't understand the nuances of a relationship, and she'd seen that firsthand.

She went back to the text messages. There were a couple from a month or so ago in which Michelle had railed at him in a lengthy diatribe about what an insensitive prick he was. Alaina cringed reading them. She could see how Michelle would think that, and honestly, she was probably justified in her anger.

Was the same true for Alaina? She'd started to get mad at him in the car after seeing the text—jealous, probably—but had slammed on the brakes because of who he was. She would've called their subsequent conversation an argument, except it wasn't like any disagreement she'd ever had with a guy before. She didn't have the sense that he'd been mad at her, like most guys would've been after she butted in. Then he'd actually asked for her help. What kind of guy asked the woman he was dating to help him deal with his ex? Who maybe wasn't really his ex. Oh, who was she kidding? She was
totally
his ex, whether he thought of her that way or not. Ugh, poor Michelle. Even worse, poor Jake.

That right there was why she'd gone from surprise to anger after seeing the text. As someone who thought the needs of a child were paramount to anything else, she didn't care for his cavalier attitude. But was it his fault? As Jake's mother, it was Michelle's responsibility to protect and only introduce him to a guy she was sure could be The One. Had she thought that about Evan? Had he somehow given her the wrong idea? It didn't seem as though he'd felt the same. Alaina wanted to help him, but she had to talk to him first.

She closed the garage door and walked to the house, realizing she was freezing. After she went inside, she paused at the top of the stairs. What if now was a bad time? He was trying to reorganize, like he'd done the other day with the wine tasting. Was it okay to interrupt him before he was finished?

Furthermore, did she want to? She was beginning to see how being with Evan would be different from being with other men. It would require special understanding and patience. Was she up for that?

Hell yes. He'd already demonstrated he was worth it, and honestly, it wasn't hard to be understanding or patient. She wanted to be. With him.

Slowly, she made her way downstairs and then stopped outside the door to the gym. She listened and just barely made out a grunt followed by metal hitting together. It sounded like he was lifting weights.

Just go in already!

She took a deep breath and opened the door. He was lying on the weight-lifting bench, staring at the ceiling. He'd shucked his sweater and was clad in just a heather-gray T-shirt. It pulled taut over his spectacular chest, and she wished he'd ditched that garment, too.

Tentatively, she picked her way across the gym. “Hey. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

His legs were separated, his feet planted on either side of the bench. He looked at her—really looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. She'd never seen his eyes look so deeply gray, so
intense
.

The eye contact didn't last, but it stoked a flame of desire in her core. “Do you want to talk about this?” she asked.

He sat up and brought his right leg around, turning on the bench to face her. He reached up and clasped her waist, his thumbs and fingers digging into her through her clothing. “Not right now.”

He unzipped her coat and pushed it off. She helped, shrugging her shoulders out of it and tossing it aside. He unbuttoned her jeans and ripped them down her thighs, pulling a gasp from her mouth. Then her underwear followed until she was bare to him. He pressed his thumb against her clit, and the spark of lust she'd felt burst into full-blown flames of need. She moaned as he slipped his finger into her, coaxing wetness.

Because of her jeans around her knees, she couldn't spread her legs, couldn't open herself up to the amazing sensations he was giving her. “I don't suppose you could take off at least one of my boots?”

He left his task to unzip her right boot. “They got really muddy.”

She laughed, simultaneously puzzled and delighted that he could note something so ridiculous when they were in the process of getting naked. Or at least partially naked.

He removed her boot and grasped the end of her jeans as she pulled her leg up and out of them—at least on that leg. On the other, she was still wearing a boot, and her jeans and underwear were sort of hanging off her. She opened her mouth to ask for help taking the rest off, but the only thing that came out was a long moan as he parted her thighs and slipped his tongue into her wet channel.

“
Evan
.” She twisted her fingers in his hair as he made love to her with his mouth. And then his fingers. They parted her flesh, opening her to his lips and tongue. Pleasure washed through her, and an orgasm built fast and strong.

He pulled away from her and stood, taking a condom from his pocket and then pulling his pants down, freeing his cock. “I need you.”

God, she needed him, too. She wrapped her hand around his heated flesh and closed her eyes. Desire flooded her core, and she could barely wait to feel him inside of her. “Hurry.”

He sat back down and guided her leg around his waist, easing her down onto his lap. She held his cock, stroking him until he found his way to her sheath. The head slid inside, setting off a million little shockwaves of delight. She moaned again as her orgasm threatened, but she held it off. She wasn't ready to lose herself yet.

He splayed his hands over her ass, his thumbs wrapped around her hips, and he guided her other leg—the one with a boot still on it—over the bench so that she completely straddled him. The movement seated him fully inside of her, filling and stretching her in the most delicious way. She braced her forearms on his shoulders and felt the cotton of his T-shirt. Oh hell no, she wanted bare flesh.

She reached down and grabbed at his shirt, her nails digging into him. Up she tugged until she whisked it over his head and threw it aside. He pushed her shirt up, not bothering with the buttons, and bared her bra. He didn't take anything off, just tugged the cups of her bra down until her breasts popped free, then he took one deep into his mouth and sucked.

She shoved her fingers into his hair and groaned as his hips began to move. It wasn't the easiest position since she couldn't reach the floor to push off on it, but he grasped her ass again and lifted her, then pulled her back down until he filled her once more. He did this over and over, his mouth never leaving her breast and his cock driving into her with deep, regular strokes. She closed her eyes tightly, completely focused on the sensations he was giving her. He lifted his head and latched onto her neck, his open mouth hot and wet against her fevered flesh.

He moved faster, his thrusts becoming more frenetic as he worked her up and down over his cock. She cried his name, begged him to continue, kept up a string of utter sex-induced nonsense until his thumb found her clit again and pressed against her, sending her spiraling into the most intense orgasm of her life. Darkness crashed into her, but he didn't stop. He fucked her relentlessly, prolonging her orgasm until he joined her, his shout filling the abyss and saving her from completely falling away.

She sagged forward, dropping her head against his neck. His movements gentled and finally stilled. Their rapid breaths filled the room as they both fought their way back to reality. At least, that's what it felt like to her.

She lifted her head and realized she hadn't even kissed him. They'd been completely swept away. She stroked the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He moved his head and caught her mouth, kissing her thoroughly. Joy unfurled in her chest.

When he pulled away, she smiled against his mouth. “That was . . . incredible.”

“I just . . . I just needed to do that. I hope that's okay.”

“God yes.” She pulled back and looked at him. As usual, his gaze was fixed somewhere else, which was always most awkward when they were this close to each other. But she reminded herself that it wasn't personal. It was Evan. “When you say you needed it—was it a sensory thing?”

“Yeah. I haven't ever done that before. Used sex to regulate. But damn, it worked.” His gaze flashed to hers, and she saw appreciation there and maybe something else. Maybe . . . wonder.

Or maybe that was just a reflection of what she wanted him to feel, of what she was feeling herself. She had to be so careful here.

“You came down here to talk to me about Michelle.” His tone was flat, but that wasn't unusual. Again, that was Evan.

She pulled her leg up and stood, feeling like a mess given her completely rumpled, half-dressed state. She shimmied her breasts back into her bra and pulled her flannel shirt down.

He stood up and went to the bathroom off the gym. She picked up her boot and saw that it was indeed muddy. Damn, she'd have to look and make sure she hadn't made a mess on her way down. She'd been too focused on getting to Evan, and now she felt terrible about dirtying Emily's house.

He came back all buttoned up but still shirtless, since he'd left the garment where she'd dropped it. “Thanks. I feel much better.”

She chuckled. “Um, good. Glad I could help. So, about Michelle. Do you really want my help with this?”

“Clearly I
need
help. I told you I suck at relationships. Did I completely fuck it up?”

She tried not to stare at his fabulous chest, but it was a major distraction. “Do you think you could put your shirt on? If you don't, I might start round two.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I'm tempted to leave it off, but I don't want to torture you. At least not right now. Maybe later.” He bent to get his shirt, and she was treated to a spectacular view of his ass encased in his perfectly fitting jeans.

Yes please, later.

She mentally shook herself. “Okay, back to Michelle. It seems clear that she had one idea about your relationship and you had another. Can I ask . . . How did you feel about her?”

He pulled his shirt on and shrugged. “I don't know. I liked hanging out with her. She made me dinner, we watched stuff on TV, we played cards, and we drank.”

“And had sex?”

“I was trying to be polite, but yes, we had sex.”

Jealousy sliced into her, but she pushed it away. He was obviously into
her
now, not Michelle. “What happened when you moved home? Did you talk to her about it before you left?”

“Yes, I told her I was moving.”

He was frightfully short on details, but then, he
was
a guy. “And what did she say?'

His brow gathered into pleats between his eyebrows. “I guess she was surprised, maybe upset. She asked if we could still see each other, but I told her that would be impossible since I'd be living seventy-five miles away.”

Okay, so he'd been clear. He'd said
impossible
. “So you made it clear that your thing was over. Do you think she understood?”

He flicked her a glance. “Is it bad if I say I can't remember?”

Had Michelle understood Evan, and had she communicated with him in a way that was clear? Alaina had no way of knowing, and she didn't think Evan knew either. “Well, whatever her expectation was then, she clearly wasn't ready to call it quits, especially if she's still texting you about it months later.”

“But how is this my problem? I told her I was moving and that we couldn't continue.”

It wasn't really his problem, put like that; however, if the communication wasn't very clear, Alaina could understand how their expectations and emotions could conflict. “How long were you together?”

“We weren't really
together
, we were just hanging out.” His hang-up on semantics probably frustrated a lot of people, but it didn't bother Alaina. In fact, she found it kind of sweet.

“Right. How long?”

“Almost two years, I guess?”

Yikes, that was definitely more than hanging out, but she wouldn't debate that with him. “Regardless of breaking things off with her when you moved, I think you guys had completely different perspectives on what your relationship was. I think it might be good if you acknowledged that you had a nice thing and maybe apologize that it didn't work out.”

He stared at her, or rather, his eyes fixed somewhere next to her head. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because two years is a long time to be with someone. If I were her, I would've probably hoped for something more, too.” Alaina was beginning to wonder that after not even two
weeks
.

“Why does the time frame matter? I never even said we were dating—not like with you.”

Alaina's heart flipped over. Later, she'd analyze that, like all women did, but now she fought to keep her focus on the topic at hand. “
I
understand, but she doesn't. You need to call her—don't text or e-mail—
call
her. Apologize, and say you feel bad about how things turned out but that she needs to move on.”