Chapter Thirteen

Evie pushed away the basket, knowing if it stayed too close, she would continue to eat. The fare had been even better than she could have imagined, just like the beer. She’d always had a soft spot for fried foods paired with heavy beer, and the pub did not disappoint her. She had laid ruin to the fried halibut and left only a few of the gloriously thick, salty chips on the paper. She wanted to devour the rest, but she was afraid if she did, she might never be able to move again. The second beer sent her into an acutely happy state, her mouth rising into a relaxed smile.

Their waitress becoming scarce, Alec took himself off to pay for the rest of the tab as the back room became more crowded. In the front of the house, the bands switched out, a lone banjo player and his two fiddlers giving way to a larger piece band out of North Carolina.

Part of Evie wanted to stay, but she feared she might fall asleep at the table, her eyes heavy from a combination of their long drive and the heavy alcohol hitting her stomach like a sedative.

The first song of the band’s set was lively. It was a catchy combination of bluegrass and rock, something that just made her want to get up and move, and she was not the type to dance in public. Or in front of other people. Or in rooms with mirrors. But she tapped her foot to the beat and wished she could make out the words the singers belted. She leaned back, scanning the crowd for Alec, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, as the first song came to a close, a couple stumbled back from the front of the pub, their arms intertwined and gazes turned to each other. The woman smiled giddily and clung to her companion, both arms wrapped around one of his as if she were afraid he might slip away. But the bounce in her step was a happy one and her mop of red curls bounced around her flushed face.

Evie stared wistfully as they stopped just shy of the back door. The route was a popular one all night, patrons taking their drinks to go sit by the wood-burning fire pit. The woman held her face up to his, melting into his chest as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Clearing her throat, Evie pulled her gaze away. She didn’t want to appear a voyeur, but she found them again. Wistfully, she sighed. She wanted a connection like theirs. One so easy, no words needed to be spoken to draw them together.

She glanced over her shoulder, seeking Alec once more.

Maybe she already had it.

Smiling softly to herself, she peered back at the couple. They ended their embrace but didn’t pull away immediately.

Evie startled as Alec’s hand landed on her shoulder.

“Ready?” he murmured.

She turned her face up to him and her heart slammed into her chest. Once. Twice. Again. Speeding away in a wild gallop. And the world melted away around them.

Evie stood, sliding her arms around his neck, and pressed herself into him as she pulled his lips down to hers. They met with a spark of electricity and she swallowed a gasp as a shiver ran through her.

He pulled away first. “That was unexpected.”

A blush crept over her cheeks and she blinked her gaze down. “Sorry, I—”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He pecked another kiss on her lips.

She tried to recapture his, but wasn’t quick enough. And then his mouth was nipping back at hers, a little game of cat and mouse until they were pulled together like magnets. The music crescendoed as they came together, her hands dragging his face to hers.

She had never been one for displays of public affection, but now she didn’t care. If not now, when? When she no longer felt a connection with him? When it became forced? When their time ran out? She wanted to be with him now. And if she had learned anything in the past year, it was to seize the moment.

He dragged his mouth from hers, his breath ragged. “Somehow, I don’t think here is the place.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I think the locals might feel differently.”

She snorted. “Oh, but darling, surely they would love something to talk about?” she drawled in her best southern accent.

“They and perhaps the local media. ‘Couple copulates on pub table in public while baby boomers sit nearby.’”

“Has a nice ring to it.”

“Yes, until your parents see your mugshot on the nightly news while you’re supposed to be snugly tucked in bed. In Kansas.”

She rolled her eyes and threaded her arm through his. “You make me sound like a wild teenager.”

Evie wasn’t sure he heard her as he cut a path through the throng of people waiting for an empty table in the front room where the air hung thick and heavy with smoke from cigarettes, cigars, and what she was sure was a pipe.

They spilled out onto the cracked sidewalk, and he disentangled his fingers from hers to drape his arm across her shoulders instead. She sank into the warmth and matched his strides, ignoring the slight twinge in her leg.

“I imagine you were a wild teenager,” he mused after they had crossed the street.

It took Evie a moment to realize he was picking the conversation back up. And that he had, in fact, heard what she said.

“Then you, good sir, would be very, very wrong. I was every parent’s dream as a teenager. I was respectful, a good worker. I never got in trouble. I was an academic overachiever. I told my parents what my plans were and I never drove fast or had sex with strangers.” She paused. “Well, not as a teenager, anyway,” she amended.

“I’m not sure how I am supposed to take that.”

“However you would like.” She lifted her right hand, grasping his fingers where they idly stroked her shoulder. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him. “It wasn’t until I had finished college that I became the rebellious hellion you know and love now.”

He tensed.

Evie glanced up at him, but he stared forward, his lips pressed into a firm line. She tightened her hand around his. He tangled his fingers with hers and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

The walk back to the hotel seemed to be both an eternity and a blip in Evie’s memory. All she could think of was getting him naked, of getting herself naked. Of all of the amazing things he was going to do to her body. That she was going to let him. They barely made it into the elevator before she pressed herself into him again, sliding her hands up under his shirt, her fingers gliding over his warm skin, the heat of him burning her cold flesh. They felt their way blindly out of the mirrored car and bumped down the hall to their room. He inserted the key card and no sooner had the lock clicked open than she dragged his shirt over his head.

Clothes created a breadcrumb trail to the bedroom until Evie stood before him wearing nothing more than the lovely pair of satin panties he bought her, yanking at the stupid button fly of his jeans, sure a masochist had designed them. Alec reached down between them and stilled her fingers, bringing her hands up to his lips. He placed a kiss to the knuckles of her fingers and looked into her eyes with longing and an emotion she was almost certain he would find in her own. An emotion she was scared to put a word to, herself. And one she wanted to keep buried.

“Evie I—”

“No.”

He was momentarily taken aback. “Evelyn, I need you to know I—”

“No,” she repeated. She jerked her hands away and slid them around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers. “Not now. Just… be with me for now.”

She could tell that he was prepared to argue, but it never came. He gave her exactly what she wanted, pulling her firmly to him. He breasts crushed against the hair on his chest, and all of the tingling feelings that overtook her body turned to raging molten pools of arousal. She wildly attacked his mouth, pressing her hips into his, desperate for the hot, quick release she had been dreaming of since before they had left the pub. She was already on the edge, and all she needed was for him to push her over it.

And then she was falling back, caught by the softness of comforter and mattress, his jeans were unceremoniously kicked to the side. And she was given exactly what she had craved. It was all she needed; a promise he was hers.

****

Evie resurfaced slowly, her body weightless, full and sated and tingly everywhere. And, as her mind cleared suddenly very, very embarrassed.

Alec ran his lips over the pink, puckered scar running from hip to knee, the place where her femur shattered and the doctors had to use screws and bolts, stitches and staples to put her back together. Tenderly, he moved down, his fingers light as a whisper as he traced the jagged line before pressing his soft kisses along the same path.

Her scar. The worst part of her. The most broken, the most repulsive part of her. The part of her she wished she could make disappear, the part of her that caused her the most shame and insecurity. She did everything in her power not to look at it and to cover it from the view of others. The night they had spent in the cottage was different, only the light of a single candle casting shadows through the already pitch interior. It had been bad enough he’d felt it as he administered the massage as a medical professional, but this…

She closed her eyes, shifting away, letting him know she was awake. But, he didn’t stop.

“Alec,” she begged, urging him to look away.

She pulled her leg up, trying to cover herself with her hand, but he only nudged it away. And he continued to worship the worst part of her. She tried to sit up, to dislodge him as she adjusted, but he placed a hand on her opposite hip, pressing her gently into the soft cocoon of the bed. His thumb kneaded the smooth flesh just above her hipbone. And he kissed the scar, again.

“Stop, Alec, please.” She buried her face in the crook of her elbow. “I don’t want you to see me like this. It’s so ugly, and terrible, and I don’t even want to—”

“Don’t ever say that about yourself,” he admonished gruffly. “This is the best of you. This is the mark of a survivor, the proof that you went to battle and you came out alive. This is the part of you that tells your story. This is the most beautiful part of you.”

Her eyes stung, filled, and he swam out of focus. She clamped her teeth together to force the tears back in, to keep them from spilling over. She refused to blink knowing they would fall the moment she did.

He slid up her body, his flesh warm on hers. A sob tore through her when she couldn’t hold it in any longer, and the tears slipped down her cheeks.

But he was there to kiss them away. Slowly. One before the other. His lips brushed hers lightly, bringing them nose to nose, and he plucked at her lower lip, a quick capture and release. The salt of her tears found her tongue through trembling lips, and another sob rushed forward. He cradled her cheeks in his big hands, his thumbs wiping away the drying tracks of her tears.

“You are more than your body, Evelyn.” He pressed another soft kiss to the corner of her lips. “You are more than your past.” Another kiss. “You are all of you, and there isn’t an inch of you I don’t—”

Was it embarrassment or pleasure burning across her skin? She couldn’t be sure. With a jerk, she broke his palms from her cheeks.

“Has anyone ever told you talk too much?” She pressed her mouth to his, silencing him.

He nipped her lower lip. “Has anyone ever told you you’re exasperating?”

“All the time,” she murmured.

And then she slithered down and showed him just how exasperating she could be.