His Best Friend's Wife (Bachelor Best Friends 2)

She turned to Evan in question, trying to read his expression. “Why not?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I told him there was no need, that you and I could handle everything for now.”

Renae swallowed hard. Had Evan simply been giving Tate a chance to concentrate on other business—or had he wanted to be alone with her again today?

“I picked up a bucket of chicken on the way home. I hope that’s okay with you.”

She wasn’t in the least bit hungry. “Of course.”

He didn’t turn directly toward the table. Instead, he simply stood there. Looking at her.

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Who leaned forward, who reached out. One minute they were on separate sides of the room, the next they were wrapped around each other, their mouths fused in a kiss that melted her spine.

Chapter Four

Renae felt the outline of firm abs beneath Evan’s shirt, the breadth of the masculine chest against which her breasts pressed. She savored the ripple of sinew in the arms locked so tightly around the dip of her waist, the upper curve of her hips. His thighs were solid columns against her legs, and the bold hardness pressing into her abdomen proved that he was as aroused as she by the close contact between them.

He most definitely stayed in good shape. He slanted his mouth to a new angle against hers, his lips softening, hers parting. Tongues dipped, touched, teased. His hands slipped downward, while hers rose to wind around his neck, fingers sliding into his thick, slightly wavy hair.

Sensations ricocheted inside her. Her blood heated, coursed through her veins in increasingly turbulent waves. Her thoughts whirled, fragments of doubt, desire, fear and recklessness fighting for dominance.

She ached. Beneath

her clothing, her skin tingled, needing more. The fingers of her right hand tightened in his hair while her left hand drifted downward to his shoulder, his warm, broad back. A low moan escaped her, and the sound seemed to galvanize him just as she’d thought he was pulling back. He lifted her against him, kissing her with a renewed fierceness that only fueled her own passion.

They made it to the bedroom only because the apartment was small. By the time they reached the bed, the hem of her dress was around her waist and Evan’s shirt was mostly unbuttoned. She felt herself tumbling, felt the firmness of mattress against her back, the softness of pillow beneath her head. But she was aware of those things only peripherally. Her attention was on Evan, and the deliciously decadent things he was doing with her.

His hand was under her dress now, his work-roughened palm against the softest of her skin. Her body’s reactions were familiar, and yet somehow all new. And it was amazing.

Her legs tangled with his. His mouth was at her throat, burrowing into the scoop of her neckline. He murmured something she didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask him to repeat it. She wasn’t in the mood to talk just then.

Drawing his face to hers, she crushed whatever he might have said beneath her lips and surrendered herself to sensation.

* * *

Lingering in Evan’s tidy bathroom, Renae checked her reflection in the big mirror over the sink. Her hair was neat, makeup freshened, dress straight and smoothed. She could return home confident that Lucy would never guess how she’d spent the past hour. At least, she hoped she would be able to keep her expression as unrevealing as her appearance.

As for the turmoil inside her, she’d have to deal with that later. When she was alone.

She couldn’t say whether she regretted her actions, or whether she was likely to regret them. That, too, was something she would have to analyze in private.

She couldn’t hide in here any longer, she told herself, stuffing her lipstick back into her bag. Drawing a deep breath, she made one last mirror check, then turned toward the door.

His own clothes rearranged, Evan waited in the living room, a glass of iced tea in his hand. He handed it to her, and she accepted it gratefully, taking a deep sip.

“I warmed the food,” he said. “You can eat quickly before you head home, can’t you?”

She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his efforts, but the thought of eating anything made her throat go tight. “I’m sorry, but I’m really not hungry.”

“No problem. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge and have them for lunch tomorrow.”

She nodded, relieved that he didn’t press the issue. “The scholarship—”

“There really wasn’t much left to do. I’ll send you an email later with any final questions. There’s no need for us to meet again until the applications arrive.”

So it could be several weeks before she saw him again, and then Tate would probably be there, as well. She supposed that was for the best.

Leaning against the back of a chair, Evan studied her for a moment before saying, “You look ready to run.”