“God, Evan.” Then she lost it again, shattering around his fingers.
Evan let her savor every last vibration in her body. Then he withdrew his fingers. He rolled on a condom and entered her from behind, her tight canal holding him in a vise grip.
“Staci,” he groaned. “Damn it. I will never get used to how fucking good you feel.”
He slid along her coated inner walls, pulling all the way out and then pushing in. Deeper and deeper with each thrust.
She was sensational, and he couldn’t get enough of her. He pumped more quickly, more assertively.
“Evan,” she said in a lusty tone. “Yes. God. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
His pace increased. His thighs slapped against the
back of her hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady as he thrust more forcefully.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Yes. Evan. Yes!”
Her body quaked, and she clenched him so damn tight that he exploded within her, calling out her name as they both came.
* * *
Once again, Staci woke to Evan’s voice. This time, he spoke in agitation.
She was nestled in a silk sheet with a down comforter draped over her. She still lay where they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. Her body held the reminder of how aggressive Evan could be when he wanted her, and it made her skin tingle now.
He was damn good at claiming her, and she loved how explosive they were together.
But…something was definitely not right this morning. His tone was low, but decidedly dark. She popped her head out from under the comforter and caught a glimpse of him pacing alongside the sofa, iPhone pressed to his ear.
He said, “That’s not possible. I’ve got a lecture at Yale on Thursday, and then I’m speaking at Oxford on Saturday. I won’t be back in the office until the following Tuesday.” He listened some more, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, I understand that I’m not the lead on this project. But my notes on some of the advancements in prostheses are relevant to—yes, I realize that. However, my point being—” Evan let out a low growl.
Staci sat up. She tucked the covers around her. The fire still burned in the hearth, but a peculiar chill filled the air.
Evan said, “Of course that’s not how I feel, and that is not the case at all, Dr. Shipley. I know the accelerated timeline under which you’re operating, and I certainly did build that projection into my proposal. So—” Evan drew up short, his fist balling at his side. “If that’s the bottom line, then yes, of course. I will be there. I will present at the meeting. Absolutely.”
He shook his head as though irritated, then added, “Very good. I’ll see you then.”
He disconnected the call and tossed the iPhone onto the sofa as he swore under his breath.
Staci asked, “Something wrong?”
Evan spun around. The dread stamped across his face spoke volumes. The chill in the air seeped into her veins.
“Evan,” she said as she got to her feet, the sheet still wrapped around her.
“Everything is just…fuck.” He paced. Halted. Spun back to face her. “Everything is just seriously fucked.”
“Okay,” she said in a tentative voice. “Let’s start with a definition of everything.”
“Staci.” He pinned her with a look. “All of the work I’ve been doing with prosthetic prototypes has been set against a very tight timeline. But that timeline has been kicked into high gear and I’m falling behind. Way behind. So I’ve got one chance to present my theories in front of the hospital committee, and then I’ve got to follow through over the next couple of months. That means—”
He planted his hands on his waist. Gave her a dire look.
Staci’s stomach took a dive south. Everything inside her froze.
“Lay it on the line, Evan,” she said. Because she already felt the gloom and doom moving in on her.
“I can’t spend the weekend in Santa Barbara. As soon as my lecture is over, I’m flying back here to prepare for a presentation to the committee on Monday afternoon, and then—”