I’m torn. Do I get off here at my floor? Maybe find out which apartment is his?
Or do I keep it to myself that we’re closer neighbors than I realized and ride my ass on down to Erin’s floor?
The elevator makes the decision for me as the doors slide shut again.
But then I do something that shocks even me.
I jab the button to open the doors again, then step out of the elevator myself.
Fuck.
I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.
I know this guy is all wrong for me.
But at the same time, something about him screams oh-so-right.
It’s crazy. I don’t shy away from anything or anyone. But somehow, I instinctively know Evan isn’t just anyone.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, that arrogant smile gracing that perfect face of a god yet again.
“I thought you had plans.”
He says it tauntingly, like he’s testing me.
I tilt my head back and stare him dead in the eye. Challenge accepted.
“Something better just came up.”
Game on.
Evan
“Say it.”
Our bodies slam against the door to my place. I’ve got one palm on the mahogany paneling, and the other wrapped up in a fistful of Emilia’s hair. Her eyes are shaded by the thickness of her eyelashes, but they’re not closed in ecstasy.
They’re staring at my lips, so fucking close to hers.
This fucking girl. Just begging to be kissed.
“I’m not fucking saying it.”
“Say it,” I urge. This time with a very convincing thrust of my hips against hers.
I’m hard, thick, and long enough that I already know she’s going to struggle to take it.
But first, I want to hear the words from her sexy little mouth.
“Not on your life,” she growls, meeting my eyes.
Jesus. Her eyes. They’re so fucking blue they almost look Photoshopped. If I saw a picture of this girl in a magazine, I’d blink twice and call bullshit.
I get lost in them for a second anyway, searching for the edge of a colored contact and coming up short. Fuck me. She’s actually for real.
I forget myself. I take her fucking lips.
She tastes like nothing I’ve ever encountered before—and I’ve done a lot of taste testing in my life. It’s not strawberries, or champagne, or any of that bullshit. If anything, she tastes like blue agave.