Caveman (Wild Men 1) - Page 301

Shock flashes through her eyes, and she draws back in her seat. “No,” she whispers and glances around at the cafe. Her hands shake.

Fucking hell. She’s really scared. Why would she be? She said nobody from the people she tried to help hurt her.

Meanwhile, the girl trailing Seth takes a step back, her face twisting. “You lived on the streets?” she asks loud enough for everyone in the cafe to hear. “You never told me this.”

Who is this bitch?

Seth doesn’t seem to even hear her or care. He puffs out a breath, and his gaze flicks at me, unreadable, eyes flat like dark water.

Silence falls over us, a fishermen’s net, holding us still. It’s like a painting or a photo—Ev, leaning back in her chair, golden eyes wary; Seth towering over our table, shoulders tense and mouth tight; his girl with her back turned, drawing her coat closed.

Then time starts again. The girl walks away. Seth snorts and glances after her but makes no move to follow her.

“I should be going,” Ev says, her voice hushed. She glances around as if expecting someone to jump out of a hiding place and grab her. “I’m late.”

“You should hurry along then,” Seth drawls. “Don’t wanna turn into a pumpkin now, do you?”

She swallows and grabs her bag. “Be careful out there, Seth.”

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m off the streets now.” Seth gives me a hard look and for a moment I think he’ll say something more, but he turns away with a huff and leaves the cafe.

“Ev...” I reach for her, but she stands up and slings her bag over her shoulder. “Ev, wait. What happened? What are you so afraid of?”

“Nothing.” Her face is a mask, but her lips are colorless. “I just have to go. Thank you for the coffee.”

I want to smash my fist through the table and send the chairs crashing into the wall. My hands are curled tight at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

“Okay.” I nod. “Fine. But if anyone’s hurting you, if anyone ever hurts you, you come to me. Say you will, Ev.”

She stops in her tracks. I can see her profile so clearly against the dimness of the cafe—her long lashes, her pert nose, her parted lips.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she says, so low I barely hear it. Her whole body seems to be vibrating with tension. “Tell your friend to keep away from me.”

And with that enigmatic line, she’s off, limping quickly out of the cafe.

Why? What does she mean? I stare at her empty seat, trying to figure this new puzzle out, when I see her walking stick. She forgot to take it with her.

I grab it and hurry out of the cafe, but there is no sign of her. Maybe that’s a sign. Not that I believe in fate or any such shit—but she may come to me for it. And then I may get a chance to tell her who I am and find out what the hell has my girl so terrified.

The light flickers. She’s lying naked on my bed, arms flung over her head, gripping the headboard. Her breasts are taut, her nipples hard, copper jewels on her golden skin. Pale tattoos roll over her body like quicksilver snakes.

She sighs, and I can see the air leave her lips in a wavering cloud. Her hair lifts on a current, copper locks rising and falling like waves. Her legs part, and the darkness there draws me. I touch her thigh, trail my hand down, parting her seam. So soft. So warm and wet. My fingers dip into her, and she moans, throwing her head back. Her neck arches.

“Micah,” she whispers. “Make me come. Micah...”

I bow my head as I push deeper into her. It’s not enough, not for her, or for me. I need... I need her like I’ve never needed before.

I need to be inside her. I need to feel her hand around my cock, measuring it. It’s rock hard, pointing up at me, the head wet and dark. My heart beats at the base. It beats everywhere. I shudder as my balls tighten. I have to enter her, push into her—but how can I when she doesn’t know who I am?

“Ev...” I moan her name, still fucking her with my fingers, and her whole body lifts off the bed as she comes with a sob. “Ev...”

“Micah. Wake up,” a deep voice says. “Come on, man, wake up!” A hand shakes me, and I groan as I blink my eyes open.

What in the fucking hell? Where’s Ev?

The

face looking down at me looks masculine. Shaggy dark hair, dark eyes, stubble. Yeah, that’s definitely not Ev. Fuck.

Tags: Jo Raven Wild Men Romance
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