Wanted (Most Wanted 1)

He answered with another sharp smack. "Tell me again what it is you want?"

"I want you to spank me." I want you to fuck me.

"Tell me what you want." Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. "Tell me," he repeated, his words followed by another spank.

"You. I want you, Evan. I've always wanted you." I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I'd revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.

"I have to have you now, Lina. I can't last another second of not being inside you."

I tried to say yes, but it wasn't necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn't let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn't have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.

He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.

He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he'd reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.

I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.

"Evan." I said his name like a prayer.

He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.

"Lina," he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn't entirely sure that he'd meant for me to hear it.

Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.

I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.

I closed my eyes, and his soft, "You're wonderful," was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.

fifteen

"I don't have nightmares when you're with me," I whispered, as I woke in Evan's arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.

"I'm glad." He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. "I don't like that you've ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They're not real, you know. They're survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don't have to feel guilty for being alive."

"I don't," I said, my voice hoarse. "Not because I'm alive." I sucked in air. "It's because she shouldn't have even been out of the house that night."

I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn't actually certain I was making sound. I'd never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself--that I shouldn't build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks--the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.

"I'd been sneaking out a lot," I continued. "Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn't. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business."

"But that night she followed you?"

"And that was the night they took her." My voice broke on a sob. "I didn't see it. I didn't even know she'd followed me until the next morning when she wasn't in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she'd snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood." I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. "I never told anyone."

"It wouldn't have made a difference." He stroked my hair. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "The universe is a fucked up bitch, and she doesn't play by the rules."

"I stopped, you know. That very day I stopped sneaking out and acting wild and cutting loose. I turned myself completely around."

"Did you?" he asked. "Yourself? Or your behavior?"

I didn't answer, but he was dead on the money, and I think he knew it. Nothing inside me had really changed. I'd just locked it up tight.

He sat up, then pulled me onto his lap. I leaned in close to him and sighed. I didn't like playing true confessions, but at the same time it felt good to have shared my secrets. Or, rather, it felt good to share them with Evan.

"I'm an absolute wreck you know," I said. "I think you must be a saint for putting up with me."

His low chuckle thrummed through my chest. "Hardly. And you're not a wreck."

"Oh, I am." I sighed and closed my eyes. "You say you've wanted me for so long, but I don't think you're seeing the person you think you're seeing."

"No? You told me before that I see you."

"Wishful thinking, maybe," I said.

"No." The word was strong and simple and held a world of understanding. "You were right. I see you. I do. I see what you are."

"What am I?" I asked, hating how small and insecure my voice sounded, but I had to know. Had to hear.

"Beautiful, vibrant, smart. You're selfless. You're empathetic. And though you may not always be correct, you always do what you think is right. And," he added with a mischievous grin. "It turns out that you're quite talented in bed."

At that, I laughed out loud.

"I see you," he repeated. "I see the core of you, Lina. The heart. And I damn sure hope that's what you see in me, too, because my top coat may be shiny and bright, but underneath that you're going to find a lot of tarnish."

"And beneath the tarnish?"

"Much shinier," he said. "But very hard to get to. Except for Tyler and Cole, Jahn is probably the only one who ever has."

I sat up straight so that I could see his face better. "That's sad," I said, but even as I spoke, I realized that his words could apply to me, too. How many people had I truly let in? Honestly, except for Jahn, I could think of none. Not even Kat. Not even Flynn.

"What about your mom and your sister?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. To a degree. But they're not around. They moved away years ago. I hardly ever see them anymore."

"I'm sorry." I regretted bringing it up. I remembered now that the various articles I'd read had talked about the fact that he'd worked his ass off to move them out of Chicago so they could make a better life elsewhere. He'd remained behind, running the businesses that had earned the money to finance their move.

"It must have been hard," I said. "Growing up the way you did. Your father's death, and then having to shoulder so much when you were so young."

His smile was humorless. "Just how many articles have you read about me?"

I shrugged. "All of them, I think."

As I'd hoped, he laughed.

"Fiction writers aren't the only ones who spin stories, Lina," he said.

"It's not true? The way you took care of your mom and your sister?"

His expression was both harsh and wistful. "I did--and will always do--whatever is in my power to protect my family. I will take any risk, I will make any sacrifice, I will do whatever it takes to turn the odds to my favor. And I will never regret a single choice I made where those two women are concerned."

The passion in his words reverberated through me, and I couldn't help but picture a young Evan carrying such a huge burden. That he'd not only survived but thrived--was just one more bit of proof that this man was exceptional.

"The universe is fucked up," I whispered, remembering the words he'd spoken to me--and wondering what risks he'd taken, what sacrifices he'd made, and how, exactly, he'd shifted the odds in his favor.

"Yes," he said harshly. "It is." He met my eyes. "Don't ever be naive, Lina. Whatever you've read--whatever you think you know--keep in mind that the press coverage about me doesn't even come close to the truth."

I frowned, knowing this was an opportunity. I'd told him about Gracie; if I asked, he just might tell me the truth. About what happened after his father died. About all those secrets Jahn had mentioned. About all the things that Kevin had hinted at.

And yet I didn't ask. I didn't say one single word.

I'm not entirely sure why I held back. All I knew was that the sexy, dark, dangerous man I'd fantasized about was finally in my bed, and would be for the next three weeks. Did I want to risk that high by bringing reality into the mix?

I didn't, and so I stayed silent, gently stroking my hand over his. His knuckles had healed quite a bit, but they were still red, the skin obviously tender. "There was trouble with one of the women who works at Destiny," he said, though I hadn't even lifted a brow in question. "I had a little chat with the man causing the trouble. Now there's no more trouble."