Ruth thought, was quite adorable. The sort of simple romance that she’d never experienced and, judging by the butterflies in her stomach, really wanted.
But it wasn’t all she wanted.
Ruth held his gaze and murmured, “I don’t wear pyjamas all the time, you know.”
His brow furrowed. “Uh… you kind of do.”
“No. Not when I sleep.”
His gaze heated, achingly intense. “I see.”
“Shall we go?”
“Yes.” As quickly as the word shot from his lips, Evans shook his head. “Wait. Come here.” But she didn’t have to move, because he grabbed her, pulled her closer, and kissed her. Oh.
Ruth couldn’t stifle the moan that gathered in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lower lip. He began with soft, nibbling kisses that mirrored the gentle touch of his hands at her waist—but slowly, bit by bit, the kiss transformed. Heated. Went nuclear.
She slid her palms over his bare chest, feeling every inch of soft, hair-dusted skin and taut muscle, before moving lower. As she neared his waistband, Evan growled against her lips. Then, suddenly, he grabbed her arse with firm hands and hauled her up against his body, kissing her harder. His tongue plunged into her mouth, his lips insistent, devouring, and she took all of his passion and returned it with a fire of her own.
Ruth wrapped her thighs around his waist and felt the growing length of his erection press firmly between her legs. She whispered his name, and he swallowed the sound.
With reluctance, Ruth broke the kiss.
He opened his eyes slowly, pupils blown, and murmured, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she panted. Nothing’s ever been so right. “Hurry up and take me to bed.”
26
Ruth tore off her clothes as soon as she stepped foot in Evan’s room. No underwear, because she really had been naked when her bed had collapsed beneath her. But she hadn’t wanted to apologise with her tits bouncing around between them, because that seemed undignified.
She had wanted to apologise, though. Turned out, once you started talking about things, it got way, way easier. And Ruth had discovered there were few people in the world she wanted to talk to as much as Evan.
She was completely naked and tucked under his boring, blue covers before she realised that Evan was still standing in the doorway as if frozen. She propped herself up on one elbow and asked, “Are you coming?”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “You do realise the most I’ve ever seen of your body is… copious forearm. And some ankle. I’m particularly fond of the dimples above your elbows.”
“How scandalous.”
Slowly, he came toward the bed. “What’s scandalous is you in my bed, naked, and completely hidden from view.” He came to stand beside her, staring at the outline of her body beneath the quilt as if he might suddenly develop X-ray vision. “Do you need me to turn the light off?”
“Oh,” Ruth said. “You think I’m shy.”
He arched a brow.
She smiled, feeling quite smug, and said, “I’m not shy.” Then she sat up completely and pushed back the blanket.
Evan sank slowly to his knees beside the bed, his eyes traversing all the hills and valleys of her body—and then repeating the journey again, slower, as if to savour certain parts. She wondered if she should’ve done this lying down, to minimise the roll situation, but then decided that rolls were fine. If they were going to do anything interesting, rolls would eventually occur. She couldn’t lie down constantly whenever they were naked.
Plus, Evan didn’t seem to have any complaints.
He bit his lip as he studied her, his eyes moving from the swell of her breasts to the shadowed space between her legs. She could spread her thighs wider, let him see what he wanted to see instead of hiding it away. But that wouldn’t be half as much fun.
Because she knew he’d ask, Ruth murmured, “You can touch me.”
He looked up, his eyes hungry. “Anywhere?”
“Preferably everywhere.”
Slowly, deliberately, he pressed a hand to her hip. Which wasn’t exactly what she’d expected—but the slightest touch from him left her breathless.
“I thought about this,” he said. His hand slid up, slow and steady, over her hip and toward her ribs. “I thought about how you’d look naked, and then I felt guilty.”
Her breath caught as his hand reached the underside of her breast. “Why guilty?”
He cupped the mound of flesh, no more than a handful for him. “Because I thought about it too much. And every time I heard your shower start or