𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 | 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

847 39 229
                                    

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 at any moment

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 at any moment. She could have pushed Michael off because, unlike his eldest brother, he wasn't imposing and domineering, nor did he seize her while they kissed. He was slow and patient. His hold on her was obliging and tender, his fingertips brushing over her scalp and cheek as though he were afraid she might shatter if he touched her too brazenly. And by every parting of his silken lips against hers, she was pulled deeper into the emotional fascination that started to transform into a powerful, flesh-burning craving.

How could she pull away? He seemed to have every bit of her between his warm, careful hands, and every one of her breaths suspended in the inviting, sensual heat of his mouth. It was all so overwhelming. Yet, somehow, she wanted more.

She grabbed for his collar, and he precariously followed when she pulled him closer. His hands fell from her head and landed with a clattering thud against either edge of the bathtub. The sound was what snapped her from his captivation—from her delusion.

Yonas was due home within a couple weeks. The drive had ended hours ago, long before she had sought solitude in a stranger's bathroom. But these feelings he elicited now and in the past week felt new. And permanent. So what the hell are you doing, Evelyn?

The crushing weight of reality came crashing down, and Evelyn leaned back to take her lips away from Michael. A twinge of disappointment harried her when he simply allowed her to, but she tried not to let it show on her face as she looked over his.

Her focus first went to his lips which were stretching into that disarming smile. When it stirred up the newborn memories of it being angled over her mouth and rousing that deep, pleasurable emotion, her gaze flickered to his eyes instead. Wrong move, she thought. He was dangerously tempting like that, with his adorably round eyes still trained on her and half-lidded in their aroused haze, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as if he were savoring the taste of her that was left on it.

Evelyn's heart throbbed. She quickly released his shirt. She wanted to move further away but had to settle for backing herself all the way against the bathtub his body still had her cornered in.

"What?" he asked softly—whined, like a child that had just gotten his favorite toy confiscated.

"I don't know what I'm doing." Evelyn struggled with the function of her legs through her high as she stood in the bathtub. Michael was haste to follow suit, and his hand cuffed her wrist before she could make it down the final step on the tub's platform.

"Hey..." His brows pulled together, then his hold on her tightened slightly as she made her way to the bathroom door with him trailing behind her. "I don't either, Eve. It's okay. We're just doin' what feels right and that's okay."

She wanted to laugh. Somehow, this Michael was cruelly cunning enough to have devised a plan that ended up bringing them together but not have the foresight to understand the consequences?

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫Where stories live. Discover now