Chapter 5

Saturday 7.25pm

Evelyn

The second I close the door on Connor’s startled face, I start to sob again. I slide down the door and land on my rump as my body convulses as I try to smother more tears. I wrap my arms around my shins and hug myself as the rain only pours down harder, making me feel even worse.

The bridge must be washed out by now. Even if the weather calms down, it could take another week for the water to subside enough for me to cross it. To hell with getting into work come Monday, how am I supposed to get him out of my house?

I sniff and lean my head back on the door and swipe away the hot tears that don’t seem able to stop falling. I never let anyone see me cry. It’s always been a point of pride that I never cracked, even when the police knocked on my door, even when I had to call Scott’s mom and tell her, I held in my emotions, locking them inside until I was sure no one could see the depth of my pain.

Why is Connor’s presence bringing out my emotions? Maybe it was seeing a man so close to death that’s causing this abundance of feelings. Whatever the cause, I just want them to stop. I want to stop wanting him.

I scoff aloud at myself. I’m a walking disaster. A complete and utter desperate nightmare. Even if he didn’t need to leave, and even if he wasn’t the reason I’m feeling so conflicted, he’s not the kind of guy who sticks around. Even if I could sort through the muddle I’m in and act on my attraction to him, throw caution to the wind and sleep with him; I’d only end up in worse shape than I already am.

I can’t be that girl. I can’t be a one-night stand. I need something more than what his teasing offers. I choke on a sob as I admit that I want him longer than the weekend. I don’t want a tussle in the dark; I want more. After all I’ve been through, I deserve more than a flirtatious rogue like Connor can offer.

I exhale slowly, surer of myself now I’ve talked myself down from the proverbial cliff. I stand on shaky legs and cross my untidy bedroom floor so I can climb into my unmade bed. At least if I stay in here, I don’t have to face him for a while. He’s not going anywhere, and unfortunately, neither am I.

The best thing I can do is try to distract myself for a few hours, then get a message out to Rosie so she stops worrying and to my boss and give him a heads up I may have trouble getting into work on Monday.

I pull the covers up to my chin and concentrate on breathing in and out thinking of all the sensible reasons to stop me from leaving the room. Somewhere between me thinking of what my mom would say if she knew I was shacked up with a gorgeous man and how Rosie is going to flip out, a tiny thought starts to circle.

Why was Connor fishing when a storm was forecast? Wouldn’t any reasonable fisherman know not to take a boat out when the weather was going to turn?

When the thought doesn’t go away, and the light beside my bed flickers to life, letting me know the electricity is back on, for now at least, I know what the thought means.

He lied to me to get my help.

I’m torn between anger and fear I’ve made a horrible mistake allowing him in my house. I settle on anger and check my reflection, grimacing at the puffy face and red-rimmed eyes staring back, judging me for my changeability. I’ve never been this conflicted over a man. Not even Scott caused this much irritation and confusion. What does that even mean?

When I walk out into the hallway, still sniffing, I’m still not sure how I feel about Connor, but I am sure I’m ready to confront him.

I pause when I hear a male voice over the rain and wind outside. At first, I think he’s talking to himself, but when I peer around the corner, I see he’s listening to the radio on my phone again. I ready a reprimand when he spits a curse, and I stay perfectly still as I listen to what the announcer is broadcasting.

—should not be approached under any conditions. Slade has known gang affiliations, ties to the criminal underworld, and has several arrests going back to 2008. This incident is his latest in a series of—

I duck back into the hallway as he looks up. My heart is in my throat when I finally make the connection I was too dumb to make earlier. The boots, the injury, the lack of concern about being locked up here with me.

I open my mouth in a silent scream, but what is the point of screaming when he’s the only one who can hear me? I edge back to my room, hand over my mouth as I try to think. My stomach is roiling as I consider my actions. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not realized? Nausea swells in my stomach. He used me. I saved his life. And he used me. Slept on my sofa, ate my food, and he was so convincing I nearly made an unthinkable mistake with him.

If I weren’t so utterly terrified of the man waiting in my living room, I’d tell him exactly what kind of asshole I think he is for taking advantage of me. I need to get out of here. I need to just get in my car and go. Risk the drive. Find the Sheriff or try to get some cell reception so I can call the police. I just need my keys.

“Damn it,” I say too loud.

Of course, they’re in the living room. They’re on the table by the sofa. Right beside the first aid kit. Right where he is.

A gust of wind shakes the cottage so violently; I stop breathing. If the roof flies off, Connor will be the least of my worries. I swallow back the last part of my fear and take cautious steps towards the living room. Another gust of wind makes the windowpanes rattle, making me rethink my crazy idea of leaving in the middle of a storm, but I’m not going back to my room to sit on my hands. Not when I have a chance to at least alert the police.

I pull my shoulders back and try to look casual as I enter the living room. Connor’s eyes are on me instantly, then he reaches for the cell and turns the volume lower. I narrow my eyes, thinking of the way he was quick to turn the news off this morning. I can feel his eyes burning into me, and for a horrible moment, I’m certain he knows I overheard the radio. My heart jumps about as I reach for the wine glass to steady my nerves. I risk a look at him and find him eyeing me cautiously like I’m a mad woman about to attack him.

“You drink a lot, huh?”

I nearly spit out my wine. He’s judging me? Me? I glare at him and purposely take another swallow of my wine. “How much I drink is none of your business.”

He angles his head and looks me over, his voice surprisingly tender. “Are you okay?”

I’m so surprised by the genuine concern on his face that I splutter a response. “Of course, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Riiight, so this is normal for you then?”

I huff out a breath, wondering how he’s managing to turn this around to me when he’s the liar and criminal. “There is nothing about you being here that is normal,” I spit at him.

He seems genuinely bewildered, then he rises from the sofa and looks almost worried. “Look. We don’t know each other. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I was just asking if you were okay. You know. Trying to be a good guy.”

I chug back the rest of my wine and swipe at my mouth, sounding more and more like I’m unbalanced. “You are not a good guy. A good guy would have told me the truth.”

His eyes widen, and he staggers back as though I punched him. “What do you mean?” I slap a hand to my mouth, disgusted at myself for losing my composure so easily. His posture shifts, fists curling at his sides, and for the first time, I can see how dangerous he is under the charm. I swallow, numbness crawling over me as he takes a step closer. “What do you mean by the truth?”

I try for a smile, but my lips aren’t cooperating. “Um,” is all that comes out.

He takes a step closer, and I knock into the table hard enough to make the wine bottle rock. My hands start to shake as I see every possible scenario running through my mind. What was I thinking? I should have left him on my porch. Gone straight to Sheriff’s office in town. I could have made it. Could have made it over the bridge before the rain washed it out.

He’s staring at me, his chest rising and falling quickly, like he’s controlling his anger. “Evelyn. What are you talking about?” When I don’t answer, his eyes shift so he’s looking over my shoulder. “Is all this drama because of him?”

I’m so taken back by the odd question that I follow his gaze to the photo of Scott. I snap my head back in his direction. “This has nothing to do with Scott.”

His eyes roll. “Ah. Mr. Perfect has a name. Must have been some guy for you to make a shrine to him.”

All the breath leaves my body. I slam my wine glass on the table and barely notice it cracks under the pressure. “How dare you! You have no right to say anything about Scott.”

He shakes his head, but for the strangest reason, he seems angry with me. “How long has he been gone? The dust is an inch thick in there so I’m guessing it’s been a while.” I move to slap him, but he grabs my hand and wrenches me closer to him. “He’s gone, so you what? Sit around thinking about how great it was, while you’re locked up here with nothing but his ghost?”

I try to break his grip, but he’s way too strong. Adrenaline is rushing through my body, priming me to fight back. “You’d know all about being locked up, wouldn’t you?” I spit at him.

A dark look crosses his face, but he doesn’t release me. “Yeah. I do know about being locked up. What I can’t understand is why you’d choose that.”

Tears start to track down my face as he brings me closer so we’re eye to eye. “I am not in a jail because I’m not a criminal!”

As his anger seems to increase, all mine washes away as fear makes me shrink back from him. His expression switches and his shoulders relax. “Ah, fuck. I’m a criminal, not an animal, woman.” He kisses me so roughly, with such obvious intent that my knees give out. With a growl, he sweeps me into his arms and frowns at me. “Take it easy, darlin’. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Before I can even think about how incredibly strong he is, he takes a couple steps forward and drops me on the sofa. I’m so surprised; I gasp as he backs away with a smirk and grabs the wine bottle to swig until half the contents are gone. He swipes his mouth and manages to look menacing and sexy as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Look. I screwed up, okay? I should have been honest from the start, but you are an incredibly sexy woman, and being this close to you, having you take care of me, it’s like an unbelievable fantasy I don’t want to end, so yeah, I haven’t been completely truthful.”

My pulse doesn’t slow, but with every word that falls out of his mouth, any fear I had of him harming me in some way is replaced by pure unadulterated carnal lust. I’m starting to breathe quickly. My head is getting light. From the wine. From him. His intensity. The sheer risk. The recklessness. The need.

The heat in the room that has nothing to do with the fire. I want him. Right here. Right now.

I tug at the neck of my sweatshirt and try to think about anything apart from the way he’s looking at me. Like he wants to devour me. I’m so turned on; I whimper from where he threw me on the sofa. His eyebrows rise, and he seems to stop breathing. He swallows hard and places the wine bottle down on the coffee table without breaking eye contact.

“Evelyn don’t start something with me unless you want to finish it,” his voice is a tease and a promise all at once.

I slowly ease myself up and pull my hair out of the knot so it hangs loose in waves around my shoulders. He doesn’t move, just stares at me as I switch off the lamp and pull my sweatshirt over my head. His eyebrow rises, but he still doesn’t make a move. I make sure my eyes are locked onto his when I slowly reach around to unhook my bra. I toss it away and start to tug my sweatpants past my hips, and this time he does move, fluidly, gracefully, like a jungle cat.

He stops just short of me, the slightest of smiles on his face, making me tremble with anticipation as he grabs the waistband of my pants and jerks me closer. With his eyes locked on mine, and him pressed against me, he slowly reaches out a finger and thumb to gently trail down my breast.

My nipples grow stiff as a shudder of need shoots down to my center, making me lightheaded with desire. He runs his finger over my nipple so gently like he understands I haven’t been touched in years. Like he understands that I need this more than anything else. When my body is trembling, and electricity is surging through my body, he gently grips the back of my neck and presses my lips to his with such urgency, such need I can taste it when his tongue finds mine.

His kiss grows more insistent as his fingers slide over my belly, then lower, sliding into my panties until he’s probing the deepest parts of me making raw, primal noises mingle with my jagged breaths. I’m clinging to him, using his body to support me as I come for the first time in so long I wasn’t sure my body remembered how.

Every inch of my body is telling me this is right. That I deserve this one perfect moment before he disappears. I’m so intoxicated, lightheaded with lust. My body is trembling with need as I grab his hips and pull him down to the floor so he’s lying on top of me. When our tongues are entwined, and he’s hard and yanking my sweatpants down, he stops asking permission and takes me the way I instinctively knew he would.

He rips my panties off and slides inside me moving so intuitively; it’s like we been practicing our entire lives for this. I’m lost in him, in how connected I feel to his body, in every touch, every sensation, every shock wave that he makes blasts through me. I lose myself in the moment, lose myself as he makes me come so hard I see stars and black starts to press in.

Heat is blazing over my skin as my hands follow every curve of muscle, every scar, every hard line of his back and arms. I want to touch him, to see him, I want to ride him, make him moan, take control, and claim him.

I whisper in his ear what I want to do to him and with a grunt and a practiced move, he flips me so he can pull me on top of him. My hair is trailing over his chest, over the bandage that is starting to show larger crimson spots. I run my hands down the hard muscles of his stomach. He moans as his fingers graze my nipples, complementing my own soft moans of delight.

I’m so wet, I slide over him and start to slowly rock back and forward, finding my own sweet rhythm, rejoicing in how perfectly we fit together until I’m screaming over the wind, over the rain. His eyes are clouded with lust when he flips me over again, but despite my protests that I want him back inside me, he’s not done making me come.

Connor pushes my legs apart and gives me a deliciously wicked smile before he starts using his tongue. I’m grabbing his hair and shaking as I explode into his mouth. When I can’t take it anymore, I wriggle out of his grip and grab his ass so he’s forced to enter me.

Without a word, he starts to drive me harder, deeper as I drag my nails down his back. Even as he pounds harder, making me come again, I know my perfect moment won’t last for much longer, but I can’t help but wish Connor isn’t the man I know he must be.

As he starts to shudder on top of me, gasping my name, I grip him tighter, silently wishing he can offer me more than just a weekend.