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Falling In Page 7


  Thankfully, he saves me from embarrassing myself.

  “Soooo, I woke up with an inkling that you were going to stand me up today. And from the look on your face, I believe I was correct. I figured you couldn’t ignore me if I’m right in front of your face, giving you puppy dog eyes.” He proceeds to show me those sad puppy dog eyes, plus a jutted lip.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Well, you were right. I was totally going to avoid you for as long as possible. Quite possibly forever,” I admit with amusement.

  He takes a step closer. All amusement is gone and is quickly replaced by heat and nervousness. Damn him.

  “Care to enlighten me as to why?” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and searches my eyes for the answer. Waiting for the lie or the truth.

  I sigh and whisper, “I think you know why.”

  With a slight smile, he nods then pushes past me inside my house. I hurriedly shut the door and follow him into the kitchen, where he plops down at the breakfast bar with his hands clasped together. He looks so comfortable in his surroundings. At least someone is. I’m still in shock. How dare he just walk into my house without an invite? Especially when I basically told him we couldn’t do this. Well, I at least implied it—I think. I wander around the counter and face him. That stupid effing sexy smirk is back, which just angers me more. I glare at him with my arms crossed. I’m trying to look tough and pissed off, but I know I am failing because his smirk just gets bigger. Asshole.

  “What do you think you’re doing? This is my house, and I’m pretty sure I did not invite you in to sit at my kitchen table. I thought you got it. We can’t do whatever it is we’re doing!” I practically shriek at him. He just looks smug and rolls his eyes. Seriously?

  “I am sitting here because you owe me breakfast. And I happen to be starving, so if you could be a good little hostess and feed me, I’d very much appreciate it. As for whatever we’re doing? We’re being friendly neighbors. And I could use a friend.”

  The smugness disappears and is replaced by a genuine smile. The corners of my own mouth begrudgingly tilt up in response. And just like that, my anger is gone. Damn it.

  I turn around and grab a bowl from the cupboard, scooping out some Honey-Nut Cheerios from the container on the counter. I open the fridge and pull out the Almond milk, pour some into the bowl, grab a spoon, and hand over the cereal to Jake. A huge smirk of my own takes over my face. Jake looks from the cereal back to me and erupts in laughter. That sound is quickly becoming one of my favorites.

  Once he stops, he shakes his head and digs into the cereal. We lock eyes between bites, and that warmth I seem to feel every time he’s near is creeping back in. And I swear he somehow knows it, because his eyes are suddenly on fire and his breathing picks up, as does mine. I turn away and busy myself with some unnecessary cleaning. As I’m rinsing out my tea mug, I feel him behind me. I tense up as he snakes his arm around me and sets his bowl into the sink. He lingers there before whispering into my hair, “What are we doing today?” I shudder, then whip around.

  Bad idea.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid Evie. He’s got me caged between his arms, and for a moment, I imagine him lifting me up onto the edge of the sink and having his way with me. But as he closes the distance, I remember myself and slip away before I do something I’ll regret.

  I walk out of the kitchen and can finally breathe again. My heart is racing so fast, it’s almost alarming. I take three shaky deep breaths and walk to my little writing nook, aka the living room floor. My laptop is resting on the coffee table. I open the drawer and pull out a printed copy of my third manuscript. Jake strolls in just as I’m checking my email. I look over my computer and meet his gaze, which is on me the entire walk to the recliner that is directly in front of me.

  I slide the book across the table and into his awaiting hands. He reads the title and then gives me a panty-dropping smile, complete with those lickable dimples. I melt just a little bit. Damn him.

  Pointing to the book, I explain, “That’s what you’re going to do today. I am giving you an advanced copy of my book. But it’s not for shits and giggles—I’m putting you to work. You, my friend and neighbor, are hired as an editor today. I’ll even give you a shout out in my note from the author.” I wiggle my eyebrows in enticement. “Of course, this means we’re probably going to be spending all day together, so if you don’t think you can handle that, tell me now,” I say, while biting my lip. He zones in on my mouth briefly before saying anything.

  With a smirk he replies in a deep sexy drawl, “I can handle anything you’re willing to give to me, friend and neighbor.”

  Damn. I don’t think I can speak at the moment. Squirming, I nod and avert my eyes. He chuckles softly as he grabs the book and gets comfortable in the chair.

  For the next hour, we sit in comfortable silence. He’s reading, while I am brainstorming ideas for my next book, amid furtive glances over at Jake every two minutes or so. Again this feels so domesticated and…right. It leaves me baffled. I don’t understand the feelings he stirs up inside me. I’m scared to explore them, afraid of what I will find out. I’m worried that my life is changing before my very own eyes, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m not sure I even want to stop it. Everything is suddenly becoming so unclear.

  I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. My breathing is becoming erratic, and I didn’t even know I was wringing my hands until I feel his on top of mine. I look up and meet concerned green eyes.

  “Hey, are you okay? You’re breathing heavily, and your hands are shaking. You’re shaking.”

  I close my eyes. Feeling his hands on mine is somehow soothing. Comforting. I inhale and exhale a few times, and when I open my eyes, I nod and smile self-consciously. “I’m sorry. Sometimes when I’m stressed I get mini panic attacks. I’ve had them since as long as I can remember.”

  He nods understandingly, but then looks curious before asking, “What are you stressing out about?”

  I blow out another breath. “Well for one, I have no idea what my next book will be about. I’ve spent years building this world, creating these characters, and managing their effed up relationships. I’m scared and sad to let it go.” It’s not a lie. Just a partial truth.

  “And what else? You said, ‘well, for one.’ What else is stressing you out?”

  He doesn’t need to ask. I can see in his eyes that he knows what’s bothering me, because he feels it, too. He just wants me to say it out loud. To admit it. But I won’t. I can’t. I’ve got everything to lose while he’s got nothing holding him back, so I just shake my head. His face drops but he nods and offers a sad smile, respecting my feelings.

  After that exchange, we get back to work. Only now, it’s not so comfortable anymore. With a sigh, I get up and walk back into the kitchen. I need a breather and a glass of wine. So I grab a bottle of white, two glasses, and walk back to Jake. He watches me pour and accepts the glass with a polite thank you.

  Forty-five minutes and an empty bottle later, the tension from earlier is gone and we’re now laughing hysterically at a mistake I made in the book. I wonder where my mind was when I typed cunt instead of grunt. That ease we usually have is back, all thanks to being slightly buzzed. Wine really does solve so many problems.

  I need to remember to be on guard though. Friendly, not flirty. I think that might be my new mantra. When my stomach growls loudly, I giggle with embarrassment and decide to make us some lunch. He brings the book with him to the kitchen, though he doesn’t seem to be doing much reading, since every time I look at him he’s looking right back at me. I shake out the shivers his gaze gives me and proceed to make a grilled chicken salad with avocado, mango, raspberry vinaigrette, and French bread.

  We take our plates outside, wanting to enjoy the sun after being in that living room for a few hours. He’s reading while he eats, his attention firmly on the book, and I happily take the opportunity to stare at him. He’s beyond sexy when he’s concentrating. His brows are slightly f
urrowed and he subtly mouths the words he’s reading between bites of his food. The action makes me zone onto those lips a little too long. I move up to his eyes, immersed into another world as the green shines against the sunlight. He truly is visual perfection.

  Trying to distract myself, I reach for a piece of bread that sits between us. But of course he does the same, our hands colliding in the process. We both jolt, eyes clashing and searing into each other, but no one makes a move to withdraw an offending hand. When he starts drawing lazy circles with his thumb across the top of mine, I close my eyes, and a small whimper escapes my mouth. Shit, did he hear that? I slowly open my eyes and am met with pure hunger. I clamp my legs shut at the force of his stare.

  Yep, he heard it.

  The sexual tension surrounding us is so thick I can almost taste it, feel it. I yank back my hand and practically jump out of my seat. Taking a step back, I attempt to control my breathing, which is proving to be difficult since those damn eyes of his won’t give me any reprieve. This was a bad idea—I knew it. Temptation. Jake is the epitome of temptation. And right now, I want to give in so badly it hurts.

  “Evangeline,” he breathes out. Standing from the table, he takes a step forward, but is unsure of taking more. The fire in his eyes has been put out, but the emotion that replaces it is damn near devastating. He looks completely torn. I want to go to him. Wrap my arms around him, feel his skin against mine again—do anything to wipe that look off his face, especially with my lips that crave his.

  I walk toward him, stopping right in front of his tall, lean body. He looks down at me with wounded and wanting eyes. I reach up and cup his cheek with the palm of my hand, resting the other above his heart. He leans into my touch. I don’t know what I’m trying to convey to him, but he nods against my hand nonetheless. That connection we have is in full force now. He understands that at the moment, this is all I can give him. Most likely, all I will ever give him.

  Although, somewhere deep down, I know I’m only delaying the inevitable. Something is happening between us, and I’m afraid it’s too powerful to stop. Just like yesterday, we stand still together, our breathing synchronized from the contact.

  Neither one of us want to pull away yet, not knowing when the next time we can feel each other will be. Then he turns his head, planting his full lips inside my hand and places a hauntingly slow kiss on my lifeline before turning on his heel and walking back inside.

  My hand feels like it’s asleep, with pins and needles spreading throughout my fingers. I clutch it to my chest, then with a sigh, grab all of the plates off the picnic table and follow Jake inside to the kitchen.

  Only, he isn’t there when I walk in. I place the plates on the counter, hunger long forgotten, and walk down the hallway to the living room. It’s empty as well. I should be relieved, thankful that I don’t have to keep my guard up and fight this internal war any longer today. But I’m not. All I feel is cold. And empty, like this room. I sit down on the couch and stare off into nothing. When I finally snap out of it, I notice my phone on top of my laptop. It lights up from an awaiting text message. I pick it up cautiously, noting the unknown number and read:

  Unknown Contact: I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. But you know I had to before I did something you aren’t ready for yet. I took the book with me. I’ll finish it tonight and bring it over tomorrow morning. So far, it is honestly the best of the three. You should be beyond proud, Evangeline. Text me back whenever. Jake.

  I reread the message at least ten times. I had to before I did something you aren’t ready for. What did he want to do? Kiss me?

  More?

  My heart starts pounding just at the thought. Should I text him back? I don’t even know what I would say. Besides, that definitely feels inappropriate. Although, I’m pretty positive we’re way passed inappropriate. I mean, I should thank him for today, right? For helping me edit. It’s the friendly thing to do.

  Yeah, Evie. Keep telling yourself that.

  I decide to text him back.

  Evie: Hey Jake. It’s ok that you left. It was probably for the best anyway. Thank you for today, tho. I truly appreciate your help. But maybe from now on we should keep our distance. You know, only see each other when the kids are together. I think it’s the smart decision.

  I press send and wait.

  It’s been five minutes, and still no response. I sit, glaring at my phone, willing for it to beep, but it does absolutely nothing.

  After ten minutes of silence, I grab my phone with a sigh and start to head upstairs when there’s a knock at the door. I pause mid-step, turn around slowly, and open the door. Jake is standing there, looking like he’s on a mission. I’m guessing that mission is me. Fuck. Barging through the door, he shuts it softly behind him and walks right past me. We both turn to face each other. My back is now to the door he just stormed through.

  “You don’t mean that.” He says with conviction and no preamble. His eyes blaze through mine.

  “Yes I do.” I try to come off as confident as he did, but my voice wavers with uncertainty.

  I never was a good liar.

  He takes that opportunity to step closer and closer, until he’s got me pushed up against the door. I get a sudden flash of déjà vu again. Remembering my dream from the night before, my whole body flushes with heat. I close my eyes and take a deep but shaky breath. I can feel him closing in on me. His body is just barely pressing into mine, but I can still feel his hardness against the top of my skirt.

  He puts his mouth near my ear and whispers, “No. You don’t. You don’t want to stop seeing me. I can feel how much you don’t want to stop. Your body shudders every time I’m near you. You want me just as much as I want you. And Evangeline, I want you so fucking badly.”

  He trails the tips of his fingers leisurely down my arms until he reaches my wrists. Grabbing them, he pulls them up and pins them above my head, keeping them locked with one hand. I am wet and hot and so fucking terrified of what he’s going to do next. I know I should be pulling away, yelling at him to stop, slapping him, for fuck’s sake—but I can’t. My body is humming for him. I want this. I want him. This is so wrong, but damn, it feels so right.

  We’re just staring at each other, waiting for one of us to do the right thing. He must see the battle in my eyes because before I can tell him to just kiss me already, he’s pulling away and taking a step back. I whimper at the loss. His chest is heaving erratically, which I know for a fact matches my own. I blow out a breath, feeling disappointed. But at the same time, I’m relieved.

  Goddess, I’m such a mess.

  “I’ll see you later,” he croaks out, looking dazed.

  I can’t find my voice. I just gulp, nod, and turn around to open the door. He takes one last longing look at me before leaving. I shut the door and slowly make my way over to the couch, sit down, and can’t help the huge ass Cheshire cat smile that spreads across my face.

  He almost kissed me. He wants me. Badly.

  I knew he’d be trouble.

  Chapter Seven

  Jake

  I knew that girl would be trouble. I can’t believe I almost kissed her.

  What the hell am I talking about?

  Of course I almost kissed her. She’s a goddess, and doesn’t even know it. I’ve been sporting at least a semi hard-on all fucking day. But right now, I am so hard, I swear I’m going to poke a hole in these jeans. She’s turning me into fifteen-year old boy again, ready to come with just a glance my way. Those eyes, man, those chocolate eyes can see into me like a magnifying glass. The eyes that screamed kiss me will haunt my dreams tonight. I wanted to kiss her, to feel her and claim her for myself, but those same eyes that begged for me to do so also looked so damn scared and unsure. I need her to be sure. I can’t take this lightly. I could possibly be breaking up a family here. I need her to make a choice, and right now she just isn’t ready.

  God, what if she’s never ready?

  I shake it off. I can’t think about that
right now. I walk upstairs into my bathroom. Right now, I need a shower and the palm of my hand.

  I turn the water on, making sure it’s as hot as it can be. I need to wash this tension away. I quickly undress, my cock throbbing with the need for attention. I step in, resting my forehead on the wall behind the showerhead and let the scalding water rain down on me before my hand wraps around my length. I close my eyes and she’s right there, looking at me with those big brown eyes that see through my soul. As I move my hand up and down slowly, wanting this to last, I remember what she was wearing today.

  Damn, she is so sexy it hurts. That long, slinky skirt was showing off an ass that could put Kim Kardashian to shame. I want to grab and bite and spank that ass ‘til she’s screaming my name. And those breasts—when I saw her this morning in that tight little tank top, no bra, nipples standing at attention, I almost came in my pants right there. Most dudes would probably think they’re too small, but I think they’re fucking perfect. A handful of perky perfection.

  I start to stroke my cock faster, remembering how she felt against me when I pinned her to the door. The surprised look on her face that quickly turned lustful. She wanted me. And God, I want her. I start beating my dick so hard, knowing I’m about to come. I remember her scent—that incredible scent. She smells so good. So sweet. I just know her pussy smells the same. And at that thought, with a primal grunt, I explode into my hand, fast and hard. Come runs through my fingers and down my leg.