Page 64 of Jump on Three

Those were the only two options.

If she only knew…

I swallowed hard, uncertain I wanted to dignify that question with a response. But this was Evelyn. She wasn’t a girl who fished for compliments. She was as straightforward as I was—a small part of what made me like her.

“I liked you.”

She rubbed beneath her bottom lip with the side of her finger. “You wanted me to like you back, not just desire sex with you?”

Those words coming from her pretty mouth shot straight to my groin. She wasn’t trying to be sexy or turn me on, but it was inherent. This was Evelyn, and oh how I fucking wanted her in every way.

This was the kind of brick wall I refused to ram my head against anymore, though.

“I don’t think it matters now.”

She sighed and rubbed harder. “Okay.”

“Okay you will not follow me?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t need to follow you. I know where you go.”

“Evelyn,” I groaned. “You drive me mad, angel. Please, please listen.”

“I hear you,” she replied.

“That is not the same thing.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, stalling there for longer than they ever had. She leaned in, bringing her face close. The flecks of gold in her deep-brown eyes reflected the light streaming in from the windows. I wanted to trace the high, straight bridge of her nose with my finger then my lips. She didn’t seem to like a lot of touch. Would she like that?

Blyat.

This was why. Exactly this.

I had to leave her alone, or I’d be drawn back into the same place. I should have texted her. What had I been thinking?

You know what you were thinking, motherfucker. You wanted any excuse to be near her again.

“I’m curious about you, Ivan Sokolov,” Evelyn whispered.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her guileless expression any longer. Curiosity was good for cats. I wanted a lot more with her.

Too much to allow her to prance around me like it didn’t matter.

Chapter Twenty

Evelyn

Delilah walked into my room after dinner. I was almost finished listening to a Russian lesson, so I held up one finger. She sat on my bed, her back against the wall, waiting for me. When I was alone, I practiced speaking aloud, but I wasn’t confident enough in my grasp of the language to try in front of someone else.

Not that Delilah knew Russian. She was good with languages, though. She would be able to tell if my accent was trash.

The lesson came to an end, and I placed my headphones on my desk. Crossing the small room, I climbed onto the bed and sat diagonal from my sister, my back against the headboard.

“What language are you learning now?” she asked.

“Russian. I’ve been taking lessons for a few weeks.”

Languages were a minor hobby of mine. I was taking German in school and had learned Spanish and French through listening to programs on my phone. A lot of things in my life were challenging, but this was something that came naturally to me.