Page 73 of Crave Me

“What do you mean?” she asks. Her hand stills over my shoulder. “Wait, you don’t mean every time you had sex?”

I shrug. “She liked to be clean.”

“Evan, there’s a difference between clean and walking around with a stick rammed up your ass. It’s a miracle you could bend her over.”

“She could be intense,” I agree. “But it’s not my intent to disparage her. Sex with her, and with Aliyah—”

“Who’s Aliyah?”

“She was the woman before Saundra.” I smirk. “She liked to be clean, too, and would dress immediately after we finished.

“Holy shit. Are all English women like that?”

“Only the women I seemed to attract.” I don’t admit why I stayed with them as long as I did. They were safe, I didn’t have to worry they’d find someone else to entertain them while I work. Although that epiphany only appeared after I found Wren.

I gather the strands of hair dangling against her cheek, allowing them to glide between my fingers. “Before you, sex was something of a task, an attempt to be intimate for the sake of intimacy. That’s not what I feel when I’m with you. When we make love, it’s just one more thing that brings us closer.”

“I think I know what you mean,” she replies, her more serious demeanor returning. “But when we’re together like this, it’s extreme. I like it, don’t get me wrong. I’m just tired of having sex and not much else. It’s why I’ve held off being with you. I want us to be better than that.”

“We are,” I assure her. “You bring out the best in me, in and out of bed.” I keep my eyes on hers to prove I mean what I say. “As much as I’ve lived, I wasn’t alive until I met you.”

She clutches my arms as they wind around her. “You really are too good to be true.”

“I don’t know about that,” I admit, sweeping my jaw along the curve of her neck. “What I do know is you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A small gasp releases from her lips. I can’t tell if she means to laugh or cry, but it’s the latter that worries me. My arms tighten around her. “Tell me what happened at your house.”

Her small fingernails pass along my forearms. “There’s not much to tell. My neighbors called my brothers when they heard the crash and saw the damage. No one saw anything.” She shakes her head. “But it’s not like we don’t know who did it. God, I guess that was him following me.”

Her voice drifts as if picturing the damage. “Curran came over along with another cop who filed a report. Angus and Seamus boarded up the window and cleaned the mess. They’re going to find a replacement when Home Depot opens. I’ll have to leave work early tomorrow.” She steals a glimpse at the clock, making a face. “I mean later today.”

“You’re not returning to your house without me.”

“I won’t be alone. My brothers will be there since Finnie’s away.”

“I don’t care. Based on everything that’s happened, you’re not driving there alone.” My tone is sharp and absolute.

Hers remains patient and as soft as her touch. “Evan, you have the biggest deal in your company’s history taking place at noon.”

“So have them meet us later.”

“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” she says. “Especially when your competitors are going to be scrambling to steal potential clients and push their products at a cheaper rate. You have to be ready to strike and keep the momentum of this sale going.”

“I will,” I assure her. “But not at the expense of your safety. When we return to your house, I want you to gather your things and move in with me.”

“I can’t move in with you because some asshole’s making trouble for me.”

“It’s not because of him. It’s for us and what we’re becoming.” Her hesitation threads in the space between us, not that I’m surprised. While Wren has given a great deal of herself, she’s never bared herself to me in the way I most want. The guard around her soul remains.

I nuzzle her close and give her a moment. It’s something I often do. Many times, like now, it’s all she needs. The corners of her mouth lift into a soft smile. “I wish I could tell you yes,” she says.

“What’s stopping you?” I ask, stroking her spine.

“I’m a good Catholic girl,” she begins, only to grimace. “Scratch that. I suck at being Catholic. But me moving in with you, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I prop the few pillows that remain on the bed and pull her up with me. She reaches for the sheet and tucks it around us, settling against my chest where she belongs.

“From the start, nothing has progressed the way either of us likely intended,” I say, allowing each word to sink in. “But it has progressed and I love where it’s taken us.”