Work Text:
*****
Never have I ever
(Ooh, ooh yeah, yeah)
Been so over the moon
Love drunk stars in my eyes
Boy, it has to be you
But never have I ever
“Never Have I Ever” - Danielle Bradbery
*****
“Never have I ever stolen anything,” Violet tilts a soft smile at Evan as she gazes at him from her end of the couch. She picks at the corner of the label on her beer bottle with a thumbnail and waits to see if he drinks, thereby admitting his guilt, or not.
They play this game sometimes. Not ad nauseam, but a few rounds here and there while they’re hanging out and drinks are involved, or whichever board or card game they’ve been playing gets old (or in reality she gets too competitive and Evan gently changes course to avoid a dumb and needless fight).
And sometimes they play even when they aren’t together. She’d called him the other night while on shift after a bad call left her shaken, and she needed to hear his voice to help restore her equilibrium. Instead of rehashing the situation with him, she’d gotten comfortable in the front seat of the rig with her knees tucked up on the dash and said, “Never have I ever gotten into a fist fight,” as soon as Evan had picked up. It was late, and the sound of his warm, sleepy laugh in her ear had smoothed away the roughest edges of her foul mood. Then he’d told her all about the time he punched the catcher of an opposing team for saying racist shit about one of his teammates. Evan had had no regrets, and told her the detention and two-game suspension had been completely worth it.
Evan’s bottle remains firmly on the coffee table, one eyebrow arching up in a challenge. Of course he’s never stolen anything. With a sigh, Violet lifts the beer to her mouth and takes a drink. “A thief, Mikami? Tsk, tsk,” he playfully scolds. “I knew you were trouble.”
Violet rolls her eyes at his teasing. “Alright, Taylor Swift. Do you want the story or not?” Per their own made-up rules with this game, whoever committed the act in question must provide the details surrounding the incident. Most times, they end up laughing hysterically at all the stupid things they’ve done in their lives, but sometimes the subject matter is heavier, leading to more serious and intimate conversations. So while this game may seem silly to onlookers, the bottom line is they’ve gotten to know each other much better by playing it.
He casually draws her feet into his lap, absently stroking her ankle with his fingers. “Yes, I would very much like to hear about your stint as a petty thief.”
“Ha ha,” she says dryly. “When I was in 6th grade, my mom had a rule about makeup and wouldn’t let me wear any until 7th. While we were out shopping one day, I begged her to buy me a lip gloss. Please, please, please just one little tube of lip gloss. It was the same one my best friend had, and I so badly wanted to match her. But my mom’s stance was firm, and I knew she wasn’t going to budge.”
“Stubbornness is a family trait, I see,” he deadpans, chuckling when she tries to free a foot to kick his thigh. He holds on tight and flashes his dimples at her by way of apology. They’re far more effective at disarming her than they have any right to be. It’s unfair, honestly, how distracted she becomes, still, over his good looks. “Sorry, please continue,” he encourages.
Violet scoots down so she’s lying on the sofa and wiggles her feet expectantly in his lap. “Are you actually going to rub my feet or just tease me?” she pouts. “I’m trying to share a story of my misspent youth with you here.”
Evan snorts. “Cut the shit. You were captain of the debate team and the robotics team. Listen to you,” he teases, rolling his eyes at her. “Misspent youth. Did I miss the part about you being in the drama club, too?” He tickles the bottom of her foot and she bursts into a wild, shrieking laugh, wriggling against the cushions.
“Stop!” she pleads through her giggles. Evan complies, holding his hands up in mock surrender, a grin spreading across his face. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. Let me rephrase. I’m telling you about a moment of preteen rebellion.”
She doesn’t like to admit it outloud, but she's glad Evan calls her on her bullshit and doesn’t let her get away with things she shouldn’t. All of the other guys she dated before him had let her run roughshod over them. Look how well those turned out.
Evan resumes rubbing her feet and nods his approval. “Better.”
He hits a particularly sweet spot with his thumb on the ball of her foot, and she loses all track of thought, moaning appreciatively and arching like a satisfied cat into the cushions. “Damn, that feels good.” It’s all the encouragement he evidently needs to continue, and he repeats the move on her other foot this time. “What were we talking about?”
Flashing an impish smirk towards her, he continues his massage. “Lip gloss—6th grade.”
“Right. Um, so anyway—I was just furious with my mom at the time. She told me to go grab shampoo and conditioner, so I walked down the makeup aisle first and slipped the tube of gloss I wanted into my purse. At first it was exhilarating, you know? In that preteen way of thumbing your nose at your parents and thinking you know better. I swear, my heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought for sure my mom could hear it and know what I’d done. But we made it through the check out, then I had another brief moment of panic as we walked through the doors, certain that the security sensors would go off and then I’d have to go to Target jail.” She giggles at the thought. “The alarms never went off, though, so I knew I was home free.”
She takes a beat, enjoying the view and feel of his hands massaging her feet. When she glances up, Evan’s watching her expectantly, as though he knows how the story ends, but is patiently waiting for her to tell him all the same. “As soon as we got out to the car, I felt the guilt feasting on my insides. I’d never experienced anything like it before. Still, I possessed a healthy sense of self-preservation for a 12 year old, so rather than confess and get grounded, I asked her if I could run back inside and buy a drink with my money. She said I could, so I went back and paid for the lip gloss and a Dr. Pepper.”
That draws a low, quiet laugh from him. “I had a hunch that you’d ended up doing the right thing.”
“Hmm,” she says dubiously. “You have a lot of faith in preteen Violet.”
Evan shrugs, keeping his eyes on her feet in his lap. “I have a lot of faith in you all the time.” Then he lifts his gaze to hers, hazel eyes warm and steady, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
My god, this man. Sometimes she swears he’s too good to be true, that this is all a dream she’s bound to wake up from any moment. But he’s here, and real, rubbing her feet, and saying the kindest things while looking at her like she hung the moon and stars and, hell, maybe even all the planets, too. Evan makes her feel things she’s not quite ready to put into words, but they’re already there, tucked away safely in her heart for someday.
For now, though, she’s going to change the subject. Violet answers his smile with one of her own. “It’s your turn.”
“Right. My turn.” He’s quiet for a moment while he considers his next never have I ever. His hands have progressed north of her feet and are now blazing a trail up her calf muscle. She’s more than happy to be putty beneath his very capable hands. “Never have I ever…been kicked out of a museum,” he finishes, playfully wagging his eyebrows at her.
Amused, Violet purses her lips in a crooked smirk. “Guess we’re both drinking since it happened last month on our date.”
“Huh,” Evan says innocently, his grin anything but. “So it did.” He reaches for his beer on the coffee table.
He’d surprised her one night with tickets to an adults only evening at the Museum of Science & Industry. She’d been on cloud nine the whole time, geeking out over most of the exhibits, usually elaborating to him on more of the science behind everything beyond the broad level listed on the walls and placquards.
While they were in the Whispering Gallery, separated across the room with their backs to one another, he’d whispered, “You’re sexy as hell when you talk nerdy to me.” The sound traveled across the room and made her skin flush in arousal. Then, he’d come up behind her, lips against the shell of her ear, and said, “Come with me,” before tugging her out of the exhibit and into a dark corner where they’d made out heavily, hands and lips everywhere, until a security guard asked them to leave.
That didn’t deter them for long, however. Soon after they’d left the museum, Evan had turned his SUV into the parking lot of an empty warehouse and pulled her into the backseat, where she had tugged up her dress and he had hurriedly unzipped his pants, their moans fogging up the windows as she rode him for all he was worth.
“What a fun date that was.” Violet smiles mischievously over the top of her beer, and contemplates crawling into his lap for a sequel.
“Top tier night, definitely,” he agrees in a low voice. Evan’s heated gaze meets her eyes, and he slides his hand up her thigh.
“Okay, last one, then we can do something about that look on your face.”
His answering grin is full-on filthy, but still he asks, “And what look is that?”
“The one that screams let me get you naked so I can do unspeakable things to your body,” she replies. Truth be told, she couldn’t care less about asking him another question right now. She wants to get naked and do a number of unspeakable things with him, too. Sometimes, however, she enjoys teasing him and drawing out the inevitable. Getting him worked up, delaying gratification, whips him into a frenzy of barely restrained desire that always, always pays off in the best way possible. For both of them.
“My face says that, does it?” he asks, humor lilting his voice.
She shrugs, taking a pull from her beer. “We see what we want to see, babe.” Evan snatches the bottle from her hand, setting it beside his on the coffee table. “Hey, I was drinking—” she starts to protest, but the words die in her throat as he wraps her legs around his waist and pins her beneath his body on the couch. “...that. Can I help you?”
“Mhmm,” he counters, shifting until his hips are solidly nestled between her thighs, his arms bracketing her head to hold up most of his weight. “You most definitely can help me.” He brushes a teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth, then another on her cheek, followed by a trail of warm, slow kisses down to the hinge of her jaw where he lingers, dangerously close to the spot behind her ear that nearly makes her purr. She knows if he kisses her there this charade of playing hard to get—or whatever it is that she’s doing—is over. Evan knows it, too. Shameless bastard.
“Excuse you, it’s still my turn,” she protests weakly, nudging his shoulders with the palms of her hands, and turning her head to shield her neck from his hot, seeking lips. “Why are you playing dirty?”
Evan chuckles and she briefly shuts her eyes against the vibrations through her shirt. “Because you mentioned doing unspeakable things to your body, and now that’s all I can think about. And these CFD sweats you’ve got on really do it for me.”
Violet snorts. “Sure they do. You just like how easy they are to get off.” She wraps her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through his hair.
“Are we still talking about sweatpants, or you?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in mock skepticism. That smug tone shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, but she’s hard-pressed to find anything about Evan Hawkins that’s unattractive. It’s annoying.
“Don’t be an asshole,” she mumbles, glaring playfully at him. A wolfish grin flashes over his face a second before he lowers his mouth to hers in a slow, searing kiss, sending a wave of heady arousal through her body. She tugs at his hair hard enough to pull him off her lips, and she doesn’t care one bit for his satisfied smirk she feels against her mouth. “I haven’t asked my question yet.”
Evan nods, and proceeds to plant soft, open-mouthed kisses up the side of her neck. “Ask it, then,” he murmurs in her ear then catches her earlobe between his teeth. Fuck!
It would be so easy to let it go and give in to the promises he’s making with his mouth right now. But she mulishly digs in and racks her brain for a question, which is decidedly more difficult to do with Evan lying on top of her and slipping his hand enticingly beneath her shirt.
Her mind conjures up a hilarious and absurd statement that’s sure to be a no-go for him. At least if she were a betting woman, she’d put all her money on this not being true. At any rate, she’ll have followed through, which is important to her, and then they can go at it for real on his couch. Win-win! “Never have I ever performed a striptease.”
She laughs a little, reflexively, expecting Evan to do the same. Instead he freezes on top of her for an awkward beat before releasing a frustrated groan. The sound presses into her skin, and she swears she hears him follow up with you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Wait a minute. Does that mean what she thinks it means?
“Hold up!” Violet slides her hands down to grasp the sides of his face, lifting his head to meet his eyes. Seeking truth in them is rarely a difficult task, and right now is no exception. Even if his eyes didn’t give it away, the pink tint flushing his cheeks and sheepish smile gracing his lips definitely would have. Evan Hawkins has performed a striptease in his life. She’s floored by this news. And positively delighted by it! “Evan. Michael. Hawkins. You’ve got some explaining to do!”
“Did you just three-name me?” Evan pushes himself off her and swipes his bottle off the table before sitting back down in his original spot on the couch. “You have the worst timing,” he grouses, draining the rest of his beer in a grumpy huff.
Violet sits up, too, scooting closer and tucking her knees underneath her. She feels lit up inside like a child on Christmas morning. “Do I, though? I think my timing is uncanny and, frankly, impeccable. I’ve never been more excited for storytime in my whole entire life!” Beaming a smile at him, she tugs impatiently on his arm. “C’mon, tell me! Those are the rules!”
Evan’s lips twitch and he scrubs a hand over his face. “You are relentless.”
“Um, hello! You’ve met me…this is not news.”
“Fair point,” he says, the left corner of his mouth curling up. He pats her knee, leaves his hand there, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric. “Hate to break it to you, but this story isn’t that exciting.” He shrugs and says, “I lost a bet.”
Okay, no. That doesn’t sound very exciting. BUT EVAN HAWKINS DID A STRIPTEASE! She can’t think of anything more exciting or hilarious! Her brain can’t get over it. She needs more! Every minute detail. “Don’t be stingy with the details! I shared every last boring one about stealing lip gloss. You took your clothes off and shook your ass to music. One of these things is not like the other!”
His head falls back and he sort of laughs up at the ceiling as though he can’t believe this is his life. Admittedly, he does this a lot in her presence. Whatever, okay? Their lives are better with each other, and they both know it. “Alright, alright,” he says finally, casting amused eyes in her direction. “When you’re bored, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh, my god—get on with it!” she implores, nudging his thigh.
“So, it was my senior year of college, and every fall we had the Beer Olympics. You had to play in teams, and typically it was athletes who played, but that year we had a few fraternities, too.”
“What events are in the Beer Olympics?” Violet asks casually. “This sounds like something I’d be good at.” She’s gifted with a brief flash of his dimples.
“Uh…flip cup, beer pong, quarters, drunk Jenga—” he starts, and then she promptly interrupts.
“For the record, I would be amazing at all of these.” It’s not bragging when it’s the truth. “Continue.”
The dramatic eye roll accompanied by a sarcastic smirk only makes her laugh. “Great. We’ll play sometime. Do you want this story or not?”
Violet nods enthusiastically, then presses her lips together, and mimes locking them and tossing the key over her shoulder.
“God, you are ridiculous,” he laughs, squishing her cheeks together with one hand. She goes full ham and makes fish lips at him until he laughs again, playfully shoving her face away. “Anyway…my baseball teammates and I had won this thing three years in a row, so we went in pretty confident. Then these pricks from Pi Kappa Alpha show up running their mouths and acting like they own the place. Their general rich kid dipshittery kinda soured the tone of the day. And my buddy, Brandon, hated this guy, Fox—”
She quickly mimes unlocking her lips to interrupt once more with a buzzer sound. “The hell kind of a name is Fox?”
“One fitting for a fuckin’ douchebag,” he counters. “His last name was Foxworth the fourth or something equally pretentious. Everyone called him Fox.”
Violet grimaces, scrunching her nose up in disgust. “Gross. By the way, this story is not boring in the least. I’m picturing you and your baseball buddies squaring off with these PIKE pricks like the Jets and Sharks. When you’re a Jet you’re a Jet all the way—” she sings, shimmying her shoulders along to the rhythm.
Evan barks out a laugh and throws up his hands. “Jesus Christ, it wasn’t West Side Story! You know, you don’t have a weekly quota of Sondheim references to hit, right? It’s perfectly acceptable—encouraged even—to let the moment pass.”
The tips of his ears turn bright pink and she knows she’s embarrassed him, which wasn’t her intention at all. She cards her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back off his forehead, and lowers her hand to cup his cheek, turning his face towards her. “Hey, the fact that you played Tony in high school is one of my favorite things about you. Seriously. It’s so fun to imagine you performing on stage. Just like this striptease story I can’t wait to hear the rest of, and for which I will finally shut up and let you finish.”
“Sure, I believe you,” he retorts sarcastically, turning his head to playfully bite her hand still cupping his face.
A grin curves her mouth and she uses her free hand to draw an X over her heart. “I swear.”
Evan hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap, and settling her against him until she’s tucked under his arm with her back against the side of the couch, and her legs draped comfortably across his. Another favorite thing about him is that he’s super tactile with her. He never seems to go for very long without touching her in some capacity. She hopes that never stops.
“So, Brandon hated Fox…” she starts, prompting him to pick up the thread.
He waves that part away. “Girlfriend drama there. Not important. But Fox popped off that they were going to win this whole thing and end our winning streak. You can imagine how well that went over with the whole baseball team.”
“Sounds aggro,” she chimes in.
He huffs a sardonic laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong. Anyway, Brandon asked if they cared to bet on it, and the PIKES were all on board. We were cocky about our chances of winning, so Brandon let Fox set the terms of the bet. Losers had to perform a choreographed strip tease at the Tri Delts fall fling.”
Violet smirks. “Choreographed like a Magic Mike routine or what?”
His lips press into a thin line, and he glances away as he says, “Uh…no, that movie hadn’t been made yet. More like Chippendales.”
She turns her head, giggles into his shoulder. “Right, I forgot you’re old.” He growls, reminding her so much of Roy Kent in that moment that her heart soars in her chest. Violet tips her chin up to press a kiss to his neck. “C’mon, grandpa, finish the story.” He pokes her in the ribs and she laughs again.
“You’re mean.”
“You’re my favorite,” she murmurs into his neck, pressing another kiss there.
His hand follows down her ribs and settles over the curve of her hip. “I’m skipping ahead. So we’re all tied up going in the last round—flip cup. That’s the game Brandon and I were best at, and the others on our team were solid, too, so we were feeling good. Also drunk, which only added to our over-inflated confidence,” he adds, chuckling. “It’s neck and neck and it comes down to me and Fox. I toss back the beer and start flipping my cup, and the damn thing falls off the table and begins to roll away. I dive to the ground to get it and scramble back to the table, but it’s too late. That douche canoe Fox had beaten me.”
“Not Fox!” Violet cries, hoping her faux indignation comes across as supportive and not condescending. From the side eye he gives her, she’s not entirely sure she hit her mark. Truly, this story is a hoot, and she hasn’t even heard the best part yet. “Then what happened?”
“I was pissed! They were whooping and hollering like they’d won the goddamn World Series. Those entitled fucks wouldn’t know the hard work and dedication required of elite athletes if it sat on their faces. I knew the terms of the bet were designed to make us look stupid and embarrass the shit out of us, but I wasn’t going out like that.”
The anger and passion in his voice is really turning her on. And now she’s thinking about sitting on his face and—dammit she’s getting sidetracked. “I love this passion. Tell me more.”
“We did what any good athlete would do. Devised a game plan, studied film, and practiced our balls off. We worked on it for weeks. The day of the fall fling, the PIKES showed up looking smug and talking trash, no doubt ready to document our humiliation on video. But then we started the routine and the Tri Delts went nuts for it. The PIKES all looked stunned and, honestly, pretty angry that we were good.”
Violet’s eyes round in surprise as she digests this. “So let me get this straight. You studied male strippers, choreographed a whole ass routine, and practiced until you were good…all out of spite?”
A devilish grin flashes on his face. “Hell yeah!”
She throws her head back and laughs—cackles more like—until tears leak from the corners of her eyes. “Oh my god! I never knew you possessed this level of pettiness, Evan. It’s the best!”
Evan tips an imaginary cap. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, and joins in the laughter with her.
Violet wipes away the tears as her laughter settles. “Also, you really undersold that story in the beginning, lying and telling me I’d be bored. Seriously? That story was everything I never knew I needed in my life.”
The cutest smile in his arsenal lights up his face as he casually lifts one shoulder and says, “Glad I could entertain you.”
Violet swings her legs down and stands up before turning around and sinking back down in his lap, legs astride his. She combs her fingers through his hair as she gazes down at him, and his hands wrap possessively around her hips. “I know another way you can entertain me,” she murmurs in a low voice, eyes flicking down to his mouth. He wets his lips and swallows, and she watches, intently, as his Adam’s apple bobs in the column of his throat.
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek, his jaw, and slowly works her way back until her mouth brushes against his ear. “You can do your dance for me.”
Evan sighs, disappointed, and sags into the couch. “Violet, c’mon. No. No way!”
“Why not?” she asks, sitting up and fixing him with a pleading look.
“Uh, let’s see. Because it was a long time ago, it’s embarrassing, and I don’t want to!”
Her hands bracket the sides of his face, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. “But you worked so hard and you said you guys were good. I really want to see it. Please?” He doesn’t reply, so it’s not an immediate no at least.
He shakes his head and casts his eyes down away from hers. “You’re just going to make fun of me.”
“No, I won’t!” Dubious eyes flick up to her instantly, pinning her to the spot. “Okay, I can’t promise that I won’t laugh at all, but I won’t make fun of you. I promise. And we’ll get naked as soon as you’re done. I’m sure you’re going to be so insanely hot that I’ll be throwing my panties at you before it’s all over.”
Evan takes a deep breath, and she can tell he’s giving this whole proposition serious consideration. “I don’t know…”
Violet presses her hands together in front of her chest and pouts her lips a little, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Evan? Pretty please? I’m begging. I will do anything you want in return. Anything!” His demeanor shifts slightly, and she thinks she may have him hooked. At the very least he’s intrigued.
“Anything?” he asks, one dark eyebrow arched questioningly.
Yep. Definitely hooked. Time to reel him in. A self-satisfied smirk takes hold of her mouth and she nods. “Anything you want, Chief.” He stares her down, while her mind reels with filthy, delicious possibilities.
After a long beat of the staring game, he finally blinks. “Deal!” he says, holding out his hand. “Shake on it.”
Slipping her hand in his, she enjoys the firm grip of his handshake, all too familiar with how those hands feel gripping other parts of her. She’s already turned on. “Kiss on it, too?”
A dark chuckle rumbles out of his chest and he gives her a kiss far more chaste than she’s angling for. “You want this dance or not?”
“Absolutely I do.” She briefly considers asking him whether she should be grabbing her stash of dollar bills but thinks better of it, instead hopping off his lap and holding out her hands to help him stand up.
“Help me move the coffee table,” he instructs, so she does. She wonders just how intense this routine is going to be if they’re moving furniture out of the way in his already oversized living room. But she doesn’t question him out of fear of spooking him into putting the kibosh on the whole thing. Evan grabs a dining chair and carries it over for her. “Alright. Sit here.”
Oh. She’s not sure what she expected, but kinda thought she’d be chilling on the couch. If she’s sitting in this chair specifically, then it hints that she might play a role in this. A twist of arousal spirals in her belly at the prospect. Her experience with male strippers is limited to the first Magic Mike movie and seeing her friend, Holly, get humped aggressively on stage in a club during her 23rd birthday by a ripped, shirtless dancer. A nervous laugh bubbles out of her before she can stop it and she sits down in the chair, clamping her lips shut.
Evan whirls around and doesn’t look impressed. “You’re already laughing?”
“I swear I’m not laughing at you! It’s nervous, excited energy that’s all.”
He grumbles something under his breath while he disappears into his bedroom for a few minutes. When he returns, he’s wearing his fitted Cubs baseball cap backwards. That’s her Kryptonite, and she doesn’t give a good damn how basic that makes her. Coupled with his gray CFD sweats and navy CFD zip-up hoodie, he’s basically a walking wet dream for her. But she digresses. He’s also wearing sneakers now, and she wonders again just how intense this routine is.
“For the record, I did not pick this song. It was in the terms of the bet,” he says, connecting his phone to the bluetooth speaker on the entertainment center. He shakes his head in disbelief, and Violet can tell he’s nervous. But already she loves the fact that he’s sharing this with her. “Ready or not, here goes.”
A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the
A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the
A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the
A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the
“Oh my god, is this—”
“I Wanna Sex You Up? Sure as shit is,” Evan replies tersely, shaking his shoulders and arms to loosen up. Violet hides her grin behind her hand.
The music kicks in, and Evan’s body moves to the rhythm. A bit restrained at first, or maybe rusty from trying to recall a routine from years ago, she’s not sure. But then it appears as though a switch has been flipped, and he decides to shrug off any reservations he has about dancing for her, fully committing to the performance. He does this spin move with renewed enthusiasm that ends with a full body roll, and holy shit she didn’t know he could do such things.
Come inside take off your coat I'll make you feel at home
Now let's pour a glass of wine cause now we're all alone
I've been waiting all night so just let me hold you close to me
'Cause I've been dying for you girl to make love to me
He slowly walks towards her, eyes hot and intense and trained on her face, tugging down the zipper of his sweatshirt. Bending at the knees, stance wide, Evan moves his hips in a torturously slow circle while shrugging out of his sweatshirt. Spinning it around like a lasso twice over his head should be hilarious. Would be on any other day. Instead she feels a little slack-jawed and horny watching him move this way, heat very quickly starting to pool between her legs. The sweatshirt gets tossed aside, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt, and her greedy eyes follow the path his hands take as they slowly, slowly glide over his chest and abdomen, and down lower still to his groin. He cups himself through his sweats and thrusts his hips once before rolling back up to his full height. “Well shit,” she mutters under her breath, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Girl you make me feel real good
We can do it 'til we both wake up
Girl you know I'm hooked on you
And this is what I'll do
Evan backs up and does another spin move, this time dropping to his knees before sensuously rolling his torso again. Wow, what the fuck! He’s been hiding these surprising dance moves from her, and she’d be mad about it if she weren’t so impressed and aroused. His hands reach for the hem of his white t-shirt, lifting it up just enough for a glimpse of his abs as he arches his back and rubs his chest, thrusting his hips up again. It doesn’t matter that she knows what’s underneath his clothes, that she’s seen and touched (and kissed) it all. She’s mesmerized by him peeling off his shirt and throwing it at her. The hat remains on his head—thank god—and the sight of him shirtless in those gray sweats and hat, writhing on his knees makes her throat dry.
I wanna sex you up
(A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the)
All night, girl you make me feel good
I want to (let me rub you down)
I wanna sex you up
From his knees he pops up back on his feet, still squatted down. He spins again like he’s some kind of goddamn professional or something, and then he pitches forward, falling into a push-up position that makes his shoulders look next level hot as he holds himself up. Then he completely blows her mind by letting his knees drop down, spreading them wide, and rolls his hips against the floor in a humping motion. “Jesus Christ,” she swears, feeling her nipples pebble. He does it again, moving across the floor and eating up the distance between them as he does. He shifts and gives her a side view of the action, and she wonders if this is what he looks like when he fucks her. There’d been no doubt before this dance started that he knows how to properly use his hips for maximum pleasure while in bed, but seeing it from this angle is blowing her mind. She’d never considered filming them having sex before, but now she kinda wants to. Would Evan be into that? Violet grips the sides of the chair and leans forward, enjoying the brief friction it provides between her legs.
Let me take off all your clothes
Disconnect the phone so nobody knows, yeah
Let me light a candle so we can make it better
Makin' love until we drown, dig
Girl you know it feels real good
We can do it 'til we both wake up
Girl you know I'm hooked on you
And this is what I'll do
Evan stands again, closing the gap between them with a swagger-filled walk that should be illegal. He’s right in front of her now. Close enough to touch if she wanted to. And she wants to. She doesn’t, and her hands grip tighter to the chair while she watches the hypnotic swivel of his hips and torso to the beat of the song. Glancing up, she finds him watching her, a predatory look in his eyes as he makes an exaggerated show of straddling her lap in the chair. Almost touching her, but not quite, his body heat surrounding her in the most tantalizing way. He thrusts his hips once, twice, three times towards her chest and it’s so hot she can practically feel her panties melting off her body. The smirk on his face tells her he knows it, too. It’s cocky, but frankly, he’s earned it. Reaching for her hands, he draws them slowly to his chest. His skin is hot beneath her touch, or maybe she’s the one on fire. It’s hard to know for certain. He rubs them down the hard planes of his stomach. And while she already knows how many muscles are there, she counts them anyway while her fingers map his skin.
I wanna sex you up
(A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the)
Makin' love until we drown 2
I wanna sex you up
(A tick tock, ya don't stop-stop, to the)
(I know you not gonna play that song)
Not of her own volition, her hands fall away from his hips when he backs up, just out of reach. She resists the urge to pout, but it’s a near thing. Evan puts one hand on his hat and drops his head while his body pops and rolls and swivels to the rhythm. She’s not sure how long this song is, but a part of her would like for it to never end. He is so hot, it almost feels unfair. He squats down again, eyeing her up and down like she’s his prey, then grabs her ankles and lifts her legs into the air. Spreading them apart, he crowds into the space between, hooking his arms under her knees, and he lifts her slightly off the chair to grind against her. It’s torturously slow, but no less effective. “Fuck!” she breathes out, gripping his shoulders desperately.
Evan growls in the back of his throat and slinks his hands down to grab her ass, yanking her hips into his. He’s hard in his sweats and she wraps her legs around his waist while he thrusts against her. Every nerve ending in her body is firing with need, arousal flooding every cell. She’s dying to rid their bodies of the barriers between them so he can fuck her properly. And that’s exactly what it’s going to be now after all this foreplay. The time for slow tonight is dead and buried. Hard and fast is what she wants.
“Evan, I can’t take anymore,” she pants. “Please.”
“Please what?” he counters, his voice low and rough, eyes locked on hers. The hunger reflecting there matches her own. She can feel the tension in his shoulders under her fingertips. Muscles coiled so tight like he could snap at any moment. She knows he’s seeking permission from her. That as soon as she grants it, that last rapidly fraying tether on his sanity will snap and he will devour her. God, she cannot wait.
“Fuck me.”
He lunges for her mouth in an instant, his kiss deep and demanding and desperate. Even though she’d asked for it, the rough urgency with which he kisses her takes her by surprise. In a good way. He’s just as worked up as she is. Violet licks into his mouth, stroking her tongue along his as their kisses turn messy and obscene. Her hand grabs the back of his neck for leverage and she cants her hips greedily into his, pulling a guttural moan from them both at the friction.
Evan breaks the kiss and Violet isn’t having it, chasing after his mouth for more. He obliges by catching her bottom lip between his teeth and gently biting down, and a primal urge pulses between her thighs. He stands fully as the song fades out, and Violet drops her feet down to the ground, slowly sliding down his body in the process. Evan groans again, impatiently rucking the t-shirt up her body. “Off,” he commands with a ragged breath, and she lifts her arms so he can pull it off of her.
His eyes fall to her black lace bra. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he says gruffly, reaching up to palm her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her stiff nipples.
A needy moan escapes her lips and she arches into his touch, desperate for his warm hands on her flesh. Reaching her arms behind her, she quickly unfastens the hooks as Evan tugs the straps down her arms, letting the bra fall to the floor. She grabs one of his hands and places it on her breast, laying her hand on top of his and squeezing firmly, indicating how she wants to be touched. “Yes,” she hisses, reaching for his hips to pull him closer. “Like that.” His other hand sinks into her hair and drags her mouth back to his.
Violet hooks one hand around his neck, fingers pressing firmly while he devours her mouth, making her head swim. Her other hand reaches between them to rub him through his sweats. She swallows his moan and slips her hand into the waistband to stroke his length over his boxer briefs. It only takes a few strokes before he circles her wrist and pulls it out of his pants.
“Quit,” he orders against her lips, his voice strained. “I’m already on a knife’s edge here and I want to fuck you.” Evan dips his head and nips at her collarbone, then licks a stripe up her neck, his tongue finally laving the spot that makes her fall apart. Goosebumps rise over her skin, and if he doesn’t get her off soon she’s going to lose her mind.
“Me too,” she replies breathily, hungry for his touch. “I’ve been wet since you walked out wearing that hat. And don’t get me started on how hot your dancing was.” She feels the grin against her neck a second before his teeth sink in. “Fuck! Do that again.”
No doubt he’s going to leave his mark behind, but she can’t bring herself to care, not while he’s making her mind swim and her cunt throb so effortlessly. Violet grabs hold of his wrist and shoves his hand between her legs, gasping when he cups her through her sweatpants. “Evan please,” she begs. “Please touch me.”
“Wish I had more control right now,” he tells her, his deep voice low and hypnotic in her ear, making her arch against him. If Violet weren’t so completely gone herself, she would bask in this rare opportunity to see Evan so beautifully unraveled before her. “I’d love to draw this out. Your begging makes me so goddamn crazy.”
Thankfully, he isn’t in possession of better self control right now, and he grants her mercy, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her underwear. His fingers glide along her slick folds, and a filthy moan tears out of him at what he finds. “Fuck. You always get so wet for me. You’re soaked.”
A delicious shiver races up her spine, and Violet keens at his touch. It’s not enough, not nearly, and she jerks her hips against his hand, greedy for more. “Evan…please.”
Unceremoniously, Evan plunges two fingers into her cunt, holding them still, and Violet gasps at the sensation that’s closer to what she wants, but still so far away from what she needs. “Is this what you want?” he asks, voice gravelly, as his thumb traces a lazy circle over her clit. For someone who claims to have a tenuous grip on his self control right now, he’s doing a damn good job of wringing every last drop of it out, and driving her to the brink in the process.
Violet swallows thickly and turns her head, her mouth glancing against his. “More,” she pants, tracing her tongue along the seam of his lips, hoping to encourage him to get with the program. Her fingers curl tightly where they hold the back of his neck, while drawing her other hand up to cling to his shoulder, and bucking her hips wantonly into his hand.
Finally, his merciful side takes over, and he begins pumping his fingers in and out of her. Slowly at first, gradually building speed, sinking deeper and deeper, until the heel of his hand bumps her clit and makes her head spin. “Yes,” she moans, jerking against him as sparks skitter up her spine. She can feel her release gaining steam, coiling low in her belly while he fucks her with his fingers. “I’m getting close. Don’t stop!”
Burying her nose into his neck, she inhales the woodsy scent of his soap that lingers on his skin, mixed sensually with the thin sheen of sweat now covering his body after that dance and their current activities, and it’s absolutely intoxicating. She clutches him tighter, frantic for him as the sound of his fingers sliding wetly in and out of her body push her closer and closer to the edge of her release. Evan deftly crooks his fingers inside her body, repeating the motion until all the sounds and thoughts turn to white noise in her mind. Yes, yes, yes. Her entire body is wound so tightly, teetering on the edge of sanity. She’s so close. Evan presses the heel of his hand firmly to her clit again, rocking it back and forth while crooking his fingers faster, and that’s the magic combination she needs to push her over the edge. Every muscle in her body tenses as she hits her climax, and she comes with a shout that’s muffled against his skin.
His low chuckle is hot against her neck as she spasms around his fingers, and he doesn’t miss a beat as he pulls out of her, crowding his body against her as he backs them up toward the couch. Her mind is still hazy from her orgasm, moving with him on instinct and muscle memory alone, and suddenly his hands are gripping her hips and turning her so that her back is now pressed firmly, intimately against his front. His firm, muscled chest and strong arms encircle her, his hard cock poking insistently into her ass as his hands slide in opposite directions, one cupping her breast firmly and the other finding her heat through her sweats once again.
Evan murmurs her name under his breath as his hips rock against her ass.
“Fuck, Evan. C’mon.” Violet’s voice is breathy, needy, desperate, and her hands shove impatiently at her sweats and underwear to push them down over her hips.
In one smooth motion, Violet suddenly finds herself bent over the arm of the couch, her hands flying out to cushion herself as Evan’s hand slides firmly up her naked back, holding her down between her shoulder blades. “Damn, look at you,” he says gruffly. “I could come from this view alone.” His other hand glides over her ass, palming one side then the other, before trailing two fingers down her slit and pressing inside her. Violet cries out, the sound muted by a throw pillow, and she clenches around his fingers. “You're still so hot and wet.”
Evan removes his fingers and she looks over her shoulder in time to watch them disappear into his mouth to suck them clean. The filthy groan that spills past his lips makes her cunt ache with need. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed. He looks feral, predatory as he draws his fingers from his mouth with an obscene pop. Evan steps back from her body, just enough to hook his fingers into the waistband of his sweats. Violet’s greedy eyes follow the motions as he shucks down his sweats and boxers in one fell swoop, his erection bobbing between his legs.
The anticipation has been killing her. But she knows what she’s in for now. He’s going to positively rail her over the arm of his couch, and she couldn’t be happier about it. Evan losing control is one of her absolute favorite things, especially when it means he’s going to fuck her. Hard.
He closes in again, hands spanning her hips and yanking them towards him, her ass pressed in the air so he can line her entrance up with his cock. Yes. So close. Evan strokes himself once, twice, three times, a heady sight for her already overloaded senses. Grabbing the base of his cock, he slowly drags it up and down her slit, bumping the head purposefully against her sensitive clit, the teasing making her moan and arch. Her head falls forward when he repeats the motion, the sensation almost overwhelming. Then, much to Violet’s surprise and arousal, his hand lightly smacks her ass, three times in quick succession, as he lines himself up and pushes his cock slowly into her body until he’s fully sheathed inside. “Oh my god,” she groans, hands tightly gripping the pillow beneath her hands as she adjusts to him, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Fuck,” he draws out slowly, his voice wrecked with need. “Your pussy feels good.” Evan remains still for a moment, no doubt trying to wrangle some semblance of control as Violet clenches around him so deliciously. His hands firmly grip her hips again. A small scream escapes her lips as he pulls almost completely out of her, before forcefully thrusting back in, immediately setting a hard and relentless pace as he fucks her. “Shit, Violet. This is gonna be quick.”
Fine by her. Hard and fast is what she wanted, and he’s giving it to her in spades. His cock feels so good that she can already feel the embers of a second orgasm sparking. She arches her back, crying out when the change in angles hits her in just the right spot. “Yes, Evan!” Beads of sweat dot her temples under the curtain of hair in her face, and she tosses her head back. Evan tangles a fist in her hair and gently, but surely, tugs her upright until her back is flush with his chest again, one arm banding around her. “Goddamn,” she pants, blindly reaching back with one hand to touch his face.
Evan finally releases her hair after giving her one final tug, then lowers his hand and starts rubbing circles around her clit, the finesse in his rhythm faltering as he rapidly chases after his own release and a second one for her. His hips snap wildly, the sound of Evan’s grunts and their damp flesh slapping surrounding them. “Are you close?” he asks, mouth hovering over her ear, voice low and strained. Warm breath whooshes past his lips, tickling her neck, as he pounds into her. “Really hope you are.”
She lays her hand on top of his between her legs and helps guide his fingers a little to the left. There. That’s it. That’s where she needs him. Her walls start fluttering around his cock, and a few more passes of his fingertips send her careening over the edge, colors blooming behind her eyes as her orgasm spirals through her, broken moans ripping from her throat as she writhes uncontrollably.
A strangled noise rumbles out of him as the hand between her legs slides back to grip her hip. His fingers curl possessively into her skin, holding on to her so tightly. It’s hot and wonderful and she won’t hate any bruises she may find tomorrow. He’s frantic behind her now, and a half dozen hard thrusts later he comes inside her, her name spilling out of his mouth with a low roar.
Evan sags against her, his sweaty skin sticking to her in a way she doesn’t find remotely unpleasant. Burying his face in the fall of her hair, his lips press a kiss to the side of her neck, the tenderness a far cry from his primal manhandling of her just moments ago. He shudders against her, the aftershocks of his orgasm running through his body. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, placing another soft kiss on her skin, letting his lips linger deliciously.
This man will be the death of her, she swears. He does an entire striptease for her because she asked (begged, asked…tomato, tomahto), then fucks her into oblivion, making her come twice, and his first thought is she’s incredible? What a man her man is, indeed. She angles her head just so, enough to brush her lips over his. “So are you.”
His warm hand spans her hip intimately, his thumb rubbing soft circles on her flesh as he slides his softening cock out of her, his hand holding the tip to keep his come from dripping everywhere. Glancing down at himself and then at her, he chuckles darkly. “We’re a fucking mess.”
Violet tosses a blissed out grin over her shoulder and shrugs. “Worth it. That was damn good.”
Evan swipes his discarded t-shirt off the floor and quickly cleans himself off before tugging his boxers and sweats back up. “You want to high five me right now don’t you?” His smug, dimpled grin teasing her, and she barks out a laugh.
Oh for god’s sake. One time after he’d eaten her out in a variety of different positions and made her come so hard she could hardly talk or feel her legs for five minutes afterwards, she’d held up her hand for a high five when he’d asked her how she was doing. Now, every so often he teases her after sex, questioning whether or not it was high five worthy. It’s funny, and endearing, and she only pretends to be annoyed by it, especially since every time she and Evan get naked (or partially naked) it’s a ten out of ten, five stars, two thumbs-up kind of experience and they both damn well know it.
“I’d considered a high five for the striptease alone, but the two orgasms you just gave me definitely sealed the deal.”
Evan laughs and holds up his hand. Violet shakes her head, unable to fight back the smile that curls over her mouth, and slaps her palm against his.
Once she has cleaned up and brushed her teeth, Violet pads into his bedroom. She plugs her phone in on the nightstand before sliding into his bed, marveling once again how luxurious his high thread count sheets feel on her skin. She’d taken notice during their very first night together, all those months ago, while Evan’s head was buried between her thighs. She’d committed to memory how soft the sheets were beneath her touch while she fisted them in pleasure, appreciating the kind of man he is to buy such things for his home. She hasn’t stopped appreciating him, or his bed, since.
Her body is deliciously spent from earlier, but her mind is still annoyingly awake the way it always is after sex. She briefly considers reaching for her phone, then thinks better of it, knowing the endless scroll won’t do anything to settle her brain for sleep. Evan strolls in a moment later, naked save for the hat still on his head, and she can’t help but track his every move through the room. She’s not up for round two, but her eyes will always admire his lean, muscled body whenever it’s presented. He removes the hat, tossing it carelessly onto the loveseat with the pile of scattered laundry. Violet smiles to herself. In all this time together, the only flaw he seems to have is this perpetual pile of laundry that never gets put away. It’s annoyingly charming.
Evan clears his throat in an exaggerated fashion, and Violet’s eyes snap up to meet his. “What?” she asks, clearly caught like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar.
“You’re staring.”
Violet rolls onto her side to smile at him. “Admiring the view,” she corrects. “Respectfully.”
“That right?” He shakes his head, a huff of laughter escaping his lips. “Well, so long as it’s respectful,” he teases, grabbing a clean pair of boxer briefs and tugging them on.
Evan plugs in his phone as well, and switches off the lamp on his nightstand, pulling back the covers to crawl in beside her. The mattress barely dips under his weight, because much like his sheets, he’d gone top of the line. It’s her favorite place she’s ever slept (or done other activities in). Violet’s grateful for the cover of darkness that surrounds them, so she can hide without question the ridiculously cheesy grin that threatens to bloom after waxing poetic over Evan’s bed. And Evan himself, obviously.
She blinks as her eyes adjust to the dark, able now to make out the shadowy silhouette of his face, watching him adjust his pillows the same methodical way he does every night, his dark brows furrowed in concentration until finding a position for optimum comfort. He makes her completely happy in ways she never knew existed until she met him. Even in the ordinary and mundane.
Evan adjusts his pillow one final time, then reaches for her, inviting her into his space. So she goes freely, sliding closer until she’s tucked up beside him with her head on his chest and one leg snuggled between his, her arm slung across his torso. All night cuddling isn’t her jam. Never has been. She needs her space once it’s time to sleep, usually starfishing and taking up every inch on her side of the bed (and some of his). But she is a fan of cuddling him for a while. Long moments where nothing else exists but the two of them, cocooned in his bed, and belonging only to each other. He’s strong and safe and hers.
Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, a contented sigh exhales out of him while he traces lazy patterns along her shoulder with the pads of his fingers. In quiet moments like this, she wonders if he loves her. If he’s in love with her. Make no mistake, she feels loved by him. Evan shows her all the time, in myriad ways, how strong his feelings are for her. But he’s never said the words out loud. There was a moment, not that long ago, where she’d thought he might. The words seemed right there on the tip of his tongue. True to form, she’d panicked, acting like a spooked animal, turning into a total freak show to keep those words from spilling out of him. He’d stared at her as though he knew exactly what she was trying to do, and true to his form, sensing she needed more time before hearing such a declaration, he’d let it go.
Clearly she’s never said them either. To anyone besides her family. To be fair, she’s never felt for anyone else anything remotely close to what she feels for Evan. And she’s never made a habit out of saying things she doesn’t mean. Earlier in the evening she’d felt them while he rubbed her feet and told her he always has faith in her. And again and again in everything that followed after. Someday is beginning to feel awfully close to right now. That scares the shit out of her.
“What’s going through that head of yours?” Evan asks quietly.
There’s no surprise on her end over his question. He’d told her once that she thinks so loudly, then offered her a penny for a thought so he’d be clued in. She’d fondly teased him for his old timey expression before kissing him silly. Too tired to kiss him senseless again tonight, but not yet brave enough for the truth, she opts for something less risky. “Just wondering what my payment will be in return for your striptease earlier.”
A sleepy laugh rumbles in his chest, and she smiles at the sensation of it pressing against her cheek. “Oh, the possibilities,” he teases.
“That’s what I’m saying. Am I going to have to strip for you now?” she asks. She’s joking, but the prospect is kind of intimidating. Oh, who is she kidding? She’d probably get super into it and they’d have another night of hot sex. Sounds good to her.
“Uh...no, that’s not it,” he answers. He’s quiet for a beat before clearing his throat. “Thanks for putting that thought into my brain. Very tempting.”
She huffs out an amused, quiet laugh, and turns to prop her chin up on his chest so she can see his face. “You’re very welcome. Is it something naughty? Will I be scandalized?” she asks, hopefully.
He grins and kisses her forehead. “Truly scandalous, indeed,” he replies cryptically.
“Okay, well, color me intrigued. Have you been lying here concocting this payback?”
“No, I knew what I wanted as soon as you put anything on the table,” he says, his voice dropping low for emphasis.
He offers nothing more, and Violet’s curious mind races with various scenarios. Far too impatient to puzzle it out herself, but not above playing dirty to get him to talk, she slides her fingers from their resting spot on his ribs down to the cut of his Adonis belt, also known as the one and only spot on Evan’s body he’s ticklish. Her nails rake lightly over his skin, just above the waistband of his boxers, and his body jerks and squirms as a peal of laughter explodes out of him. “Fuck, don’t tickle me!” he laughs again, batting her hand away.
Her hand glides back up a safe distance away from his ticklish zone, and Violet fixes him with a pleading gaze. “Clue me in, then.”
Evan grumbles under his breath while he situates himself on his pillow again. Something about having been perfectly content and comfortable until she tickled him. His fake grumpiness is cute and all, but she also knows what he’s doing. “You’re stalling,” she says, and she has no possible idea why.
“I want you to be my date to my brother’s wedding,” he tells her.
Oh. Okay. That’s nowhere near the realm of possibilities she’d considered, but there’s hardly anything naughty or scandalous about his request. “Well, sure,” she replies, her voice breezy. “Weddings are fun and you’re a great date. When is it?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Next month.”
He’s being cagey about the details, and she can’t put her finger on why. She knows about the wedding in the vaguest of terms. Mostly that he has a brother, Ethan, and he’s getting married. He doesn’t live in Chicago, so she’s never met him save for the one time he’d called Evan on FaceTime while they were together, and Evan pulled her into the frame with him to introduce her. Ethan had smiled and jokingly asked how the hell Evan landed someone as pretty as her, giving off major annoying little brother vibes just for the sake of needling his big brother. She liked him immediately.
“Okay, let me know the date, and if I have to get a shift covered I will.” She presses a quick kiss to his chin. “But just so you know, you can’t do those moves from tonight at the reception,” she teases. “I don’t want to fight any thirsty women over you.”
Evan smiles softly, smoothing her hair back behind her ear, letting his knuckles brush the curve of her jaw. “The wedding’s in the Dominican Republic,” he says quietly. So quietly she’s not sure she heard him correctly. “And I really want you to come with me. We’d be gone a week, so you’d have to use furlough.”
He’s nervous, an emotion she’s rarely seen from him. Normally he’s steady and sure, confident in his decisions. It hits her square in the chest why, and it’s a bitter pill for her to swallow—he’s afraid she’ll say no. She hates that her own hang-ups and weirdness led him to believe there’s a chance she would.
Violet opens her mouth to speak, but Evan rattles on. “The resort is all-inclusive, and the water there is beautiful. Ethan’s wedding is on the second day of the trip, so we’d have the whole rest of the week to do whatever we wanted. We can snorkel and go on adventures if you want, or we can park it in a beach chair all week and drink our faces off. Or both. Whatever makes you happy. I know my family will be there and you haven’t met them yet, but they’ll leave us alone. Mostly. And when they don’t, that’s what the booze is for.” He smiles nervously, forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to worry about anything other than packing. It’s already taken care of. There’s a plane ticket with your name on it. All you have to do is say yes.”
She waits for the panic to show up so she can head it off at the pass and not let it ruin this for her. For them. She waits a beat longer, but the panic never arrives.
“I don’t want to pressure you, Violet,” Evan says defeatedly, as if she’s already given him the answer he’s been dreading. “Of course you can say no. I just thought—hoped rather—that you’d say yes.”
“You haven’t given me the chance to reply,” she points out, a warm smile curving her mouth. Her hand cups the side of his face, her thumb gently stroking his cheekbone. “I did promise you anything, Evan. And I meant it.”
He grimaces. “Yeah—that was kind of underhanded on my part. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh shut up,” Violet says, rolling her eyes fondly. She leans up to kiss him. It’s soft and sweet, but enough to save him from his rambling and let him off the hook he thinks he’s on. Pulling back slightly, she finds his eyes already on hers, anxiously awaiting her decision. “My answer is yes,” she whispers.
Evan’s face splits into a boyish grin, wide and completely happy. “Really?”
Happiness blooms in her chest, and she nods, beaming a smile back at him. “Really.”
A vacation together sounds wonderful, like the next right step in their relationship. She’s excited about spending a week with him in the Caribbean. Evan in swim trunks and sunglasses is her type of paradise. She imagines sitting in the sand beside him one afternoon, playing a few rounds of their ongoing game, only with fruity umbrella drinks instead of beer this time, and the perfect statement pops into her mind.
Never have I ever been on vacation with the man I’m in love with.