Stay (8 page)

I climbed into the bed still wearing his shirt, and watched through sleepy eyes as he pulled off his slacks and climbed into bed. He pulled me close to him and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. “Night, beautiful.”

“G’night, Evan,” I mumbled into my pillow. Within seconds, I was out.

Chapter Five

Evan had to leave the next day for what they called a house show, which was an event without them taping to televise. I went about my business as usual, making lists, watching the Food Network, testing out new recipes, and working my butt off at the new restaurant. All in all, it was a productive, if not lonely, couple of days.

Evan showed up at my door a few nights after he left. “Hi, beautiful.”

I grinned opening the door wider for him. “Hi, sexy. Welcome back.”

He walked inside and I closed the door behind him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this but, I’m going to be in Tampa this weekend and I wanted to know if you could come home with me.”

“Home? To Tampa?”

“That’s the idea.”

Oh my God. He’s asking me to come home with him.
My insides had suddenly turned into an intestinal version of Cirque de Soleil. “Um….”

He held up a hand. “Before you say anything, I want you to know that this isn’t a ‘bring my girlfriend home’ trip. My mom will be around, but you don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to. This trip is strictly a ‘I want to show the woman I’m sleeping with my home and get her into my bed if I have the chance’ trip.”

I threw my head back and laughed.
He sure knows me, doesn’t he?
“In that case, I’d love to.

“What do you want to do tonight?” he asked as he sat on the couch, waiting for me to come back to sit with him.

“Hmm, well, I was in the middle of making dinner—chicken with white wine sauce and asparagus—but I thought we might stay in tonight. I’d like the chance to relax.”

He nodded. “I like that idea. Need any help?”

I waved the wooden spoon I’d been stirring the sauce with in his direction. “You step one foot in my kitchen, I’ll stab you with a fork.”

He roared with laughter. “Territorial, much?”

“Extremely. Most chefs don’t like people under their feet when they’re trying to cook.”

“Okay, I’ll stay out of your way. It smells delicious, by the way.”

I stirred in the baby portabella mushrooms and put the lid on the skillet. “Thank you. This happens to be one of my favorite dishes. And one of the first I learned how to make when I decided I was interested in cooking.”

He stood and walked to the edge of the kitchen, leaning against the wall as he spoke. “Can I have a taste?”

I angled a glare at him. “You think you’re special, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He flashed me a grin that melted me right down to my toes. “I’m
totally
that special.” He reached over and pulled me to him, covering my lips with his in a kiss that nearly set my hair on fire.

“Okay, one taste,” I said as we broke apart.

He flashed his grin again as I handed him a spoon of sauce, then closed his eyes and let out a small moan of appreciation. “That’s good.”

“I know. I made it.” When it comes to cooking, my ego knew no bounds. I took the spoon back from him and rinsed it in the sink before putting it into the dishwasher, then turning back to finish the sauce. My kitchen is always clean. I made plates, handed Evan the glasses and bottle of wine, and sat down to eat. We talked about the taping and appearances he’d been scheduled for while he was gone, and the recipes I wanted to try on him before introducing them to the owner of the restaurant. After dinner, we sat in the living room, our legs entwined as we drank wine and talked some more.

“Batman could
totally
take Superman in a fight,” Evan insisted, pouring another glass of wine.

I shook my head so hard, I nearly dropped my own glass. “No way! Superman is an alien. He’s superhuman. Batman is just a guy dressed in a rubber suit—with a nice ass, but still a suit—and a lot of toys. All Superman has to do is use his laser beam eyes and set fire to the Bat. Or use his freeze breath and turn him into an ice cube.”

Evan sat back, leaning his arm on the back of the couch looking smug. “One word—kryptonite.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a sip of my wine. “Please, where would he even find any? It’s an alien substance.”

“And Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. He’d have unlimited resources to search it out. And if Batman let it slip that he was out for Superman’s blood, Lex Luthor would happily hand over the kryptonite with a bow wrapped around it.” He propped his bare feet on my wooden coffee table and saluted me with his wine glass.

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. Dammit, he was right. “Fine, you win.”

“Of course I do. No one beats me in comic book debates.”

Amy Winehouse played softly over the speakers across the room. I’d lit a few candles before dinner, and they still burned in their glass jars along the kitchen bar. Even with all the comics talk, this was a pretty damned romantic evening.

Even as I snuggled closer to him, I wondered if we’d have many more nights like this.

***

My hands dripped with sweat when I boarded the plane. My knees shook so hard, the woman sitting next to me thought we were already experiencing turbulence when we took off. By the time the plane landed, I was close to hyperventilating.

Evan hadn’t met my family. But I was getting ready to meet his. This was
beyond
huge for me. And so help me God, what if I wasn’t ready for this step?

Too late.
Evan stood at the gate, his plane having arrived a few minutes before mine, with a brilliant smile on his handsome face. He looked
so happy
to have me there, it was difficult to feel anything but the joy that radiated from him.

He wrapped an arm around me pulling in for a kiss. “Hello beautiful. Welcome to Tampa.”

“Hi there, stranger,” I said with a warm smile, forgetting about my nerves, “I missed you.”

He held out his hand to take my own. “I missed you too.”

I slipped on my sunglasses as we made our way out of the airport into the bright Tampa sunlight.
And I thought the Texas sun was intense.
Since I’d only brought my roller bag, we didn’t need to go to baggage claim, thank God. I wanted to get to the house sometime this century, and my luck with airport baggage carousels wasn’t great.

The last time I traveled anywhere and checked a bag, the carousel managed to knock me down as I attempted to grab my suitcase. I left with a skinned knee, a bruised elbow, and a broken handle on my case. Before that, my height had been the disadvantage—too many larger guys on the flight, pushing and shoving to get to their bags before anyone else. My tailbone bruised so badly, I had to sit on a pillow for a week.

After all that, I decided to only pack a carryon. Fewer bruises that way.

The drive to his place was quick, and when he pulled up to an old colonial style house, its beauty took my breath away. The inside of the house was even more beautiful than the exterior. Very stylish, but obviously a well lived-in house. He’d managed to turn it into a real home.

“My boy is home!” A short Hispanic woman wearing a long skirt and pearls came into the foyer. Her face free of makeup and salt and pepper hair pulled back into a bun, she looked kind of intimidating, but the warm smile on her face was enough to melt my defenses. A little. “Welcome back. You must be the Charlie he’s spoken so much about. My name is Maria. I’m Evan’s mother.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Actually, my knees had begun to tremble again. I didn’t expect to meet his mother the second we got into the house.

She slipped her glasses from her hair and put them on her face. “Let me get a look at you. My, you
are
beautiful. The pictures he shows me do you no justice.
Ay, que linda mijo!”

I didn’t tell her that I spoke Spanish, a necessary skill living in Houston, but enjoyed her calling me beautiful. And just maybe I’d hear what she really thought of me later on.

Okay, that’s childish. But I’m nervous. I’m not good with mothers.

“Mamí, we just got here,” Evan said as he set our bags down. “Can you let us at least get all the way into the house before you start your inspection?”

At her playful glare, I knew she wasn’t upset, but I still worried she’d hate me because her son spent most of his time several states away or because he’d chided her in front of a stranger.
Just call me the paranoid non-girlfriend.

“Fine, fine. Come in if you must. I don’t know why you’re so tired, you’ve only been traveling all day.” She winked at Evan, then hustled us into the house.

He led me into a living room decorated in cream and white. It looked like something out of a magazine, but the knick-knacks scattered here and the family pictures on the wall showed a much more personal side.

“What a beautiful home,” I said, taking it all in. I felt very small in a house obviously built for a large family. Or at least, large enough for a big man like Evan.

Maria brought fresh iced tea into the living room while Evan dragged our luggage upstairs to our rooms. I sat demurely on the plush armchair and sipped at the sweet tea in relative silence. Maria wasn’t hostile, but she didn’t make much of an effort to talk to me. I hoped it was simply because she wanted me to rest after the flight.

When Evan came back downstairs, Maria excused herself to make dinner while he showed me the house. It all looked professionally decorated and like it could be in a magazine.

I knew my apartment was clean, but the furniture didn’t match and most of my things were from secondhand stores or garage sales through the years. Still, both places were comfortable and clean. I just hoped it was nice enough for Evan, and he wouldn’t drop me now that he no longer had to be in Houston as frequently.

Later, we all sat down together to eat beef tips, rice, and black beans. The spices were all fresh and the food so delicious, I could’ve sworn Maria had gone to culinary school. Or at the very least, ran her own restaurant. I said as much as I gushed over how fantastic the meal was, even as I nearly fell asleep in my plate. I hadn’t realized how truly wiped out I was until my eyes grew heavier and heavier.

Still, I wanted to be polite despite my exhaustion, so after everyone had cleaned their plates I offered to do the dishes.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest. Guests don’t do dishes. Evan, Charlie looks tired. Why don’t you show her upstairs?”

“Isn’t this my home?” Evan asked.

“Obviously. But you look as tired as Charlie does. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Maria gave him a hug and told him she loved him. Then she politely said goodnight to me and ushered us toward the stairs.

I hadn’t been rude during dinner. I talked as much as I could, given how exhausted I felt, laughed at their jokes, and listened respectfully when she spoke. Why had she been chilly toward me when she was so warm upon our arrival?

I decided I’d probably just imagined it as Evan showed me upstairs and brought me to his bedroom. I balked at him. “I can’t sleep in your room with you!”

He closed the door behind us. “Sure you can. This is my house, remember?”

“But your mother is here!”

“I’m pretty sure she knows I've had sex before.”

“But you're still her son,” I said lamely.

“That may be true, but I am a grown man with needs.” he pushed me on the bed and bent to remove my shoes. “Please don’t make me think of my mother while I’m trying to seduce you.”

When he kissed his way up my leg, stopping just above my knee where he bit down gently,, I wasn’t so tired anymore.

I felt him unbutton my shorts and unzip them so slowly, I thought he’d never get them off. When I growled in frustration, he chuckled under his breath and nipped the inside of my thigh. “Patience, beautiful,” he said, kissing higher as he moved, “this is the first time I have you in my bed. I want to enjoy every.” Kiss. “Single.” Kiss. “Minute.” My back arched toward him when he reached my pussy, still covered by my shorts, but I could still feel the heat of his breath against me. “Please, Evan.”

Rough fingers worked their way into my waistband, pulling shorts and panties achingly slow down my legs and off. He dropped them by the bed in a flutter of clothing before returning his attention to my skin.

He kissed, licked, and bit back up my thighs, the crease of my leg just to the side of where I wanted his mouth, and back down the other leg. When I whimpered, I could feel his grin against my skin. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

My hands grasped at the blankets so I wouldn’t bury them in his hair and yank his very talented mouth to my center. “Tease,” I rasped. “You’re such a tease.”

I felt his breath on me, his mouth hovering over my desire. “What do you want me to do, baby?” One hand wrapped around my waist, just above my hip, while the other slid up and pressed just above my pelvic bone. “I’ll do whatever you want me to, but you have to tell me.”

“Your mouth. Please, I want your mouth.”

“What do you want me to do with it? Where? I need you to be specific, baby. I have lots of ideas on what I could do to you with my mouth.”