Page 26 of False Assumptions

“You’ve been acting weird since the movie ended. What’s going on?” Her eyes scanned his face.

He drew in a shuddery breath, not sure what to tell her.

Her hands slipped up his arms, squeezing his tight biceps. That touch turned off his brain, and he set his glass down on the counter behind her, crowding her back until she was trapped, and he brought his mouth down on hers. He closed his eyes at the feel of her soft lips against his, but the realization that she wasn’t responding froze him to his core.

He pulled back, about to step away, leave. He didn’t want to stay after that. He’d lost his mind with her nearness and touch, and now he’d crossed the line. Fuck. But before he could convince his feet to move, her grip on his arms tightened, pulling him closer again. His eyes snapped to her face, and her brows were still drawn together, but her face emitted determination, not confusion. She went up on her toes, her body pressing against his, her hands traveling up his arms to his neck, where she pulled his head back down to hers.

If he thought he’d lost his mind before, it was nothing compared to this. His arms clamped around her, one around her waist, the other tangling in her hair, holding her head in place. He nipped at her lower lip, slipping his tongue inside when she opened for him with a gasp. She seemed tentative again, and he tried to withdraw to check in with her, but her fingers clutched at his hair, holding him in place. So he found her tongue, drawing hers out with his own, his hands sliding up and down her back while hers continued to clutch at his hair.

As their kiss continued, he grew bolder, letting his hands slide down to her ass, pushing her pelvis against him, grinding his hips into her belly, letting her feel what she did to him. That provoked a moan from her, the sound muffled by his own mouth. His grip on her ass tightened, and he lifted her up, setting her on the counter, dishes clanking together as they got pushed out of the way.

He followed, his lips never leaving hers, one hand going behind her head to protect it from banging against the cabinet. With her at this height, everything lined up perfectly, from their mouths down to their hips, and he enjoyed the feel of her, the way she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her thighs hugging his hips, like she couldn’t get enough of him either.

This time the groan was from him. The heat between her thighs made him want to sink inside her. Now.

But when he slipped his hand under her shirt, her skin smooth and warm against his rough palm, she froze, her fingers tightening in his hair to the point of pain.

He lifted his head, his eyes focused on her mouth at first, her lips swollen and red from his kisses. But when her hands left him, one coming to cover those gorgeous lips, he met her eyes. She suddenly looked so … vulnerable. And confused. Again. But he didn’t know what to say, what she’d want to hear, so he kept his mouth shut.

“What was that?” Her hand over her mouth muffled her whispered question even more.

Evan mulled over what to say, but decided to go with simple honesty. He dropped his forehead to hers, glad she didn’t flinch away. “That was something I’ve wanted to do for a while.”

“Really?”

He pulled back, a smirk fighting its way out. “Yeah, really. Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, her hand dropping from her mouth. “I don’t know. Everyone?” She shook her head, sliding off the counter and forcing him to step back. “But really. You’ve been respectful and platonic and distant. Nothing would’ve made me think that”—she waved a hand to indicate their countertop make-out session—“was on your mind. At all.”

Leaning against the counter next to the fridge across from her, Evan crossed his arms. “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

Her eyebrows went up at that. “And today?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” He looked away, examining the pattern in the vinyl flooring, unable to meet her eyes anymore. She’d stopped him, after all. Maybe she’d just wanted to see what kissing him would be like, but wasn’t really interested. It’d happened before.

“I don’t—I’m not—“ He looked up at her, watching her struggle to find the words she wanted to say. Waiting for her rejection. He assumed she wanted to be polite about it. They still had to do the presentation on their book next week, after all. Wouldn’t want that to be awkward.

She straightened her spine and put her shoulders back, meeting his gaze head on. “I don’t do no-strings sex. I like strings. Lots of them. So if that’s what this is for you, then, as nice as that kiss was, it can’t happen. Nothing else can happen between us.”

She held his gaze, something like defiance in her face. Well. That hadn’t been what he’d expected.

“And if it’s not?”

Her eyes scanned his face, her forehead wrinkling. “What?”

He dropped his arms and pushed away from the counter, invading her space again. Watching her throat work as she swallowed, her fingers tighten where they gripped the counter behind her. “If that wasn’t about no-strings sex. If I’m good with strings. What then?”

“Oh.”

He waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “Oh?”

“Yeah, oh.” She looked everywhere but at him.

“What’s the problem?”

She made a noise in her throat. “Well, I’m me. And you’re …” she nodded in his direction, making eye contact again. “You’re you.”

“Yeah.”

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