Page 70 of The Diávolos: Part One
This is going to be a long morning.
* * *
Hours later,I’m back home and in the shower. I undo this morning’s hairdo and remove all the bobby pins. I tilt my head back and let the warm water roll down my face and through my hair. I reach down to grab the coconut butter body wash. Dumping a generous amount of soap on a loofa, I start running it over my neck and shoulders. I expose my throat to the spray and the bubbles slide down my chest. The tingly feeling makes my skin flush, and the thought of Evan’s hands gliding over my body instead of the suds creates an overwhelming feeling between my legs.
This sensation has been pooling in my stomach since this morning, and I’m aching to relieve it. I picture him standing at the door, watching me shower. I reach for the showerhead and bring it down to run the water over my breasts, moving it behind me to reach the backside, and all the way back to the front where I want it the most.
I aim the pounding spray on my center and jump at the pressure. I hold it over my clit long enough to get accustomed to the feeling and close my eyes as it starts to feel good. I continue picturing Evan’s eyes blazing with heat, his jaw twitching at my every move. My orgasm starts building quickly. I move the shower head up and down, side to side, mimicking the movements of Evan’s tongue on me the night before. Suddenly, it’s too much to handle. I brace myself on the shower wall and I come hard, as hard as the pounding shower spray, my wetness mixing with the water running down my legs. My head falls back, and I press myself to the tile behind me, letting the water caress my body as I come down from the high. I needed thatsobadly.
Satisfied from my orgasm and comfortable in my lounge clothes, I tie up my wet hair. I’m ready to sit in front of the TV all evening, watching romantic movies with nothing but a bucket of popcorn. I put on Dirty Dancing and, while the opening credits roll, I dim the lights and place some candles around my living room to set the mood.
This morning’s brunch went smoother than I expected, but I’m drained. I had to be Aria’s physical and emotional crutch the entire time. Her fiancé, albeit an outsider, was friendly and respectful. Hopefully he stays that way behind closed doors. I’m not sure how much Aria will be able to handle once they’re married and living together. I’ll be there every step of the way until then. I still haven’t given up on finding a way out for her.
I walk to the kitchen to grab my snacks when the doorbell rings.Huh? I’m not expecting company today.
Setting the bottle of Perrier and popcorn on the coffee table in the living room, I rush to the door. Throwing all caution to the wind, I swing it open, expecting to see a kid selling scout cookies or a Jehovah’s Witness, but my heart stops and my jaw drops at the sight of Evan, in all his glorious beauty, standing on my doorstep, carrying flowers and grocery bags.
“Evan. What are you doing here? Have you given up on the whole being invisible part of stalking?” I ask teasingly.
“Nice to see you, too, angel,” he says deadpan, ignoring my attempt at a joke.
I wasn’t expecting him to show up, so I’m not dressed for company. I glance down at my clothes and my cheeks turn red. I’m wearing short-shorts and an oversized Antium U sweatshirt. I’m so embarrassed to be seen like this by him.
“You are absolutely beautiful in your natural element, Angelica. Don’t be ashamed. Any woman would kill to look like you right now,” he says, sensing my insecurity. “Now, let me in before I drop all of these bags.”
I move out of the way. “Let me help you,” I offer, grabbing the bouquet of peonies. “They smell amazing, thank you. I’ll put them in water.” My house is slowly becoming a garden. There are peonieseverywhere. But I can’t complain. They bring life to an otherwise dull home.
As we pass the living room, Evan’s gaze momentarily falls on the candles and the TV. I don’t bother turning off the movie and continue down the hall. I sense Evan’s eyes shift to my ass, and instead of feeling exposed, I’m flattered that he likes what he sees. He sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and looks around. He almost seems nervous and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
I smile. “I would give you a grand tour, but it’s not like you haven’t been here before,” I say, my tone sarcastic.
“Keep making jokes and I’ll sneak inside in the middle of the night and scare the shit out of you while you’re sleeping,” he responds casually.
“You wouldn’t! That’s just evil.”
“I never said I wasn’t,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “You have yet to see to what extent. I am the devil, after all.” He winks.
“I’ll hide my pocketknife under my pillow and stab you with it,” I reply with confidence.
“With that little thing you carry in your purse? That’s foreplay for me, darling,” he purrs.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. There must be a chemical imbalance in my brain for my body to react this way. This man is deranged. Enough for me to want to run and hide. Instead, I’m drawn to him and his fucked up ways. He’s a stalker. God knows what else he’s involved in, and the longer it takes for me to figure it out, the more I ignore the red flags. I’m starting to not even see them anymore.
“What’s all this?” I ask, pointing at the bags.
“I brought you dinner. I’m going to cook for you,” he says proudly.
If I thought Evan couldn’t get any more attractive, this proves me wrong. I’m giddy at the mere thought of watching him cook inmykitchen. But all I want to do now is skip dinner and take him up to my bedroom. He has clearly turned me into a horny bitch.
“Grab one of the bottles of wine from the bag and help yourself,” he tells me.
“This is too much, Evan. You didn’t have to.”
He walks around the island to me, and I suddenly feel blazing hot under my sweater. He palms the back of my neck firmly and tilts my head back to look up at him.
“I had to wash the smell of your pretty pussy off my body this morning,” he says. I gulp and a little breathy sound escapes from me. He bends down, and my breathing stalls as he reaches my mouth. “I want to drench myself in your sweet aroma again.”
He kisses me, but it’s nothing like the one we shared yesterday. This kiss is delicate, savoring, and calculated. As if he’s trying to keep some for later.
