Eva whimpers again, and her hand lowers on my chest, my abs constricting as her fingers trail down my abdominal plane, past my belly button. I have no idea what the fuck she’s doing in her sleep or whether I should wake her, but as her hand reaches the top of my groin, I tense. Her smooth fingers reach over the top of my briefs and clamp around my cock, and she lets out a content little murmur before her breathing returns to normal.
I hiss between my teeth. I’m stiff as hell, lying here and trying like fuck not to lose my shit while Eva holds my dick. If she moves—if she so much as twitches—I may moan, and that would wake her.
If Eva is an angel, she’s trying hard to dispel those rumors.
My body trembles, wanting more than anything to take charge, to wake her up and fuck her like she deserves, but I’m in this for the end game. If I lose myself in this moment, I’ll lose the small amount of trust I’ve built with Eva so far.
A slight snore resounds from her mouth, making the tension ease a little. Even if she does have her hand firmly wrapped around my cock, I guess it will be a nice way to go to sleep.
So, fighting the urge to pump my hips, I close my eyes and let my body relax in her grip. And for once, I’m allowing a woman to hold me while I fall asleep.
This is new territory.
Eva, what the fuck are you doing to me?
Chapter Sixteen
NYCTO
My eyes slowly drift open. The warmth of Eva against my body is gone, and with it, a sense of loss washes over me. I won’t bring it up. Hell, she may not even know what she did in her sleep—that she pulled me closer to her. I turn my head, and she’s facing me, still asleep, but she’s curled into herself, her hands tucked under her chin. Smirking at the distance she’s put between us, I can’t help but figure she woke up during the night, realized what she was doing, and retreated. She did it without waking me, so now we can both pretend like it didn’t happen without shit getting awkward.
Without waking her, I slowly edge out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. After closing the door behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror. “You’re in over your head, asshole,” I murmur to myself.
I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. The frigid hit wakes me a little more as droplets run down my tattooed chest. Grabbing the hand towel, I scrub my face dry.
I know I need to pull my shit together. I’m hoping everything has gone to plan with Ivy this morning. If she tried to make a run for it last night, the wheels to all this bullshit could start falling off. I slap my cheeks a few times to wake myself enough to get on with the day, then open the bathroom door to get dressed.
As I start to walk out, Eva sits in bed, reading one of the books Trixie brought in for her. I hesitate in the doorway, taking her in.
She lowers the book, and her eyes focus on me and widen. Her gaze follows a droplet as it runs from my neck, over my collarbone, down my chest, and over my abs. Eva’s tongue peeks out for just a moment before she bites the corner of one lip, and a gorgeous blush covers her cheeks. The sight of her almost gives me a coronary. Damn, this woman’s sexy.
Hurriedly, her gaze flicks back to mine. “You’re wet,” she whispers.
Water droplets still slide down my chest, and I casually wipe them away as I continue walking into the room. She lowers the book to the bed, her eyes taking in my almost naked body.
“You gonna be okay for a while? I gotta go deal with some shit.”
Eva clears her throat. She brings her book back up, trying to appear indifferent. “Unless you’re finally going to let me walk around the clubhouse on my own? Got nothing better to do…”
“You know I can’t let you do that.”
“This is where I’ll be, then. Scurry out of here like you do every day. I have my own shit to deal with.”
Whoa… there’s some attitude. Is she overcompensating because of last night?
“You need to douse that fire in your tone, chiquita.”
“You need to get dressed and get the hell out.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you? You getting your period or something?”
Her eyes grow wide, and she slams the book on the bed.
Shit. Bad move.
Eva throws the quilt off her legs, her face turning bright red in anger. Her feet stomp the floor hard as she storms toward me with thunder usually seen in a raging stampede. I tense my muscles, waiting for the impact as she lunges toward me and shoves me in the chest.
“Idiota! Imbécil! I hate you. I hate the sight of you! Get the hell out!”