Her eyes burned again. Her lower lip trembled. She put her hands over her eyes, wishing to hide from the force of his gaze. From everyone and everything.
What a goddamn mess she’d made of her life. Of all of the people whose lives she touched. She gritted her teeth, trying to hold back the urge to cry. Saoirse was inside, being ripped apart by whatever Walter had done to her and it was Evie’s fault. What right did she have to cry?
A small sound leaked out of her. She tightened her shoulders.
“Evelyn,” Ryan breathed. He was right next to her. One of his big hands was on her shoulder again. Then, he was drawing her to him, enveloping her in the gorgeous scent of his body and the warmth of his arms.
“No,” she moaned, trying feebly to pull away from him. “Don’t comfort me.”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that went to her core.
“Because I’m– I’ve done terrible things,” she said, voice trembling. “I don’t deserve to be comforted. You need to be comforted. Your cousin, she needs–”
All time, all thought, all existence stopped when he suddenly kissed her. It was abrupt but sensual. Hungry but restrained. The cost of that restraint was palpable in the way he slid his hand into her hair and his other hand down to the small of her back and pressed her body against his as if he would merge them together.
“Ryan,” she murmured, pulling away. She couldn’t help herself. She was shocked. There was no other word for it. “I thought you–”
He touched her lip with his fingertips and then his mouth surged forward as if he couldn’t wait another second to kiss her again.
It lit a blaze in her so hot that she could practically feel herself melting. The way his tongue caressed her lower lip and then parted her lips so that he could taste her mouth made her moan. She remembered the scent of him, the way he smelled when they kissed for the first time so many years ago underneath the wisteria.It brought the memories back so intensely that she could smell the earth and the flowers in the potting shed along with the warm smell of his body and his breath the first time they’d made love.
His hands were cradling her face now and his mouth was tasting hers with more and more urgency, a sinner desperate for absolution. She returned his desperation, arms around his thick, beautiful neck, pressing the length of her body tightly to his. The sounds he made, the soft way he panted when their lips broke apart were her undoing.
“Evelyn,” he murmured against her lips. Distantly she was aware that they were walking. “Evelyn, Evelyn,” he said again.
Then her back was pressed against something hard. The side of the carriage house. His hard, strong body was pressed against hers, pinning her there with his hips as his lips coaxed hers into complete submission.
Drowning, she was drowning in sensation. In pleasure. In desire. Never, never did she think it would be like this with him again. Not even after he fucked her the other night. She’d been telling herself that was a one time thing. He’d let the applejack get the better of him. It had been hot. It had been intense. But it hadn’t been this sensual, gorgeous cascade of sensation. Of feeling.
The hand in her hair drifted down to join his other hand at her waist, squeezing and kneading her flesh there before they slipped up to caress the shape of her breasts through her dress, lifting and pressing them until thebreath escaped her and she kissed him with more intensity, moaning and writhing against him.
His large hands were catching at her dress, tugging it up, and then his fingers between her thighs. Stroking her cunt through the thin, wet fabric of her drawers.
He swore softly under his breath as he stroked her, forcing tiny sounds from her that she tried with all of her might to swallow.
“Ryan,” she moaned. “Someone might see–”
“Let them,” he rumbled. “To hell with them.”
Then he kissed her again with a new ferocity while his fingers fumbled with the ties on her drawers and then yanked them down. Biting her lip, Evelyn stepped her legs apart so they could slide to her ankles and she could step out of them delicately. Ryan kicked them away, and then pressed up against her again, slipping his fingers into the silken wet folds of her cunt. The touch of his fingers was electric and stole the breath from her body.
“Ryan,” she said again, just a breath against his lips. She held his face between her hands, staring into his beautiful eyes from inches away.
“I need you,” he murmured against her lips, voice hot and gravelly with his desire. He kissed her, their mouths tangling and melting together like honey.
“In the carriage house,” she said softly, panting.
He kissed her again, more intensely.More demandingly.
But she somehow found the strength to push him away just a little. He stepped back, his eyes glowing with unbridled lust and frustration.
She bit her lip and then slipped sideways. When she turned away from him, he crushed her back against him. His hands slipped over her thighs, her belly, her venus mound, her breasts, her ribs. The sheer hunger of his touch forced her eyes closed.
Then, suddenly, he released her again.
Evie dared a glance over her shoulder and almost yipped in delicious fright at the look on his face. Unable to help herself, she darted around the corner of the carriage house. She looked over her shoulder as she came to the door and found him rounding the corner, a dark look in his eye. She yanked the door open and had only set a foot inside when he was behind her, reeling into his arms again. She clutched at his hands, fighting the instinct to resist him.
Instead of walking her up the stairs, he walked her straight toward a stack of crates covered in canvas. When they reached it, he flipped her around and lifted her up, onto the crates.