Page 47 of From Us, Forever

“Evelyn, get over here.” He looked like a tiger ready to pounce on me, and he did just that.

I shrieked, running off, but in a second, he was on me, and in the next, he spun us around, taking me to the ground with him, and pinned me to the floor.

My pulse spiked from the need painted in his eyes. With his raven locks falling over his forehead and a playful smirk on his lips, he took my breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

“Adorable and now beautiful. Not what a man wants to be called, sweetheart.”

“But you are in every possible way.”

His weight crushed me closer and his nose landed on the tip of mine. “Can it be possible I only fall more in love with you every single day?”

“I think it is because I feel the same way. Is it like this for everyone else too?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“So are we going to be under our very own lockdown till this all dies down?” I gasped as I felt his face collapse under the crook of my neck, nuzzling me softly.

“Hmm.”

“Then I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Let’s go to Bellevue.”

His eyes snapped to mine.

“The blue house. I miss it. No one would find us there, right?”

He slowly nodded. “You’re right. No one would. Go back to where it all started, huh?”

“Yep.” I smiled.

“I think I like the sound of that.”

CHAPTER 11

“I’m nervous—excited. But also nervous.”

Jay raised a brow as he regarded me. “Decide, sweetheart. Are you nervous or excited?”

I squinted my eyes, blinded by the sun shining from the window behind him. “Why can’t I be both?” I replied, taking off my seat belt in a snap and settling myself on his lap, leaning against the window. “There, I could see you better now.” I planted a quick kiss on his nose, adorably red from the sun.

He groaned, digging his hands into my hips. “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

I smirked, wiggling my ass as I leaned forward and caught his lower lip between my teeth. “Hmm, I wonder why.”

“If you keep this up, you’ll end up on your knees.” His exploring hands escaped inside my hoodie, which was practically his, that I stole early this morning to hop on a plane to Seattle.

“I wasn’t complaining,” I retorted with a glance over my shoulders. “But what if someone sees?” Someone being the very pretty hostess who had been making eyes at my man ever since we entered the jet and interrupted us at any chance she got.

“So what?” His lips trailed along my jaw as a soft moan escaped my lips. My hands tightened around him, grounding my heated core against his tight zipper.

A throat cleared behind us, and I jumped back—it felt like a douse of cold water was being splashed on my face.

“Mr. Jameson, would you like the steak or chicken for lunch, sir?” Her overly sweet voice grated my nerves. This was the fourth time she interjected herself in the past hour.

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