Page 33 of The Forbidden
“Thank you, Rosa,” my mom replies, stepping inside.
Harrison follows, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Rosa’s cheek. I wait for my father, but he holds up a finger indicating for me to go ahead without him. Moving into the entryway, I wrap Rosa in a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, honey,” she whispers.
Growing up, whenever we visited the Maxwells’ Hamptons estate Rosa would take care of all of us. She has watched us grow up, and has been a big part of our childhoods.
“You too, Rosa. It’s been a while.”
She holds me at arm’s length, taking me in. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”
My mother and brother ignore our reunion, moving through the house, and heading to the backyard.
“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks warming at the compliment.
She releases me, motioning for me to go on through while she waits for my father.
My heels click against the marble tiles, but I barely take a couple of steps when I hear footsteps pounding down the stairs. A shiver wracks through my body.
I don’t have to look to know who it is
Frozen to the spot, I lift my head and our eyes meet. His icy blues rake over every inch of me.
Clearly, Rosa was wrong about Evan’s whereabouts.
Like the God he is, he descends the stairs full of a confidence most people could only dream of possessing, his gaze locked on me.
My breath catches.
I swallow around the lump in my throat, my mouth turning dry under his intense scrutiny. Butterflies take flight in my stomach as warmth pulses between my thighs.
The Evan Maxwell effect. One I’m very well acquainted with.
His eyes scan over every inch of me, leaving a burning trail in their wake.
And when his gaze meets mine, I jolt when I see something I recognize, though it’s never been directed at me.
Undeniable, raw, lust.
And it’s all pointed at me.
My stomach tightens, and am I…panting? Jesus, I hope not.
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, it vanishes. He blinks; his usual cold indifference fixed firmly on his face.
“Evan,” I breathe in greeting.
His jaw clenches as if he can’t bear the sound of my voice. Without a word, he turns, walking past me as if I’m invisible.
My balls fist in anger as I watch his muscular back shift in the white shirt, that clings to him in all the right places.
That motherfucker.
I open my mouth, ready to school him on the proper etiquette in manners when he calls over his shoulder.
“Brat.”
Chapter 17
