As I open my eyes, I feel like my whole body is being weighed down by a bulldozer. I can’t tell if it’s because my body aches so much, or from Evan’s larger-than-life chest, pressing into mine. His weight calms me somehow, makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.
We slept together. Evan Branson basically fucked my brains out and now he’s sleeping on my chest, naked. I think — no, I know — that was the best sex of my life. From the touching, the whispers, the edging, the teasing to the cleanup; everything was fantastic. I’m still in shock about it. I knew when he promised me his dick would be worth the wait, I just didn’t know how much.
Just thinking about it — and feeling him against my leg now — makes me extra giddy. I muster up the strength to push his body off mine as he stirs, falling onto his back. He looks like a God, and he fucks like one too. His face is perfectly relaxed, his jawline still sharp as hell as his chest rises and falls, the sun peeking into his room, giving his blonde waves a gentle glow.
I can’t help myself anymore, so I climb onto him, straddling his abdomen as I press my hands to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my palms. I press a kiss to his forehead. He still doesn’t wake. I press another kiss to his cheek. I’m smiling so hard my mouth hurts when I start to slide down him, kissing across his toned chest, until he starts to stir more, opening his eyes a little, blinking rapidly.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say, kissing along his face again. He doesn’t say anything other than that boyish, I-just-woke-up groan that leaves his mouth. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, his voice heavy with sleep that it sounds so low and sexy. For someone who has a naked girl on top of him, he doesn’t seem too thrilled. He rubs his eye with one hand, the other finding my hip as he runs his thumb across the bone. It feels like he’s been tethered to me. As if he just has to touch me. That’s more like it. “It’s, like, six am.”
He’s not a morning person. I love it. I’m not a particularly a morning person either, but I think I’ve turned into an Evan person. If being a morning person means I get to wake up to this sight beneath me, I’ll get up at six every day for the rest of my life.
“So?” I ask, cheerfully. He looks up at me now. Well, he looks at my bare chest first before his eyes wander to mine. His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink that I can’t help but stroke my thumb against it. He’s like a damn puppy – all sweet and soft.
“So…Why do you have so much energy?” he asks, but he’s grinning now, his thumb still circling my hip and I notice the ribbon he’s still wearing. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, loving the fresh taste of him. He tastes faintly like toothpaste, but mostly like me.
“I always have energy. There’s never a dull moment with me, Branson,” I say.
“Yeah, I realised,” he replies, laughing. He leans up in the bed, rests his back against the headboard as he wraps his hands around my waist, shoving me closer to him. I can feel his already hard dick pressing against me and my heartbeat starts to pick up as I look down at him, matching the smile on his face. He does the stupidest thing he can do and rolls my hips against him.
“Ev,” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. He ignores me.
“You just woke up and you’re already this wet for me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of my chest. I would be embarrassed, but I always feel everything so deeply when it comes to him. Even if that means being so incredibly turned on just by waking up on top of him. He rolls me over him again and I can feel my arousal coating his dick. I brace my hands on his shoulders, leaning further into him.
“Don’t start things you don’t have time to finish,” I say into his neck.
“I could go on like this all day with you, Scarlett, you know that,” he says, diving into a messy kiss that’s all teeth, skin, and lips. A huge part of me hates feeling like I’m no longer in control, but another part of me, buried deep down, secretly loves it. I’ve not felt this happy in a long time and God, I deserve it.
I hear the sound of scratching against the door. I ignore it, kissing him back before it gets louder.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, breaking away from the kiss, narrowing my eyes at him.
“It’s just our dog. Come closer to me,” he replies, pushing my chest closer to his, but I resist when the scratching intensifies.
“Let that poor dog in here right now, Branson,” I demand. He scoffs, not taking me seriously. When I don’t laugh or smile at him, he huffs, sliding out from underneath me.
All six-foot and three inches of him slides off the bed as he pulls on his boxers. He’s got a nice, firm ass that sways slightly as he walks over to the door. I pull a soft cotton shirt from his bedside drawer, slipping it on.
Before I get time to process it, a huge golden Labrador jumps right onto the bed, trapping me down.
Evan
I might pass out.
I might die.
Or I might throw up. I don’t know.
All I know is that Scarlett Voss is playing with my dog in my bed, giggling and my heartbeat won’t stop beating a million miles an hour.
“You like dogs?” I ask when the words come. Mila has basically squashed her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Scarlett’s red face pops up under Mila’s tummy.
“I love them! I didn’t get a proper look at her last time,” she replies, gasping as Mila pins her down again. “My dad never let us get one because Henry gets too irritable with fur.” She manages to sit up next to me, and Mila lies across both of our legs, her head in Scarlett’s lap.
“You’re such a good dog, aren’t you?” she coos in a sweet baby voice. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”
“Mila,” I say through a grin. She looks up at me and I swear I see tears in her eyes.
“Mila,” she repeats, cooing again as she scratches her on the head. “You’re just so cute. I want to take you home.”
“Like she would ever let you,” I scoff. Scarlett frowns and Mila looks up at me with those doe eyes. “She’s too loyal for he own good, aren’t you girl?”
I look over at Scarlett as we both fuss over the excited puppy as she rolls over my bed, and I swear I get a glimpse into our future. Mornings like this. Both of us snuggled up in bed. Our bed. A huge Labrador rolling around us as we treat her like a baby. That’s what I want my future to look like. There’s no future I want to be a part of where Scarlett isn’t with me.
When she’s still giggling, running her hands over Mila’s fur, I grasp her chin in my hand, turning her towards me. “Scar?”
“Hm?”
“You’re it for me.”
“I know,” she mutters, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “No one would be willing to put up with your shit other than me.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”
She shrugs. “Guess so.”
Scarlett
I’m startled by the sound of Kennedy’s voice as I lock the door behind me. It was already a struggle trying to sneak into the building without people from school seeing me, especially not Miles since his house is so close by and he often practices early. I usually see him when I’m doing my weekly walk of shame, and I did not want him to catch me this morning. Instead, I’m caught by Kennedy. She’s sitting in the dark, the blinds in the living room closed as she eats some cereal on the kitchen island.
“Jesus, Ken, you need to start wearing a bell,” I say, sighing against the door before walking over to her.
“How would that work if I’m sitting down?” she asks curiously, tilting her head to the side. Some of the milk dribbles down her chin and she wipes it away with the sleeve of her dressing gown. “Good night?” she asks again.
“Yeah, it was okay,” I reply, moving towards the fridge, opening it so the cool air can hit me. I’m lying to both of us here. ‘Okay,’ doesn’t mean shit compared to what happened last night. It was more than okay.
“These came for you this morning,” she says. I close the fridge, turning towards her and then I notice the black box and bouquet of flowers. The box is covered in tissue paper with an envelope on top. The bouquet is a mix of orange and pink tulips. “Who are they from?” she sing-songs, peaking over at me as I pick up the envelope. We both know who they’re from. Still, I open the envelope and read the note.
I got you these in hopes of doing them together. Then, I figured it would turn into a screaming match where you’d tell me I’m doing it wrong, and I’d let you. Let me know when you want to start, and we’ll see who finishes first. Spoiler Alert: I’m not going to let you win at everything.
I laugh to myself as I re-read the note. I did not peg him for the romantic type at all. Still, it fills my chest with warmth and my smile doubles. Kennedy watches me like a movie as I open the box to find Lego flowers, matching the ones that are sitting on the island, as well as a Bonsai tree made of Lego.
Evan Branson bought me Lego flowers.
* * *
I thought the weirdest part of this whole thing was the fact that I actually like Evan, but it’s not. The weirdest part of it all is that I feel totally and completely safe with him and I don’t worry about him doing something that can hurt me. Everything about him just feels right. Beneath all the arguments and petty comments, I feel like I just know him as much as he knows me. We spent so long picking at each other’s weaknesses, knowing where to hurt each other, but it really just allowed me to know him.
That’s why I know that when he’s not in the library, he’s in the music rooms. As I make my way over, I try to think of a way to thank him for the gift. I’ve not received any gifts before from people I’ve slept with, but the fact he got me something makes me feel like it’s much more than that. That it’s bigger than the both of us.
When I get to the room, I stand outside it for a minute, transfixed by the piece he’s playing. It sounds like ‘Linda’s song’. The one he wrote for me. It’s going to take me a while to get used to the fact that he wrote something and dedicated it to me just because. That’s the thing about Evan, he doesn’t do things because I ask him, he does it just because.
“Are you going to come in or keep staring some more?”
I didn’t even notice that he had stopped playing until his eyes connected with mine in the mirror. I push open the door slightly, slipping into the room. It’s hard to look at him without thinking of everything he did to me last night. About every dirty word, every touch…
“I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers and for the Lego ones,” I say, twisting my fingers in the sleeve of my shirt. He angles his body towards mine, swinging his legs over the bench.
He shrugs. “You make me want to do cute shit like that for you.”
“I suck at giving gifts,” I admit. This is why I’ve been so nervous. I don’t want him to buy me things because I know there’s nothing I can give him in return. He could try to ease my guilt, telling me that all he needs is me, but sometimes that can’t be enough. I can’t be enough to satisfy him. There’s no way.
“You probably don’t,” he says easily.
“See you said ‘probably.’ Which means a part of you knows that what I’m saying is true,” I challenge.
He frowns. “Scarlett,” he says gently.
“No, like, I’m actually terrible. Unless someone tells me exactly what they want, I get awful gifts,” I argue, cutting him off. He studies me for a minute before pinning his hands across his chest. I notice the ribbon he’s still wearing on his wrist, and I tug it. “See, that’s the best you’re going to get from me, Branson.”
He laughs quietly. “So, if it was my birthday next week, what would you get me?” he asks. I think about it for a minute. It’s not that I don’t know him. I could get him a hundred things I know he likes, but I don’t know how to get someone something so meaningful that it makes them cry. Something abstract and just different.
He tilts his head as he repeats, “A tie?” I nod, pulling my lip between my teeth. “That’s pathetic, Scarlett. Come on, you can do better than that.”
His encouragement makes me think harder. Dig deeper. “Okay, maybe a plushie in the shape of a music note because I know you like music.”
“Now that’s better,” he praises. He tilts his head towards me. “Keep going.”
“Maybe I’d make you a playlist.”
“I love music and you love music. It’s one of the things we have in common, but our tastes are different. I could find something that’s a bit of both of us.”
“Yeah?” He nods. I shift uncomfortably, trying to think of something else to say. This shouldn’t be so hard. I’ve spent so long arguing with him, now I don’t know what to say, or how to act. I’ve never been a relationship kind of person, but he makes it seem easy.
“Hey, Scar?” My stomach responds first with butterflies at the stupid nickname. “Stop worrying. You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine. Just let yourself have this, okay?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says, punching out each syllable with extra force. I lean forward, grab his shirt, and pull him into me, kissing him so hard that I lose my balance.
