I tried to concentrate on television. On a book. On screwing around on the Internet. But nothing held my attention. My mind was too full of Evan, and in the end I went to bed early. Not because I was truly sick, but because I wanted the pleasure of the dark. The thrill of sliding my hand down my belly and under the band of my underwear, then touching myself with my eyes closed as I imagined that it was Evan’s fingers upon me. His fingers, his tongue, every decadent inch of him.
It was a bedtime fantasy that became a personal favorite, and one I repeated many nights over the next few years. Fortunately, I didn’t repeat the squealing and running like a twit every time Evan came around. Fortunate because Jahn took a fatherly liking to them, and those three guys became a fixture at the house. And since I wasn’t inclined to spend my summer hiding inside, I began to venture out. By August, I thought of Tyler and Cole like big brothers. As for Evan—no way would I ever feel brotherly toward him, but at least I could carry on a conversation without imagining his lips on mine.
Jahn called them the Three Dog Knights, because the Three Musketeers wasn’t original enough for guys as unique as them. “Besides,” he’d joked one evening as he hooked an arm around my shoulder and grinned at the guys, “this way I have my knights and my princess.”
Evan focused those hypnotic gray eyes on me, obviously considering the comment. “Is that what you are?”
I froze, stunned by the question. Grace had always been the princess to my jester. But now that she was dead, I’d slipped on the mantle even though it was an awkward, uncomfortable fit.
He was watching me—his gaze holding steady on my face as I floundered for a reply, and for a moment I thought that he saw the girl beneath the facade and the family name. I thought that he saw me.
Then he smiled, all casual and false, and the spell was broken. “It’s just that in the stories, the princess is always dragonbait.”
I had no idea how I was supposed to respond to that, and my discomfort made my temper flare—and then explode when Tyler and Cole both guffawed and Evan shot them a cocky I’ve won this round grin.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said coldly. “I won’t ever be dragonbait.”
“No?” He looked me up and down, and it took every ounce of my self-control to stand still as his eyes raked over me. “I guess we’ll see,” he finally said, and then without another word, he turned around and walked away.
I watched him leave, feeling itchy and unsatisfied. I wanted something—something big and wild. Something like the sizzle and pop that Evan’s slow, heated gaze had made bubble up inside me.
Something? Oh, please. How much bullshit was that? I knew exactly what I wanted—or more accurately, I knew who I wanted. And he’d just flat out left, as uninterested in me as I was enraptured by him.
As I bit back a frown, I saw my uncle watching me with an odd expression, and for the first time I feared that he knew my secret: I had more than an innocent schoolgirl crush on Evan Black. And somehow, someway, I was going to do something about it.
I released a long-suffering sigh, my eyes still fixed on the almost-magical image of Evan in his tux. I didn’t know if I was charmingly optimistic or sadly pathetic. All I knew was that despite the years that had passed—and despite the lack of any interest on his part whatsoever—my fascination with Evan Black never waned.
For just a moment, I allowed myself the luxury of a fantasy. His finger crooked under my chin. The gentle pressure as he lifted my face to look into his eyes. His touch would be gentle but firm. His scent masculine and heady. “Angie,” he’d say. “Why the hell haven’t we done this before?”
I’d open my mouth to answer, but he’d cut me off with a kiss, hot and open and so desperately demanding that I would melt against him, our bodies fusing from the electricity zinging through me, all of it focused between my thighs, making me squirm. Making me need.