Page 113 of Chasing Hope

What if…

A thousand and onewhat-ifsrun through my mind until her nails drag through my hair and send my thoughts scattering.

“Dove,” I warn.

Once she goes there, I’ll never be able to back off. I can’t have a taste of her and return to being friends like nothing happened. She’s my drug of choice and I’ll happily become addicted to her.

“Matteo,” she whispers.

Pulling back, I slowly lift my head and force myself to swallow through the dryness in my mouth. She’s staring at me with such warmth it sends my heart racing.

My fingers on her thigh drag back and forth in soothing motions. Despite her body showing that she wants this—wantsme—my instincts are screaming at me to go slow.

As if Evie thinks I need encouragement, she rolls her hips.

Lifting my hand to cup her cheek, she nuzzles into my touch,her eyes closing as if in ecstasy as I slide my other one higher on her thigh.

“Dove,” I whisper, not knowing what to say because it all wants to come tumbling out. Everything I’m feeling just wants to pour and pour until I have nothing left.

The wall I spent years building around my heart is crumbling and I don’t know if it’s safe to love her.

Evie’s eyes flutter open.

“Tell me that you want me. Tell me that this is more than just physical for you,” I all but beg.

Itneedsto be more than physical.

The light inside the car suddenly comes on, illuminating us. The door slides open, the chair in front of us moving as Irving hollers, “Lets celebrate, fuckers!”

For the second time today, I want to throttle Irving and his timing.

Evie swallows thickly before climbing off my lap. Readjusting my jeans so my arousal isn’t obvious, I jump out of the car, trailing behind her and loving the flush along her skin.

I’ve got tunnel vision as we walk toward our apartment building. The only thing I see is her.

Always her.

We stop before the elevator. Irving stumbles inside, his arms wrapped around the women’s shoulders, as the driver comes ambling behind us, carrying the equipment.

Evie moves to step forward, but my hand snaps out, snagging her waist and hauling her back to my front. Her surprised gasp wracks me with shivers.

“We’ll get the next one,” I say gruffly.

I worry Irving will see right through us, but when he lifts red, glassy eyes to mine, all he does is wink and slur, “More room for us.”

The driver heaves out a breath and steps back, the last of the equipment deposited, and the elevator door closes. He doesn’t even say goodbye, just simply spins on his heel and leaves, muttering under his breath about athletes.

I want to make a joke about cleaning the elevator cart beforestepping inside next, but I can’t peel my tongue from the roof of my mouth, not when Evie’s back remains against my chest and she’s made no move to change our position.

The tension between us is palpable, setting my nerves on edge, and the ding of the elevator makes us both flinch.

Letting go of my hold on her is painful. Telling myself that I can’t touch her is painful. Watching her walk into the elevator as she avoids my gaze is painful.

It’s all fucking painful.

Every goddamn moment that I can’t have her is fucking painful.

Evie stands against the right side of the cart, pressing the button for the twentieth floor. I lean against the other side, sliding my hands in my pockets, just waiting.