His c**k throbbed as he deliberately avoided venturing lower to the source of her wetness—the feel of that might well send him over the edge, plunge him into a madness that could only end with him spending himself inside of her. And damn her, she kept lifting her hips, trying to force his touch lower. He fought her, strumming her clit, caressing and stroking, slow and light to quick and hard. All the while he watched her face soften into that exquisite feminine expression of impending ecstasy, lips open, eyes closed, brows drawing together. Gorgeous.

“Take off my panties and lick me,” she whispered urgently.

“No. Just this.”

“Dammit!” she cried. “Don’t be like him.”

He didn’t have to guess who she meant, and just for that, he wanted to throw her thighs over his shoulders and tongue that tight little bud until she screamed for mercy.

Later. She was drunk on tequila and lust and he couldn’t let her bait him now. The trip was looking more and more delicious to him.

Kelsey came against his fingers with a ferocity that almost killed him. She seized his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh through his shirt as her body tightened and she thrust her hips in rhythm with his hand. Her cries rang throughout his house, that usually gentle voice bold and carnal as it cried out his name, called him endearments. It was a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again and again, shattering this emptiness, and he answered it with senseless murmurings in her ear, groaning with his need to feel her rippling and clenching around him.

The tension had no sooner flowed out of her than she was snoring, her arms slipping from around his neck. He couldn’t repress a chuckle, though his hard-on made it difficult to contemplate the fact that she was out now and he was alone in the same anguish she had just suffered.

Evan crawled away from her side and retrieved her shorts from the floor. There really was no danger of waking her at this point, so he slid them back over her legs, fastened them and threw the covers over her again. Her dark hair curtained her face. He reached down and gently drew the strands away, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Damn,” he whispered. He liked the look of her cuddled under his blankets, in his bed. He liked her hair spread out on his pillow. Her skin was pale and stark against the burgundy sheets and a twinge of worry, of aching tenderness for her, sparked in his chest. She’d been through so much, and he feared she wasn’t over it yet. He also feared he was the one who’d stirred it all up for her again.

It was irrational, but he couldn’t shake this constant lingering feeling that some of the blame for the entire debacle was on his shoulders. He’d introduced her to her ex-husband eight years ago, entrusting Todd with the girl who’d been a better friend to him in a couple of years than Todd had been since they were kids.

Sighing, he turned away and grimaced as he ambled toward his closet with the unyielding denim of his jeans playing hell on his erection. He retrieved an extra blanket and pillow and went to make his own bed, on the couch. What he wanted was to crawl under the covers next to Kelsey and hold her in his arms all through the night.

Evan was yawning at the kitchen counter and pouring another cup of strong black coffee when the unmistakable sound of retching drifted in from the direction of his room. He was surprised she’d made it this long.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d spent all night dreaming about her sweetness against his fingers, even after taking a shower as cold as he could stand it and coming hard in his hand with her name ricocheting through his brain. It had been a fitful sleep, to say the least, and he hadn’t even been able to go for his run this morning to work off the lingering frustration. Rain had begun to fall just after dawn—he’d still been lying awake—and it didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Ordinarily he would’ve just run through it and been thankful for the relief in this heat, but not with Kelsey here to look after.

Rain on what was supposed to be his wedding day. That would’ve sent Courtney into a screeching tailspin. Thank God he didn’t have to listen to it, although he could almost hear it. Oh my God, Evan! My dress! My hair! My makeup! Make it stop!

Well, she hadn’t been quite that bad. But somehow she probably would have made him feel like it was his fault water was falling from the sky.

He took a bottle of water out of his fridge, anticipating Kelsey’s cotton-mouth, and walked into his bedroom half afraid of what he would find. She’d flung the covers halfway across the room and his bathroom door was partially closed, as if she’d made a halfhearted attempt to slam it behind her on her mad dash. He walked over and rapped on it with his knuckles.

“You all right, Kels?”

“Uhhhhhhh,” was the response. He shook his head, smirking as he watched the rain drool down the windowpane across the room. Dim, murky gray light filtered over everything. She was lucky in that regard. No blinding morning sun to assault her senses.

He dared to push the door open a bit and peek inside. She was lying on the floor, her cheek pressed against the tiles, her skin as white as they were. Oh, he’d been there before. Those tiles were very cool to the touch, especially against flushed skin.

Her eyes opened a bit, and she moaned when she saw him standing there. “Evan…I sure hate to tell you to go away in your own house.”

He laughed, walking in despite her words. “That’s right. You can’t.” He opened his medicine cabinet and got her a couple of Tylenol, which he handed to her after unscrewing the lid of the water bottle for her. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She pushed herself up on one arm and gulped it down like she was a lost desert traveler, delicate throat muscles contracting. Half the bottle of water drained before she stopped. She wiped her mouth, put the bottle on the floor and lay back down. “Just let me stay here, please.”

He leaned over, meaning to drag her up to her feet. “Not an option. You can’t be comfortable down there.”

“Evan, I’m so sorry.”

He froze, swallowing hard. She was looking up at him with a wretchedness in her eyes he could only interpret to be guilt or profound regret. She must remember……

“For what?”

“For passing out on you like that. I don’t normally act like this, I promise. I’ll get out of your hair in a few minutes—”

Relief bore down hard on him and he knelt down next to her. Guilt was tearing him up that he’d touched her at all in that state. He should have been able to walk away, and in the harsh light of day, he couldn’t believe how weak he was. “Stop that talk, you can stay all day if you want. And I know how you act. I’m sorry for letting you get to that point.”

“Today is supposed to be your wedding day, isn’t it?” she asked softly. Her voice was hoarse.

“Yeah. Some weather we’d have had, huh?”

“Really, I’ll go in just a minute, I don’t mean to—”

“Shh. Do you think I want to spend my rainy would-be wedding day by myself?” He grinned at her. “Hang out with me.”

She must’ve been convinced, because she smiled back. “Did I walk to bed or did you have to carry me?”

He tugged the collar of his T-shirt, though it wasn’t what was about to choke him. “I carried you.”