No Tomorrow Page 7

  “I was scared. I am scared.”

  “Of me?”

  “Of you,” I admit. “And other things.”

  His brow creases, and he licks his lips. “You should’ve told me you were a virgin.”

  Ugh. I’m grateful for the dark hiding my blushing cheeks. “I didn’t really get a chance to.”

  “True. I never would’ve done that if I’d known. I thought you wanted me.”

  I breathe in a shallow breath. “I did.”

  Grabbing my waist, he pulls me against his body and leans down, pressing his lips against my forehead and holding them there for a few moments.

  “I like you, Piper.”

  “I like you, too,” I whisper.

  “I think I might need you in my life.”

  My stomach flip-flops.

  “Let’s drive back to the park,” he suggests. “We can sit in the car and talk for a while.”

  “Okay.” I slowly pull away from him.

  “Do you mind if Acorn sits in your back seat? His paws are clean.”

  “Of course he can.”

  I let myself into the driver’s side while he puts Acorn and his stuff in the back and then gets in the passenger seat next to me.

  “How did you know this was my car?” I ask as I put the key in the ignition. “Have you been watching me?”

  “I actually saw you getting into it one night before you first saw me playing in the park. Me and Acorn were walking around, and I saw you in the parking lot where you work. You dropped your keys, and when you reached down to pick them up, your sunglasses fell off your head and were all tangled up in your hair.”

  I nod, remembering that crappy day when everything under the sun seemed to go wrong.

  “I thought you looked way too young to be driving, and I wondered if you could even see over the dashboard.”

  “Really?” I ask, offended and humiliated. “You’re going to be one of those people who make fun of my height now?”

  I’ve heard it all over the years. Pipsqueak, Shorty, Tinkerbell. And let’s not forget Pussypuker, which has nothing to do with my height and everything to do with my supreme awkwardness.

  “Go easy, baby. I think you’re fucking cute and sexy.”

  Ignoring my frown, he reaches across the car and holds my hand as I drive. It makes me feel so excited inside that I have to force myself to focus extra hard on actually driving the car, especially when I’m so lost in my thoughts I almost run a red light.

  “Do you want me to drive?” he asks when I slam on the brakes at the last minute. “You seem a little distracted.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just not used to someone holding my hand while I’m driving.”

  “Do you want me to let go so you don’t kill us?” he teases.

  I tighten my fingers around his before the light turns green. “No,” I answer with a smile.

  When we get near the park, he directs me to a dead-end side road, and I stop the car and turn off the lights and engine when we reach the end of the street near the woods.

  “I don’t think anyone will bother us here,” he says. “You mind if I smoke?”

  “Not at all.”

  He lets go of my hand to light up a cigarette, and I turn the key to lower his window for him.

  “You said you were scared.”

  “Yeah…”

  He exhales smoke out the window and waits for me to continue without prompting me.

  Running my finger over the leather steering wheel, I search for the right words and come up short.

  “I’m afraid I might be pregnant. Or that maybe you have something.”

  “Something?”

  “Yeah. Like something I could get.”

  “Oh.” He flicks ashes out the window. “That kind of something.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t come in you, so the chances of you getting pregnant are slim. And you can’t get pregnant from swallowing.”

  “I know that,” I say defensively.

  “Just making sure.”

  Does he think I’m stupid? It might have been my first time, but I’m not a total moron about sex.

  “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Two years, maybe. Maybe more.”

  A wave of relief washes through me hearing that. I was afraid he’s been wandering around sleeping with all sorts of women in different states from coast to coast.

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t blame you for thinking I’m scum, Piper. I know how I look, being homeless, having long hair and tattoos, not being able to take you on a date. You deserve better.”

  “I don’t think you’re scum at all. And I like the way you look. I didn’t think you had a disease because you’re homeless, Evan. You’re just really good-looking, and I figured you probably sleep with tons of women.”

  That makes him laugh. “A few. But definitely not a ton. And I usually use protection. I just couldn’t fuckin’ wait to get inside you. You scrambled my fucking brain.”

  “I know the feeling,” I mutter.

  “And just so you know, I shower several times a week. There’s a kid that works at the truck stop on the highway. I give him guitar lessons, and he lets me use the shower early in the morning. He even gives me soap and shampoo. I’m squeaky clean,” he says with a grin.

  I shake my head and smile at him. “I wondered how you always smell so nice.”

  He takes one more drag off his cigarette, throws it out the window, and then grabs my hand again.

  “Next time, I’ll be prepared. Okay? And I’ll try to go a little slower.”

  Next time? There’s going to be a next time?

  “And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go to the clinic downtown and get tested.”

  The idea is tempting, but I think it’s safe to assume Evan doesn’t have health insurance like I do, and he’ll end up with a huge bill to pay. That makes me wonder how he even gets his bills in the mail. Does he have a PO box? Or does he have to pay for everything immediately and in full with cash? How does anyone even get in contact with him? This homelessness situation is very confusing to me.

  “Um, I think that might be expensive,” I say.

  “I have some extra cash for emergencies.”

  Oh no. I can’t let him do that. What if he gets sick and needs the money? Or what if Acorn gets sick or hurt? What if they need food?

  “You don’t have to do that.” I face him. “Do you promise me you’re telling the truth?”

  “I give you my word.” His eyes hold nothing but sincerity, and it soothes my nerves somewhat. I’ve heard liars have shifty eyes, but his are calm. I decide to keep my appointment to get tested to myself and only bring it up if a scary result comes back. Otherwise, there’s really no point insulting him by telling him I ran to a doctor after having sex with him. No guy wants to hear that.

  We hold hands across the inside of my car and listen to the radio in the dark. He tells me he started playing guitar and writing songs when he was about eight or nine years old and how his older brother introduced him to weed right around the same time. He explains how the words came easier when he was high, and it took him almost ten years to realize he couldn’t keep smoking weed every day. He admits he dropped out of high school during his junior year.

  I listen intently as he tells me about the other drugs he then started to use—most I don’t even recognize the names of. While rubbing his thumb along the inside of my palm, he tells me how it took him another four years, a stay in rehab, and threats from his family and friends for him to get off the harder drugs. I’ve only smoked pot a few times and didn’t like how it made me feel or all the coughing it made me do, so I can’t truly understand his addictions. But it’s clear from the emotion in his voice that he had a very strong love/hate experience with drugs and alcohol.

  “Living straight and sober made me feel restless. That’s when I left and started living like this. Being free became a new high.” He lifts my hand to his lips, and my breath hitches
when he kisses the tiny ladybug tattoo on my wrist.

  “Now you’re my addiction.” His low, gravelly tone sends ripples through my stomach.

  Letting go of my hand, he leans across the small car and kisses me. I open my mouth for his tongue, welcoming the familiar minty-smoky taste of him. As he kisses me, he reaches across my body, finds the seat lever, and pulls it while pushing the headrest with his other hand until I’m leaning all the way back. Acorn quickly scooches over to the other side of the back seat to make room for the sudden invasion.

  He leans over me in the front seat, still kissing me hungrily. When I reach up to put my arms around him, he slowly moves his lips down the side of my throat, sucking and biting a tantalizing path to the V-neck of my sweater, pulling the fabric down to expose the pink silk push-up bra cradling my breasts. I send up a silent thank you to Victoria’s Secret for designing a bra that makes even my small breasts look good.

  He drags his tongue into my cleavage, stopping at the front clasp and undoing it with his teeth. God, there really is something to be said about a man who knows what he’s doing. Bracing one arm on the seat next to my head, he moves his lips slowly up the slight curve of my breast, pushing the fabric to the side until I’m completely uncovered. He lets out a deep sigh that makes my heart pound even harder as he circles my nipple with his tongue, sucking it between his lips until it aches for more. I moan softly and arch my body up into him with my fingers gripping his shoulders. The metal of his tongue piercing flicks over my taut nipple, sending hot tingles down my thighs and deep into the center of my core.

  He moves his hand down my body and he unbuttons and unzips my jeans in a flash. I wiggle beneath the steering wheel, helping him push my pants down. Breathlessly, I tug his shirt up, needing to feel his warm flesh beneath my fingertips. He slides his hand under my saturated panties, cupping all of me in his hand, his palm pressing against my already-throbbing clit. His mouth comes back down on mine, hard and desperate as he touches my wet lips, spreading me open with two fingers and entering me with a third. Gasping, I dig my nails into his shoulders and kiss him back just as wildly, unable to stop myself from moving my hips in rhythm with his finger-fucking.

  I want to cry and beg when he pulls his lips from mine. I’m convinced I can’t survive a moment without his mouth, his breath, and his taste. But he proves me wrong when he slides another finger into my tight, wet depths, and the metal of his silver skull ring rims my entrance, heightening the pleasure. Eyes closed in ecstasy, I try to tug him back to my lips, but instead, he bows his head to my breasts again, licking one, then the other, sucking and nibbling my aching nipples until my entire body is in a frenzy.

  I want all of him, everywhere. There’s not a part of me that I don’t want him to own. I tangle my fingers in his long hair, holding him to me as I arch up into his mouth and thrusting fingers. My gasps and cries fill the car as I come, but I can’t hold back or hush myself. He’s taken away all my self-control with his lips, fingers, and scent.

  Still stroking me slowly, he lifts his head to finally kiss my lips as I try to catch my breath. “You’re such a sweet, sexy little thing,” he whispers. “I’ve been losing my fucking mind thinking about you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” I reply breathlessly.

  “Good.” He slowly pulls his fingers from my quivering body and presses his palm against my sex again, cupping my heat as my body recovers from orgasm. “I want you to keep coming back for more.”

  “Okay,” I agree dreamily.

  He smiles, and we kiss again—another long, deep, and consuming kiss that blurs the lines of where I end and he begins. This… this is everything I’ve been hoping for in a man.

  After a few minutes, he pulls away, and his eyes are dark and lust-filled. “You should probably go home. It’s almost two o’clock.”

  Reluctantly, I put my seat back up and fix my clothes, wondering how the night flew by so incredibly fast.

  “Should I drive you to the park entrance?” I ask hesitantly. “Is that the best way for you to get to the bridge?”

  He nods. “Yeah, but I can walk from here. It’s not far.”

  Shaking my head, I start up the car. “I’m not going to let you walk.”

  “I walk everywhere, Piper.”

  I turn the car around and head toward the main road. “I know, but I’m not going to let you walk in the middle of the night when you’re in my car already. That’s silly.”

  He doesn’t say another word until I pull up in front of the park entrance. The street is empty and spooky quiet. Farther down the road, I can see the traffic light near my office change from red to green, and it seems out of place with no cars to stop and go.

  “I’m glad we ran into each other,” he says, breaking the silence.

  “Me, too.”

  He cocks his head at me, his hand on the door handle. “Were you really going to come see me after your date? Or were you just trying to be nice?”

  “It wasn’t a date. And yes, that was honestly my plan after I found your note. All I wanted to do was see you again.”

  “Just checking.” He climbs out of the car, opens the door to the back seat, and pulls out his stuff. Acorn hops out, yawns, and shakes his body; waiting patiently while Evan leans back into the car.

  “Come see me tomorrow.”

  My stomach and heart jump with a burst of unexpected excitement. “Here?”

  “Yeah. At the picnic table.”

  I nod and smile. “Okay.”

  He winks and closes the car door.

  Even though my space at my parents’ house is supposed to be my own, I know they will freak out if I take Evan and Acorn home with me, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could do just that as I watch them walk off into the dark to go sleep on the cold, hard ground.

  Chapter Six

  It looks like a bomb went off in here. The words my mother used to say to me on a daily basis echo through my head as I stand in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by clothes scattered all over the floor and on the bed.

  I can’t find anything to wear. Well actually, I found a lot to wear. I’m just not sure what to wear.

  Something easy for him to slip his hands into.

  No! my mind screams. Stop thinking that way. Geez, a guy gives me a few orgasms, and all I can think about is his hands on me. My stomach does its all-too-familiar thud. What if that’s all he’s thinking about and that’s all he’s interested in? Maybe I’m a booty call.

  No. I refuse to believe that. Not after he spent hours talking to me last night and telling me all the good and bad parts of his past. He held my hand almost the entire time. And he called himself my boyfriend in the pub. Holding up a thin sweater to see how wrinkled it is, I wonder if he meant that or if was he just kidding in front of my friends.

  God. Men are difficult.

  Sighing, I pull on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt and tie a long-sleeved flannel shirt around my waist in case I get chilly. He already knows how short I am, so I slip into black combat boots instead of something with a high heel.

  My phone rings as I’m heading out the door, and I know it must be Ditra because no one else calls me. I hesitate at the door, debating whether I should answer it or not, and then let my answering machine pick it up.

  “Piper…” Her voice comes over the speaker. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work. You can’t avoid me, and you know it. You have to call me and tell me all about your mystery man. Oh, and I had sex with Mitch last night. He had the smallest dick I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not even sure it classified as sex; it was that small. So—”

  Beep. The answering machine clicks and cuts her off. Immediately, the phone starts to ring, and I laugh when the machine picks up again.

  Her voice fills my room again. “Your stupid machine cut me off. Anyway, you better call me. Love ya.”

  I make a promise to call her later when I’m back home. I’m hoping after spending some time
with Evan today, I’ll have an idea of what we actually are to each other. Then I won’t have to answer Ditra’s cross-examination with vague answers.

  He smiles when he sees me approaching the picnic table, and I think it should be illegal for another person to be able to flip my insides all upside down the way he does.

  His smile falters to a slight frown when I hand him one of the lattes I’m holding.

  “I got us bagels, too,” I say, sitting next to him at the table. “And I stopped at the pet place and picked up some dog biscuits for Acorn.” At the mention of his name, the dog’s ears perk up and he looks at me expectantly.

  “Do you want a cookie?” I ask him, taking one of the bone-shaped biscuits out of the bag. He takes it gently from my hand and crawls under the table to eat it in private.

  “What?” I ask, noticing the odd look on Evan’s face.

  His voice is flat. “Don’t try to take care of us, Piper.”

  “I’m not… I’m just being nice.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it. But we’re fine.”

  “Okay.” The happiness I felt a moment ago fades and morphs into embarrassment. I push the bag with our bagels in it away from us and take a sip of my coffee.

  “Piper… hey.” He moves closer to me until his leg presses against mine. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

  “I’m fine.” I smile and push my hair out of my face. “Really.”

  I can tell by his raised eyebrow he doesn’t believe me. “I just don’t want you thinking you have to feed me. We’re not starving.” He takes the bagels out of the bag and lays them on a napkin. “I want your friendship, not a handout.”

  “It’s not a handout,” I protest. “I get a coffee and bagel every morning, and I thought you might want one, too.”

  “It’s sweet. I just don’t want you to be one of those chicks who takes on a ‘let’s take care of the loser guy’ project.”

  His words sting, even though I’m sure he didn’t mean them to. “It’s just a bagel and coffee, Evan. That hardly constitutes a project.”

  “I wish you’d call me Blue. Nobody calls me Evan.”