It was hours later when the sun finally started to take its leave for the day that Kirsten realized she was more confused about Evan Beaumont than ever.
True to his word, he took her back to the gallery where their relationship first began, then treated her to an unpretentious lunch courtesy of a food truck at a nearby park. They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing all manner of topics ranging from different styles of art to how her father learned about her passion as she studied to become a lawyer; he told her about his quest to own his Kandinsky painting once he discovered the artist, and she entertained him with stories of Parker's fabulous friends and the support the eccentric woman provided in helping make her own exhibition a reality.
"Speaking of your exhibition, will I get an invitation?"
She laughed. "Parker will probably invite you before me."
He nodded in agreement. "And knowing her, she's probably already ear-marked the most expensive piece for me to buy."
Their whole day was filled with easy conversation and finding common ground with one another. Granted, they stayed away from topics like her brother's vow to undo their agreement or the undeniable chemistry they shared and where it was leading them. Instead they simply focused on enjoying each other's company and nothing more.
It was as close to a real date as she had ever come with the man, and Kirsten knew her heart could easily be in trouble if she ever decided to truly let Evan Beaumont in. Each hour spent with him allowed her to peel back another of his enigmatic layers and helped her understand who he was as a businessman and as a son with allegiance and obligations to his family's company.
He shared stories of his challenges and successes at Beaumont Industries, and in short order she developed an enormous appreciation for his business acumen. In nearly fifteen years his extraordinary instincts had proven right every single time, and it became very apparent why he was a Chief Operating Officer at Beaumont Industries even if he was still well under the age of forty. In truth, it seemed the only reason he wasn't the President and CEO in his own right was because Patrick Beaumont had yet to retire and hand over the company reins.
If she understood more about Evan, she also realized she understood him less than ever. He was a strong family man, yet had no family of his own. He mocked his sister's odd tendencies and his brother's ever increasing number of children, but when he spoke of them it was with obvious warmth and devotion.
The same contradiction applied to her as well. Evan had told her flat out that he planned on sleeping with her, and she got the distinct notion he would be more than willing to start an affair with her, but paradoxically a real relationship felt out of the question.
No matter how many answers she got from him they were always in conflict with something else he either said or did.
The one answer she had for herself that was clear-cut was the decision to keep as much of her past as private as possible during the course of their marriage. She was determined to insulate Evan from the truth of her past, convinced it was the only way to protect the future of Travis Enterprises.
It was a great resolution to have but it was also a seriously challenged one when she was constantly bombarded by the mixture of delight and torture he subjected her to with every playful touch, every stolen kiss, and every sexy smile he cast her way.
It was on the taxi ride back to his office towards the end of the day that she decided she needed to lay out some ground rules for them once and for all. Her best defence was a good offence, and if she set firm boundaries she knew Evan would respect them. He had already promised her that, and no matter what deceptions had transpired in the past she knew he was a man of his word and that she could trust him on this.
That meant no more thieving of kisses, no erotic whispers in her ear, and certainly no more references to seduction under multi-million dollar works of art. They needed to honour the original terms of their agreement and in one year's time divorce and go their separate ways. It was the best solution for everyone.
Her bravado quickly gave over to cowardice though, when they pulled up to the front of Evan's building and he took her hand after quickly paying the driver. Her heart skipped a beat at the warmth of his touch and she barely heard him say, "We better make a run for it, kitten. It looks like the sky's about to open up."
As if obeying another of his unassailable commands, black clouds disintegrated and inundated them with torrential amounts of rain the moment the cab pulled away from the curb.
When they burst through the main doors seconds later Kirsten could well imagine the picture they presented to the lobby full of people who were lucky enough to find shelter before the deluge hit.
'Evan the Terrible' was soaked from head to toe with his companion looking more like a drowned cat than the endearment he so often referred to her by. All eyes were on the pair, and those who recognized the usually bellicose man were taken aback to see him smiling and laughing.
They could find no explanation for it until one whisper became many, and the crowd of onlookers learned they had just seen the newly wedded heirs to Beaumont Industries and Travis Enterprises in all of their drenched glory.
____________________
"I don't know about you, but I'm soaked to the bone."
"Hang on, I have a stack of clean towels in here."
Evan walked over to the far side of his office and pressed his hand against a seamless panel along the wall, and a door quietly popped back and slid away to expose what looked to be a large, private bathroom. From her viewpoint Kirsten could see a recessed alcove that housed a half dozen business suits and a series of built-in shelves full of towels and other accoutrements that comprised a man's wardrobe. The mirror reflected a glass shower much like the one he had at home and another pocket door presumably leading to the water closet.
He ducked inside and grabbed two of the largest towels, then came back and handed her one, and draped his own towel around his neck and started working his way out of his saturated jacket.
She kicked off her shoes and ran her fingers through rain-matted curls, and patted the towel on her hair and face, all the while staring at the private executive bathroom.
Evan eyed her suspiciously, and finally asked with good humour, "Haven't you ever seen a bathroom before?"
Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment as she recalled one of Marlena's bulletin points from her information package on Evan.
"Is that supposed to be the executive bedroom you sued a website over?"
"The internet never forgets, does it?"
She was instantly contrite. "I didn't mean to— I mean, it's none of my business."
"Did you really think that's how I do business?"
"Of course not!"
His scowl eased and he waved his hand in dismissal. "The truth is always less interesting than rumour and gossip, but I can assure you the gossip is false. That bathroom door was nothing more than a clever design trick, but then some idiot saw it and made the ridiculous assumption that it led to a bedroom, and an even bigger idiot published the story as if it were actual news."
She smiled. "So you sued for libel and shut them down," she concluded, remembering other tidbits from Marlena's notes.
"Damn right I did. Except the damage was already done, and 'Evan the Terrible' became the destroyer of websites and Don Juan of the construction industry. Never mind there wasn't an ounce of proof to what was said, or that I had every right to protect my name and reputation. People will believe whatever they want, especially if the lie serves their purpose better than the truth."
Kirsten nodded, shaken by his words. She probably knew better than anyone what it meant to have people favour lies over the truth. Jason used lies like his own palette of colours and painted a landscape of falsehoods not only to impress his friends and colleagues, but to keep her from making friends of her own. Or from seeking help once their marriage descended into madness. Luckily for her, by the time he died he had already driven away everyone save her family, and it was only his parents that continued to say such terrible things about her.
"C'mon," he said, purposefully changing the topic, "we better get out of these wet clothes."
With that he loosened and took off his tie, then removed his other wet items until he was barefoot and clad only in his rain-soaked trousers. Kirsten stood still, fascinated at the glistening, bare chested man before her.
He was all business in doing away with their wet garments and didn't seem to notice her gawking, and held out a hand and said, "Here, give me your jacket. There's a warming drawer in the bathroom and the towel racks are heated. That should speed things up a bit."
Before she could protest he was behind her, peeling her jacket off her shoulders and down her arms, and then he was disappearing back into the bathroom. When he came back into the room he had a brand new shirt in hand for her and was removing one of its many tags.
"You can wear one of my spare shirts until you can get warm and then— Jesus Christ."
She flinched at the expletive and looked around the room, wondering what had caused his sudden outburst. "W-what?" she stammered, and started to shiver in earnest in her wet clothes.
Evan could only stare, and wondered how he hadn't noticed her before now. Her hair was freshly tousled by her towel, and her apple-blossom skin had a leftover flush from being battered by the sudden rain and wind. Her damnable lips were extra pink and looked as if he had spent the afternoon kissing them instead of just thinking about it. He paused and gave in to drinking in the rest of her, instantly drunk at the sight of her.
The demure outfit he admired her form in all day was suddenly no longer so modest, and his starving eyes roamed the length of her. She didn't seem to notice that her tapered skirt still furiously dripped around her, or that when he matter-of-factly removed her jacket he left her shockingly exposed. Her cream-coloured blouse was nothing more than wet gossamer now, and it clung to her lace covered breasts, but could do nothing to hide her rosy coloured nipples, taut and thrusting defiantly against thin layers of material, daring him not to notice them.
He walked over to her with silent purpose and stared, both curious and enamoured. How could she look like she'd just stepped out of the arms of a hurricane and still be as exquisite as if Picasso himself had painted her? She watched him wide-eyed in return, but said nothing, and he lifted the thick towel from behind his neck and flipped it over her shoulders, snaring her and pulling her chilled body against his suddenly hot skin.
"I should have made love to you on our wedding night," he said huskily. "I was a fool not to."
Kirsten felt parched and licked her lips, trying to find her voice. The innocent action instantly drew his lustful gaze. She cleared her throat slightly and said hoarsely, "I-I was drunk. You were a gentleman, not a fool."
"Then I should have made love to you the next night. And the night after that. And every day since."
She searched for words, but all she could think about was the heat surrounding her and wonder how this man could be so hot to the touch when she couldn't stop shaking. He smelled like fresh rain and clean linen, and something imperceptibly masculine that always clung to him like a second skin. Thankfully, the heat of his body was contagious, and she could feel the warmth of him seeping into her flesh, into her very bones it seemed.
Her towel was somehow dropped and forgotten, and her hands were now splayed across his bare chest, and she timidly toyed with the matting of dark hair and marvelled at its contradiction of individual coarse hairs and overall softness. His breathing deepened under her ministrations and she could tell his willpower took every measure of energy he had. But she also knew this man would never rush her towards something she wasn't willing to do, and for just a moment she relished in the feminine strength she possessed.
"Evan, I... I never seem to be able to find the words... to tell you, I mean."
He tightened his grip on the towel and pulled her even closer, flattening her palms against his chest and forcing her to look up into his eyes.
"Tell me what?" he gently coerced.
There was no hiding, no turning back, so she said the words simply and honestly. "That I want you."
He let out a groan that morphed into laughter, and he dropped the towel so he could cup her buttocks and pull her against the stiffness of his erection.
"Dear god, woman. I've never wanted anything more than the way I want you."
With both of their admissions set free, Evan abandoned what was left of his willpower. He kissed her fully and searched out her softness with a carnal mastery, and with her own guard finally let down, she gave into the passionate thrusts of his tongue and pressed herself against his thick desire as it called to her own.
He pulled at the sheer material of her blouse and freed it from her skirt, then made quick work of its tiny pearl-like buttons and slid the material off her shoulders. His tongue continued to spar in slow motion with her own, but he still managed to deftly unfasten the small hook at the top of her skirt, undo the hidden zipper beneath, and add it to the accumulating pile at her feet.
When his mouth left hers she grasped at his biceps and dropped her head back to allow him a broader canvas to paint her skin with his touch. With alternating kisses and flicks of his tongue he burned a trail down her neck to the soft indent just above her collarbone and across her shoulder. He pulled at her lace-embellished straps and first kissed, then nipped at the faint imprint they left behind, then did away with her brassiere altogether. The love bites made her squeak with pleasure, so he repeated the action until it elicited a sensual giggle that brought a sinful smile to his own face.
His hands encircled her ribcage and drew down the length of her torso until he reached the lacy barrier blocking the ultimate of treasures. His fingers slowly traced a sensory path inside the trim of her underwear and he felt her shudder and whisper his name, either in a sensual plea to stop or insistence for more. He shifted his mouth to the edge of her ear and said, "Hold on to me," with an instruction that was both rough and tender at the same time.
Kirsten did as he bade, content to give up thoughts of anything but this moment. Tomorrow could be left for another day. Right now was for the passion they needed to give in to. She locked her hands around his neck, and without hesitating he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the seating area in the corner of his office. He laid her gently onto the sofa and lowered his body over hers, the heat of their anticipation erasing any lingering chill from the air. She reached for him, but he hesitated for the first time, and she met his gaze with unspoken question.
"Whatever the rumours are, kitten, I've never been with anyone else in here."
The solemn reassurance, coupled with the endearment he so often used, nearly rent her to pieces. She nodded and gave him the softest of smiles in return, but never voiced the words she suddenly longed to say.
Thank you.
I believe you.
I care for you.
Instead, she settled on using the language of her body and spoke to him with the touch of her hands and heat of her mouth, urging his body to hear the words her own had said.
Evan couldn't explain it, but he instinctively felt her response shift into something incredibly more potent. Her touch was already exquisite torture and it suddenly penetrated far deeper than flesh and nerves. It reawakened feelings he didn't think he could have, and others he swore he would never again expose himself to, and he mentally retaliated, even as each feather-like touch squashed his resolve with the force of a steamroller.
Damn this wife of his, he thought as he answered her persuasive kiss with his own rough reply. Would she never grant him peace? Did every touch have to tear down another brick in his carefully built wall? Even now he could hear her bell-like voice say the words 'I want you' over and over inside his mind, and it drove him mad with longing.
But her body was all he wanted, and his own was all he was willing to give. It would be up to him to remind her of that.
And up to you to remember, you damned fool, he added for himself.
Her fingers gently scored the length of his back in response and he groaned as shivers danced up his spine. He pushed aside the complicated thoughts and did away with his own remaining clothing, then reached between them to remove her lace bottoms. She responded to the gesture without hesitation and grasped his strength in her graceful hand, causing him to inadvertently shudder at her touch.
"Kirsten, I—"
God help him, he'd forgotten how to speak.
She found the words for him and gently grasped his shoulders and breathed, "Come to me, Evan."
He followed her lead and held her hips firmly when they instinctively rose to meet his, and with one powerful stroke united their bodies together.
Kirsten basked in the delicious agony of being filled by him, and when he withdrew from her it was done with an excruciating slowness that sent her careening towards rapture. He plunged back into her with the same magnificent motion and paradise exploded inside of her without warning. She heard his low chuckle, and when she opened her eyes he was staring squarely back, still buried deep inside of her.
"That was one. Let's see if we can't find a few more."
Before she could say anything he lifted her hips, again withdrew himself and then drove back into her. Thought was lost to her after that, and true to his word, he helped her find release twice more, and each time she clutched at him and uncontrollably cried out in climax. He repeatedly pulled at her senses with heady kisses and quiver inducing strokes, and a blur of sensations swept over them both until the friction between them finally exploded and sent them soaring towards the highest of ecstasies.
Afterwards, he pulled her into his arms so she was nestled into the crook of his body and she snuggled into his embrace, drowsily content to be held while she fell into a satiated sleep.
Moments before she drifted off she smiled to herself and wondered why she had ever denied herself such bliss.
Evan couldn't think at all.