The Seduction of Evelyn Hyde Page 7

  How is this possible? How can he feel so real?

  His mouth did crazy things to her, stroking and teasing, trailing across her cheek to feather kisses down her throat. All rational thought dissolved in a hazy mist of sensation. The electrical hum of his hands as they slid up and down her body set her skin aflame, made desire fist deep inside her and her blood burn with volcanic intensity. Matt’s touch was as magical as everything else about him.

  “Strawberries.” His hot breath tickled her ear. “You taste like strawberries.” The husky words he uttered were as seductive as his caresses and sent flickers of pleasure dancing along her spine.

  Evelyn sighed as her knees weakened and her body went limp against his. The need to cling to him until the stars stopped shining and the earth stopped turning overpowered her. “Don’t ever let me go.” Emotion thickened the walls of her throat, and she tightened her hold on him, hoping she could somehow anchor him to her and keep him from drifting away.

  “Just don’t say you love me.” His fingers fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, closed possessively over her breast.

  She stifled a moan. “Never.”

  Cool air tickled her flesh as her blouse tumbled to the ground. Almost simultaneously, Matt’s shirt disintegrated before her eyes. She took in the sight of his bare chest, let her fingers explore the sheer beauty of him. “How did you do that?” Corded muscles tapered down to a ribbed stomach, which was dusted with a smattering of golden brown hair. Hair that felt soft and springy against her fingertips, like whorls of coarse silk.

  “I’m not really sure.” His voice was breathless, strained. “I don’t feel like a ghost right now.” And with that he lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.

  Matt didn’t understand how this was happening or how he could feel the way he did. It was as if he were made entirely of nerve endings, and they thrummed with each fervid caress, each stolen kiss. Heat zipped through him like lightning, until he glowed with the need to possess Evelyn, taste her, please her like he’d never pleased anyone before. This desire transcended physical need. It started deep at the heart of him and spread to all his limbs, a burning need that was almost painful.

  With eager hands, he stripped away her clothing and took in the splendid sight of her—those luscious curves, her flat stomach, her perfectly proportioned breasts. Everything about her tempted and enthralled him, made him throb with lust. Guiding her to the bed, he blanketed her body with his, amazed to realize that somehow he, too, was naked. He felt her against him, from his breastbone all the way down to his thighs, like satin on rough velvet.

  With a moan, she arched her hips against his, sending white sparks of sensation spearing through him. His groin tightened, and just when he thought he couldn’t get any harder, he did. Somewhere in his lust-smothered mind, he wondered how he could be as intangible as wind one moment and as stiff as stone the next. The answer didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he could have her, and he would even if it killed him.

  Good thing he was already dead.

  He showered worshipping kisses over her body, explored the curve of her hip, the smooth texture of her skin, the sensitive nubs at the center of her breasts. Every taste of her was like a feast, feeding his starved senses until he feared he would explode into a million shards of sparkling light.

  Hungrily, he closed his mouth over her breast, suckling her taut nipple until she shuddered beneath him. Evelyn writhed, cried out his name. “Please,” she gasped. “No more. I need to…feel you…inside me.”

  The words were more potent than an aphrodisiac, making his blood pump faster and his groin kick. “You’re killing me,” he muttered, gliding up her body and kissing her until he quaked with the need to bury himself inside her.

  A guttural sound tore from his throat, and he parted her legs with his knee, tempering himself as he plunged into her warm, welcoming folds. Shimmering heat engulfed him, and in that glorious instant he felt as if they were but one person, forever merged in body and spirit.

  Her legs clung to him as her hips arced to take him deeper, her arms enfolding him like a blanket on a cold day. Wave after wave of pleasure submerged him as they rode the current together, surging and cresting with each rise and fall, until rapture finally overtook them and they collapsed onto each other, sated and spent.

  Afterwards, he held her in the cradle of his arms, stroking her silky hair, breathing in the scent of her—a sweet blend of flowers and rain and the heady musk of a woman well loved.

  Peace, the likes of which he’d never before experienced, swept over him, and in that one perfect moment he had the uncanny feeling that heaven had finally opened its doors to him.

  Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. That’s what Evelyn felt as she snuggled closer to Matt, lulled by his tender caresses. No one had ever made her feel this way before. The last time she’d been with a man he’d given her more pain than pleasure and had completely mortified her afterwards by recounting every sordid detail to all his friends. That whole, miserable experience had soured her against relationships and led her to the conclusion that sex was highly overrated.

  Tonight, everything had changed. She finally understood what it felt like to make love to someone, not only with her body, but with her heart. Never had she felt such sweet agony, such yearning for completion. And when he’d finally entered her, it was as if his very essence had spilled into her soul, crackling inside her until she gleamed from it. In that breathtaking moment, they’d melded so seamlessly that she hadn’t known where she ended and he began.

  She closed her eyes and let contentment wash over her. Her heart felt so full she feared it would burst out of her chest. The feeling was new, choking in its intensity. “Love,” she whispered with awe. “I love you.” The words poured out of her before she could stop them.

  She sensed his body tense, sensed the brief peace they’d found slip away like grains of sand on the shore. A strange, quivering sensation skated up her arm. In less than a heartbeat, she felt Matt turn to vapor beneath her hand, as if the tide truly had swept in and carried him away, leaving only froth behind.

  Jackknifing to a sitting position, she turned to find that he was nothing more than a blinding light, a trembling white shadow. Panic engulfed her. “What’s happening?”

  Shock and bewilderment glimmered on his face. “I don’t know.”

  “Can’t you stop it?” Her voice was frantic, only a notch below a shriek.

  “I’m not doing this. I can’t control it.”

  Slowly, he began to fade until he was nothing but a translucent veil of the thinnest gossamer, as scintillant as an angel. Then, in the time it took for her to intone his name, he was gone.

  Chapter Eight

  Evelyn spent the next few days burrowing in her house in a dejected daze. For hours upon hours, she lay curled in bed with Slippers snuggled beside her, trying to make sense of the past week. Thoughts of Matt kept drifting into her thoughts, banishing all semblance of peace, refusing to grant her the mercy of oblivion. Never before had her home—her life—felt so empty.

  Frozen rain pitter-pattered on her roof, echoed ominously around her, and reminded her how alone she was. Drab, gray light poured through the windows to paint lonely shadows on the walls. Shadows that didn’t speak, or smile or make her laugh. Shadows that couldn’t hold her or make her blood churn.

  She tried to break the monotony by reading, but every word made her cry. She tried to distract herself by cleaning her house, but in every room she saw Matt. Grief clutched her in its punishing grip, and there was nothing she could do to escape it.

  With a despondent sigh, she huddled in bed with the covers drawn up to her chin, trying to forget how Matt had held her, kissed her, made love to her. She swallowed hard against the memories and picked up the remote control. Evelyn rarely watched television. She preferred a good book to the flickering, mind-numbing screen any day. But right now, anesthetizing her mind was exactly what she needed.

  Flippin
g through the channels, she let show after show rescue her from her crippling thoughts. Then, by chance—or perhaps by some design greater than herself—she landed on an entertainment show. And that’s when she saw him, his magnificent picture lighting the screen.

  “Hollywood heartthrob Matt Alexander,” the announcer was saying, “has awakened from a ten-day coma. After a car wreck that nearly killed him, his chances for survival were grim at best, according to Dr. Mike Thompson at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. But two days ago he shocked family, friends, and fans alike by beating the odds and regaining consciousness. His father, screenwriter Jake Alexander, informs us that Matt isn’t lucid yet. He has, however, been calling out one name repeatedly: Evie. Inquiring minds can’t help but wonder, who is this mysterious Evie and how come no one has ever heard of her before?”

  With a zealous cry, she turned off the television set, tossed the remote aside, and jumped out of bed. Excitement effervesced in her veins, energizing her more than a shot of adrenaline. She remembered now—what she’d read about his accident over a week ago. The impact hadn’t killed him. How could she not have realized it sooner?

  Evelyn quickly dressed, then dusted off her suitcase. Happiness gurgled in her chest. Matt was alive, and he was calling for her.

  After dropping Slippers off at Ms. Delaney’s house, Evelyn caught the next flight to L.A. A week ago, the mere thought of traveling across the country on her own would’ve terrified her. Today, purpose drove her, fueled her resolve, and filled her with the sweetest anticipation. She didn’t care that she was going to one of the busiest cities in the United States—a city so big and so alive, it could swallow a person whole. All she cared about was getting to Matt.

  She arrived at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center way past midnight and barreled through the doors, fire licking at her heels. Doggedly, she pried Matt’s room number from a reluctant nurse and sprinted down the winding corridor.

  When she reached his floor, two burly bodyguards blocked his door, refusing to grant her access to his room.

  “Please, you don’t understand,” she begged. “He’s asking for me.”

  The taller of the two took her by the arm and began guiding her to the elevator. “Sorry, Miss, but only family and friends are allowed in.”

  “Evie,” she cried. “I’m Evie.”

  The second bodyguard sniggered. “You and every other woman in the country.”

  Frustration bubbled in her veins. She’d come so far, only a door separated her from the man she loved, and there was no way she’d let two overgrown bullies keep her from him.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” she lied. The moment the guard released her, she darted past him and made a beeline for the door. The second guard tried to stop her, but he was big and clumsy and she was small and fast.

  She burst into Matt’s room with the guards in hot pursuit. For an instant she saw him, lying in the hospital bed, looking weak and wane, his head wrapped in white bandages. Her heart slammed into her ribcage as tears welled in her eyes. She noted the soft rise and fall of his chest, the pallor of skin, his dry, chapped lips. Joy nearly choked her. He was really alive.

  Then the guards were upon her, taking hold of her arms and dragging her away. “Matt!” she cried. “I’m here.”

  “Miss, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” one of the guards advised, escorting her to the door.

  Hopelessness gripped her. Why wouldn’t they let her see him?

  “Evelyn?” That voice—that sweet, gruff, melodic voice. She’d recognize it anywhere, and it filled her soul with glee. “Evie, is that you?”

  The guards released her, looking awestruck. Evelyn laughed and sniffled and hastened to his side. His gaze washed over her like a cool wave on a hot day. Taking hold of his hand, marveling at the warm, silken feel of his palm against hers, she lowered her face to his.

  His other hand rose to her cheek to stroke her. “You came,” he whispered.

  She sank into his caress. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find you?”

  That familiar, crooked grin tugged at his mouth. “If you hadn’t, there isn’t a ghost of a chance I wouldn’t have found you.”

  Epilogue

  By the end of the week, Matt was released from the hospital. He and Evelyn returned to his luxurious Bel Air estate and spent the next two weeks in perfect seclusion, except for Slippers, who Matt had had flown in on his private jet. They sipped champagne by candlelight, sunbathed in the hot California sun, and made love beneath a star-speckled sky, ignoring the vast world that lay beyond the gates.

  The media was in a frenzy. Paparazzi surrounded the grounds, waiting for an opportunity to catch a glimpse of the famous couple. Everyone and his dog wanted to know who this mysterious Evelyn Hyde was and how in heaven’s name she’d managed to capture the heart of Hollywood’s most notorious playboy.

  Matt and Evelyn had no intention of satisfying their curiosity. The only satisfaction they cared about was the one they found in each other. Languid days melted into steamy nights as they devoted hours to exploring each other’s body, giving and receiving pleasure, drowning in the heat of their spellbinding connection. Each time they touched, each time they kissed, energy crackled between them as surely as it had the first time they’d made love. They were linked in body and spirit, two halves of a whole that had finally found completion.

  One cool night, as they sat on the balcony beneath an opalescent moon, Matt nestled his chin in the crook of her neck and whispered, “This feels like paradise.”

  Evelyn nodded and closed her eyes, as the rustling breeze kissed her face. “Mmm, it does.”

  His warm breath sent a fluttering sensation skittering just below her earlobe. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Her eyes instantly sprung open. “Not funny.”

  Laughter rumbled in his throat. “You’re right. Heaven can wait a good fifty years or so.”

  Above them stars twinkled, sending diamond chips rolling across the black velvet sky, and in that brief instant when the night came alive, Matt could’ve sworn he saw Eberhart smiling down at them.

  The one man she wants is the one man destined to destroy her.

  Soul Bound

  © 2012 Anne Hope

  RT Top Pick and Reviewers’

  Choice Award Nominee

  Dark Souls, Book 1

  Sooner or later we all end up dead. Jace Cutler doesn’t have the luxury of staying that way. After receiving a fatal stab wound, he awakens in a hospital room in Portland, Oregon, with no memory and a big hole where his soul used to be. Worst of all is the glow. Everyone is surrounded by a strange white aura he hungers to possess, none more compelling than the one enveloping Dr. Lia Benson.

  Lia has always been ruled by reason, refusing to put stock in such nebulous things as destiny. Until Jace dies in her arms, then miraculously comes back to life. Whenever he’s near, her soul responds and her body burns. And she’s consumed by odd dreams she’s convinced are Jace’s lost memories.

  When Lia is kidnapped, Jace tracks her and discovers a shocking explanation for who—and what—he is. Something no longer human, a dark legacy that until now has lain dormant within him. Something that could destroy the one woman he’d sacrifice everything to protect.

  Enjoy a sample of Soul Bound. The complete book is available for purchase at Amazon.

  Chapter One

  Jace had always suspected that someday someone would try to kill him. He just hadn’t expected it to be tonight. Especially not in some rundown bar that reeked of beer and unwashed flesh.

  He should have, though. The place was ripe with negative energy, this evening more than usual. An undercurrent of violence permeated the air and resonated from the patrons. The tattooed lump of flesh who went by the name of Viper was no exception.

  “Did you say something to me, bitch?” Viper shattered his beer bottle on the corner of the bar and approached him menacingly.

  The biker didn’t resemble
a snake. He was big and round and lumbered more than he slithered, but there was definitely something snakelike about him, a predatory gleam in his eyes that would warn any sane man to back off.

  Sanity had never been one of Jace’s strong points. He had too much anger inside him, was sick and tired of seeing men like Viper terrorize everyone around them and get away with it. “I said, leave the guy alone,” he repeated, ignoring the broken bottle aimed at his throat.

  Viper’s original target had been some lanky accountant-type, who’d walked into The Hangout—a renowned bikers’ bar—dressed in a goddamn suit. Then he’d added insult to injury by ordering a glass of Chardonnay. Smelling blood, Viper had come in for the kill, incessantly poking fun at the man and not allowing him to leave when the idiot realized the error of his ways.

  Jace wasn’t the kind of guy who fought other people’s battles. He usually kept to himself, tried to melt into a crowd. He was an observer, an outcast, someone who went through the motions of living even though he felt half dead inside. Darkness coursed through his veins, a shadow he’d spent most of his life trying to subdue, one that fought to break free and take him over. Maybe tonight it would finally succeed.

  “Guess it’s up to me to teach you to mind your own fucking business.” Swinging his beefy arm, Viper slapped Jace on the back of the neck with a sweaty palm.

  Jace downed his whisky, banged his empty glass on the bar and stood. Meeting Viper’s vicious stare, he quickly calculated his odds of winning.

  Five-to-one, he guessed.

  Metal studs pierced the drunk’s ears and nose, a snake tattoo coiled around his thick arm, and a fine carpet of stubble covered his shaved head. He smelled of tobacco and cognac, of beer and scotch and God knew what else. But what worried Jace the most was the cruelty and despair he sensed in him. Before him stood a man who had nothing to lose.