in for a quick kiss. I was careful not to ramp things up like in the kitchen, but even this quick contact felt full of promise, and it made me want all sorts of things I couldn’t have.
Chapter 7
Dear friends, I find I am obsessed with blue and brown combinations lately. And not just any blue—a crisp ocean blue, more turquoise than pastel. The brown is a deep, tweedy nut brown, shot through with reds and caramel hints. Thus was born my newest project on the needles…—Evren’s Yarnings
We kissed in the car. We kissed on my front step as I walked him out after we deposited the kids in their beds. We snuck a quick kiss in the back hallway of People’s Cup after Knit Night. We were the kings of sneaky looks and weighted pauses and lightning-fast kisses in this…friendship that neither of us paused to redefine as something else. We were friends. Now we were friends who kissed, which clearly was outside the boundaries Ev had set for us, but I wasn’t about to remind him of that. He still didn’t date casually or date bisexuals; I still didn’t have time for serious. But kissing? Everyone had time for a bit of kissing.
What we lacked was time for more than kissing.
“I don’t have to be in until two tomorrow,” I said to Ev on the phone one night. “Weird short shift. But it’s Knit Night, so I’ll see you there right?”
“Of course. Violet and Mira and the triplets would come after me if I didn’t show.” He’d picked up on my nicknames for a number of the knitters, which was cute. Similarly, I occasionally found myself doing his habit of phrasing statements as questions. We were rubbing off on each other. But not the kind of rubbing I really wanted.
“Yeah, they would. All the ladies want to adopt you.”
Ev made a dismissive noise. He didn’t believe me that he had a huge fan club—attendance numbers were up at Knit Night and despite what Ev thought, he was the primary reason. And with Knit Night getting even more popular, a trickle-over effect had started with knitters showing up in clumps on other nights of the week and coming by to grab their morning coffee from us. Business was up for the first time since Chris left, and that had Randy doling out more hours to me and me grateful to Knit Night for a whole variety of reasons.
“But why not come here for lunch?” he asked. “I will take my lunch break and cook for you. Mira is having a good week—it’s a rest week from chemo, and she will be downstairs in the shop. I have moved a rocking chair there for her to sit and knit while Adele works the counter. Mira is too social to spend all day with the TV. She takes her energy from others—”
“Back up. You mean we could be alone? Like alone-alone?” A hot spark chased its way up my spine.
“I do believe that is what I said, yes. My bedroom, it is over the stockrooms. Very private,” he continued conversationally. “But tell me, are you a screamer? Because we may have to entice you to be quiet…”
I swallowed hard. I loved the little bit of kinky, pushy edge Ev showed from time to time. “I can be quiet. Give me something to bite if I’m not. I’m not crazy about being gagged.”
“Something to bite? Oh, Brady, we may need more than a lunch hour.”
“Tell me about it.”
Ev met me at the back entrance of Iplik, where we snuck upstairs like a couple of teenagers. He was older than me, twenty-eight to my twenty-three, but I liked how much more settled he was in his skin than most guys my age. Still, for all our comparable maturity, we laughed and pushed at each other on the stairs.
I could have entered through the front of the store—I knew Ev had told Mira where he’d be and she was nothing if not supportive of Ev’s and my friendship, but something about having a secret lunch date had me kissing him before we even reached the top of the stairs.
“Why do I feel like we’re getting away with something?” Ev mused as he broke away from the kiss to open the door.
“Because we are.” I chased him into the apartment, trying to capture him for another kiss. Actually, to be more accurate, I wanted him to capture me. Push me up against the wall…However, to my dismay, he led me to the kitchen.
“I want to show you what I made for lunch—”
“Ev. Really? There’s food?” I groaned. “I thought—”
“Dolma, köfte, and cacik. I thought you would like to try.”
“I would.” I was trying desperately to be a good sport and not be disappointed that I wasn’t getting intimately acquainted with his bed.
“Ah! See?” He opened the refrigerator to reveal a neat row of glass jars. “For you to take. After. And here is a lunch sack for you.” He picked up a small knitted cotton tote from the counter.
“You made this?” I fingered the thick spongy yarn. Blocks of blue and brown formed the sort of mosaic pattern I was starting to associate with Ev’s signature look.
“Yes. The blue reminded me of your eyes.”
Pile of goo, party of one. He noticed little things about me, like when I changed my earrings out or whether my hair was back or up on a given day. “You mean it’s for me? Not just to borrow?”
“Of course it is for you. Who else did I make a takeaway lunch for?” Ev bristled a bit. “But it is for after. Don’t forget to grab it if you are…pressed for time.”
“After.” I leaned against the counter, content to let him orchestrate this show. “And I’m going to be pressed for time?”
“Very.” And then he was finally on me, pressing me against the cabinets with a hard kiss. He tasted like strong coffee and sugar and a whole lot of pent-up lust. Breathing hard, he pulled away to tug me down a side hall I hadn’t seen before. “Someday I’m going to do very improper things to you in that kitchen.”
“Promises, Ev, promises. Show me this room with a door.”
“And a lock.” He raised one dark eyebrow as he opened a doorway. “After you.”
The bedroom was a very Ev space—lots of browns and grays held together with unexpected splashes of color like a teal pillow and a terracotta knit throw draped over the chair in the corner. A full-size bed sat against one wall, and I didn’t care that it wasn’t bigger. We didn’t need a lot of room because I planned for us to be mashed together soon enough. It was higher than normal beds, with drawers under it for extra storage and a thick wooden headboard and footboard.
Because time was of the essence, I toed off my shoes and started to pull off my shirt, but Ev made that disapproving noise of his again.
“Oh, right. Clothing on.” I laughed at him. “I forgot. You are a man of particular tastes.”
“Yes, yes, I am. And right now, my favorite flavor is you.”
Ev kissed me like we had all the time in the world, which was strangely relaxing. He slid his lips over mine with whisper-soft precision—light but expertly angled for maximum tease. I exhaled around the kisses, the rush-rush of my everyday life falling away. We stood next to the bed, but it seemed less urgent now, like it would wait patiently for Ev’s fantasy to unspool. I’d had a lot of kisses over the years from both genders, but Ev was the first to kiss me like I was precious, worth savoring. Ev kissed like I mattered.
His eyes were closed as his tongue finally slipped inside and dominated my mouth, but I felt more seen than I had in years. Every time I tried to start grinding, Ev’s hands stilled my hips. He nuzzled my beard, kissed my ears, licked my neck, blessed my eyebrows and nose with feathery kisses, and still no grinding.
“Please. Ev.” My voice was already lower and needier than usual.
Ignoring my pleas, he expertly fended off my own roving hands as he let down my hair, briefly burying his face in it like he wanted to memorize my shampoo. Pushing the neck of my shirt down, he sucked along my collarbone.
“Killing me