Chapter 288: I'm Happy to Help

Avery feels her shoulders stiffen, and a blush creeps up to her cheeks. Evan smirks knowingly, and she realizes he was just playing with her. He probably has my bag, she thinks. Maybe he knew all along. He's just waiting to see if I admit it or not.  

He steps forward and raises his eyebrows, waiting for her to confess. Part of her wants to. She wants him to know she was the one who made him moan a few hours ago; she wants him to know that there's still a spark between them. But it won't change anything—she made a deal with Andrew.

She takes a deep breath and says, "You must have confused me for some other woman."

Evan laughs and asks, "Really?"

Avery nods and walks toward the door, trying to preserve her dignity. She pulls it open but freezes as Evan's voice fills the room.

"I've only ever had one woman: you," Evan says. "It was only you in the past, only you now, and it'll only be you in the future. Do you remember when I asked you to hit me four times when the snake bit me? You didn't do it then, but I want you to do it now."

Avery spins around in shock, but Evan's mouth isn't moving. His lips are turned up in a smirk, but he's not talking. He holds something small above his head—the recording pen. She lunges toward him and tries to grab it.

"Give it back!" she shouts.

"Oh, is this yours?" Evan asks, twirling the pen between his fingers.

"Yes, it's mine," she says.

"If it's yours, why does it have my voice?" Evan asks.

"I didn't have time to delete it," Avery lies.

"Then delete it now," he says.

He balances the pen on his open palm and offers it to her. She reaches for it, but he snatches it away before she can take it. He grabs her arm and pulls her toward him.

She stumbles and falls against his bare chest, and he staggers backward onto the couch. He lands on his back, and she lands on his chest—her face just inches from his warm neck.

"Throwing yourself into my arms, are you?" he asks.

She glares at him and tries to get up. She swings her leg over him, careful to avoid loosening the towel around his hips. Before she realizes what's happening, her back is flat against the sofa, and his body is against hers. She looks up at him breathlessly and tries to move, but she can't. With one hand, he pins her arms above her head, and with the other, he presses play on the recording pen.

He plays the entire recording. Avery looks up at him—his mouth is serious, but there's a strange, almost frenzied light in his eyes. The recording ends, and he plays it again. And then again. Avery wonders if he's going to keep her there all night.

"So why didn't you delete it, hmm?" Evan asks. "I think it's because you listen to it every day. Do you listen to it at night before you meet Andrew in bed? Do you pretend it's me when he makes love to you?"

"Of course not," Avery says, trying to stay calm. "You have a very rich imagination, though. Now please, let me go."

Evan smiles and presses a button on the pen. The recording stops, and the speaker on the pen crackles. A mechanical voice says, "This recording has been played 99 times."

"Did I imagine that voice just now?" Evan asks. "We've just listened to it three or four times. So how do you explain the other 95?"

Avery feels her face go red with embarrassment. Have I really listened to it almost 100 times? She thinks. I had no idea the pen kept track of the playback. This is so embarrassing.

Avery turns her head to the side and whispers, "I was playing the recording you made for Nanny. I must have accidentally pressed the wrong button or something."

"You're telling me you pressed the wrong button 99 times?" Evan asks. "Come on, Avery—if you're going to lie, try harder."

Avery looks beyond Evan's shoulder. The escort is standing a few feet from the sofa, watching jealousy. She sees Avery looking at her and rolls her eyes dramatically. Evan turns to see what she's looking at, and his body tenses with anger.

"You're still here?" Evan shouts. "Get out!"

The escort pouts and starts looking for her clothing. She grabs a heel and her bra and crosses the room to grab her dress.

"I thought I told you to go," Evan says, his voice low and dangerous.

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The escort pales and runs from the room. She pauses at the door, shooting a nasty look at Avery before she leaves. As soon as the door closes, Evan turns back to Avery.

"What do you want to hear?" Avery asks, trying to make her voice as cold and sarcastic as possible. "Do you want me to tell you I was scared I would forget the sound of your voice? Or maybe you want me to tell you that it's the only thing that makes the pain of missing you easier to bear? Or maybe I can say your voice fills the giant void of heartache inside me?"

She closes her eyes to avoid Evan's gaze. His eyes are intense and searching, and she's afraid he'll see through her faked indifference. It's all true—everything I just said is true, she thinks. But I can't tell him that. Still, it feels cruel to mock him like this.

"Why else would you listen to it so many times?" he asks.

"Why do you assume I listened to it on my own?" she asks.

Evan tightens his grip on her wrist until she's worried the bone might break. She gasps in pain and opens her eyes. His face is inches from hers, and his breath is hot and ragged.

"Andrew wants me to tell you that your recording is a terrible cliché," she says, implying she and Andrew listened to it to make fun of him.

"If it's such a terrible cliché, why did he listen to it 100 times?" Evan asks. "And why does he let you bring it everywhere you go?" 

"I think he enjoys conquering a woman you have feelings for," Avery says.

Evan's face is icy and determined, and he grips her wrists even harder. He clearly has no intention of letting her go. 

"Are you satisfied with my explanation?" Avery asks. "If so, please let me go. My fiancé is waiting for me in our room."

She emphasizes the word fiancé to make him jealous. Judging by his murderous look, it works. She struggles, but she can't move even an inch. His strength is overwhelming. 

"If you're so worried about your fiancé, why did you come here?" Evan asks. "Are you looking for a little fun on the side?"

"No, I'm not," Avery snaps. "I came here for my purse."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Evan says, smiling down at her. "Why did you come here before? Why did you let me fuck you against the door?"

"Almost fuck," Avery corrects him.

His smile gets wide, and he lowers her head until the tip of his nose brushes hers. His breath is hot and minty on her face. She knows she should turn her head away, but she can't force herself to do it—her body is surrendering to him. 

"It's not like that," she says. "I thought the room was empty, I was—"

Evan kisses the rest of her sentence away. His lips are firm and violent against hers; he bites her lower lip and thrusts his tongue into her mouth. She moans and moves her tongue to meet his. He releases her hands, and she runs her fingers through his hair and down his back.

In the distance, she hears a vague knocking, but she ignores it. The knocking gets louder, and then she hears voices. She freezes under Evan and tries to push him away.

"Mr. Clifford, you can't come in," Robert's voice says.

"Like hell, I can't," Andrew says. "I can't find my fiancee, and I suspect she's in here."

"Why would your fiancee be here?" Robert asks. "This is a big ship. She could be anywhere. If you'd like, I can send some of our men to help you look."

"Oh shut up and get out of my way," Andrew snarls. "If you don't move right now, I'll shoot you."

"No one is allowed in here without Mr. Howel's permission," Robert says calmly. "If you insist on coming in, you'll have to do it over my dead body."

Avery balls her hands into fists and pounds against Evan's chest. All the air seems to have left the room, and she feels like she can't breathe. If Andrew catches her with Evan, Charles is as good as dead. Evan's eyes fill with sly cunning; he presses his finger to his lips and winks at her.

He stands up, lifting her with him. She wraps her legs around his waist to keep from falling and stares at him in horror. Slowly, he walks toward the bedroom, nibbling her earlobe as he goes. Then he throws her on the bed and climbs on top of her. His eyes are filled with desire, and his erection pressed against the towel.

"Since you seem to like cheating on your fiancé, I'm happy to help," he says.

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