All Chapters of Resisting The Playboy's Charm: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

CarolinaWe climb back into the car, and Evans peels out of the parking lot, leaving the park—and my mother, wherever she is—behind. He drives into the heart of the city, and neither of us says much as we go. I take the drive to try to compose myself so that my face isn't red from crying once we arrive at the restaurant.To my surprise, he pulls up outside of an awning with a valet booth. He gets out of the car and hands the keys to a young man in a crimson suit, who takes it away."Evans," I say to him as we stand on the curb, watching the car. "Are you sure you—""Yes."He answers before I even finish asking the question, and it makes me smile despite my tumultuous emotions. He lays a gentle hand on my upper arm and gestures to the front doors, which are gilded and have large glass panes. This place seems considerably more upscale than anywhere I would have taken myself to dinner—or even than the restaurant where I used to work.Once inside, he approaches the host, who is as smartly

EvansThe look on Carolina's face makes my chest tighten, but at the same time, it soothes something inside me.I've never told this story in full to anyone, as far as I can remember. Declan and Reed both know all of the details, but I've never bared my soul this way, not even to them. It's affecting, to let someone in like this—to show them the real me—and to see them look at me this way.With tenderness, and heat, and an emotional understanding that makes me want to admit even more. To tell her everything about myself, everything I can think of, and wait to hear everything about her.I'm not at all surprised when Carolina leans over and kisses me. When she starts to pull back, I cup my hand around the back of her neck, keeping her there for another kiss.By the time we finally break apart, she's flushed, her breathing hot and quick."Maybe we should get out of here," she whispers.I hum, as if in deliberation, then say, "No, I don't think so."Her brow furrows in confusion. "No?""I

EvansAlmost before she finishes speaking, I pull out and then slam back in, rocking her forward with the force of my thrust. Her fingers, which were flat against the wall, curl as a soft noise pours from her lips, and the sight and sound of her is almost more than I can take.She really is like a drug.And fuck it all, I'm already so damn addicted that I don't know how I lived without the high of this for all those years before she came into my life."Oh god," she whimpers as I set a hard, fast pace. "Oh god, Evans, please. Fuck. Fuck!""Shh," I remind her when her voice starts to rise again on the last word. "We need to be quiet, remember? Or do you want the whole restaurant to know you're in here begging for my cock? Because I'll be honest, I kind of do."I chuckle darkly as I say the last bit, and Carolina clenches around me in response. I can tell the thought of it turns her on, just like it does to me—although I already know that if anyone even looks at her askance when we leave

CarolinaThe fish section of the pet store is mesmerizing to any kid on Earth, and, let's be honest, most adults. The rippling sound of a dozen water filters, the sheen of multicolored scales, the low lighting... it's the perfect place to keep a child entertained.As soon as he sees the fish tanks, Brandon darts straight over to them, pressing his palms against the glass."Look at these ones!" he says excitedly, jabbing his finger at a school of shiny neon tetras. "Look at the colors!""Don't tap the glass," I warn him. "They don't like that."He withdraws his hands quickly, but the look of wonder doesn't fade from his face.A few weeks ago, Brandon's pre-K got a tank full of fish for the classroom, and Brandon has been talking about it non-stop, asking for a fish of his own. I've known for a long time that he loves animals; it's high time he got his first pet.I ran the suggestion by Evans before coming here, and he agreed to it on the grounds that he wasn't going to be the one to fe

EvansCarolina and I are up late into the night, continually checking on and taking care of Brandon. We bring him fresh cups of water, clean out the trash can, and try to coax him into eating a plain, unbuttered slice of toast.Carolina also digs through the infrequently-used medicine cabinet, searching for a kids' fever reducer. She urges Brandon to swallow a capful of it, and he frowns at the unpleasant taste of the thick, purple liquid.Meanwhile, on her instruction, I pour cool water onto a hand towel, then fold it up to lay it across Brandon's forehead.Carolina is calm and collected throughout. She seems to feel bad for Brandon, and talks to him softly, trying to comfort him, but she herself isn't afraid.I wish I could say the same. Fear grips me each time I look at the little boy, so small and fragile, bundled underneath his blankets, sweating out a fever. The weight of the responsibility I took on when I adopted Brandon always weighs extra heavy at times like these.Of course