By the time he made it to the kitchen for tea and toast, still in his sleep shorts, Evie was completely ready for the day. How could he be related to a morning person?
"Mornin'," he grunted, shoving some bread in the toaster.
"Good morning," she replied faintly, voice quiet.
Well, this was awkward. Jacob's whole night had been spent restlessly, roiling guilt mixed in with inappropriate dreams. Or maybe they were inappropriate daydreams. At some stage it became hard to tell.
All he knew was that the image of her coming was burned into his retinas. "Evie-"
"I have to go," she said, clattering to her feet and grabbing her bag.
"Overcrowding was rife during the industrial revolution as London became a larger urban centre, problems with crime and disease constantly plaguing the city as a whole…"
The words soared over Evie's head as she sat, chin propped on her palm, staring out the window as rain lashed against the panes.
How were they going to recover from this? Did anyone recover from this? It wasn't as though she could go to someone for advice. Ring up the Samaritans and say Hello, yes, I let my brother stick his hand down my pants, please tell me how we go back to normal.
The memory made her flush all over again, the sensation associated with far less shame than it ought to have been.
The rest of her classes were an equal blur. By the time she hit lunch, she was locked in a staring competition with her mobile, trying to decide her next step.
A voice cut through her daze. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes—" she looked up and found a concerned Mr. Green hovering over her table. "Oh, hello, Sir."
He had a bundle of grading in his hands like always, perpetually looking kindly and a bit harried. "It's not like you to be distracted."
"Yes, well, I'm having a bit of an off-day."
He made a sympathetic noise before moving on. She waited until he was a few steps away to quickly screw up her courage, tap out "we need to talk", and hit send.
She rather expected Jacob to take a while to get back to her. Instead, her mobile buzzed almost immediately.
Pick u up again?
That would do, she supposed. She let him know the time and tried to put it out of her mind.
This whole thing was a nightmare. Jacob sleepwalked through the day, trying to settle his focus on something- anything- else. When he got Evie's message, it was with a sinking feeling in his stomach; he'd be lucky if he got out of this with her willing to speak to him ever again.
The minutes crawled until he could go and get her.
The light rain made his bike a bit less than ideal, but Father had taken the car, so he didn't have a choice. It might have been his imagination, but he felt like she was clutching him even more tightly than yesterday as they drove home.
Shivering, they staggered into the house and went to get towels. Standing in the bathroom, he rubbed at his arms as she raked her hands through her hair. "So, you wanted to talk?"
"Yes," she said slowly. "I mean, about yesterday. Obviously."
Side by side, they looked anywhere but at each other. "Right."
"I..." she swallowed. "I never should've gone to your room. I'm sorry."
He wasn't sorry. "Don't be."
She swivelled to look at him directly, eyes wide. "But- that was wrong. What we did was wrong."
"Yes," he agreed. Because what else could you say?
Mindlessly, he reached out and tucked a stray wet strand behind her ear. When his fingers touched her skin, she shivered, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. "And we can't do it again," she whispered. Despite her words, he watched as she leaned towards him, so slowly that it was possible that she hadn't noticed herself moving.
"We can't," he agreed, feeling himself compelled as he bent to meet her, a flower turning to face the sun.
There was a moment's hesitation when they were a hair's breadth away. If yesterday had been a fever dream, today was stone-cold reality in comparison. He could see every freckle, the beads of water on her skin, the flick of her tongue as she licked her lips.
Before he could watch this slip away, he shoved away his screaming moral compass and closed the last of the distance between them.
She tasted like mint and home, mouth soft and warm against his. He tentatively settled a hand on her waist and, like magic, she melted against him. He felt her arms reach for his shoulders, one of her hands settling on the back of his neck.
She pulled away to look at him with blown pupils. "This is wrong."
He barely managed to nod and say "yes" before she pulled him back in, this time parting her lips with a tentative swipe of her tongue.
This was such a fucking terrible idea.
But God, she smelled so good, something sort of soapy and floral that surrounded her in a little cloud. And when he caught her lower lip with a nip of his teeth, she whimpered beautifully.
He was sure that she had to be able to feel his erection pressing against her, but she didn't draw away.
He was already going to hell anyway, so it only felt right to try and see more of her. Shifting his kisses along her jawline and down her neck, he had managed to open the button on her blazer when she suddenly clapped a hand over his wrist.
When he pulled back, he saw why; the white shirt was completely transparent from the rain, the lines and fabric of a highly sensible looking beige bra front and centre. He blinked. In this new and strange and upside down world, apparently Evie could even make beige look sexy.
She stepped away and briskly wrapped her hair in her towel. "I should get out of these damp things," she muttered, quickly disappearing down the hallway.
Hiding in her room seemed like the best decision for the rest of the afternoon.
Evie dreaded seeing everyone when it was time to eat, but she needn't have worried. Jacob had supper in his room; Father, when she checked on him later, was asleep on his desk with an open bottle of brandy next to his head.
She was hesitating again. Surely, now, it was too late to pretend that things could be normal. But did that make it okay to- well, nothing would make this okay. Should she go ahead anyway?
The ache between her legs desperately wanted her to.
Rather than waiting at the threshold, she simply let herself into his room this time. Jacob looked up from his computer as she came in, his desk chair creaking as he shifted his weight. "You could knock," he said, clicking his laptop shut.
She just crossed the floor to his bed and crawled under the covers. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she held the blankets up, beckoning him over.
"He's home," Jacob said, his meaning obvious.
"He's passed out again," she said quietly. She watched as his eyebrows went even higher, the implication settling in.
When he stood, he first clicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness. There was a shuffle as she heard the sound of fabric rustling.
There was no possible way that he couldn't hear her heart beating in her chest, it was so unbearably loud. "What are you doing?"
"Going to bed," he said, voice low. "I sleep in my pants."
The thought sent another thrill. "Oh—"
"You can leave, if you'd like." His tone was pointed.
By way of answer, she just shuffled over in his bed to make a little more room.
When he slid in next to her, he was warm and solid, the two of them cramped a bit in the tight space. Relaxing, she let out a happy sigh right before he abruptly rolled on top of her, pressing down for a bruising kiss.
Their first kiss had been hesitant, she realized now, and this was anything but. It was hard and demanding, possessive and forceful- but most of all, it was exciting, and it made that pulse between her legs grow in intensity.
He drew back and slid his thumb along the hem of her shirt. "So this is happening, then?"
It shouldn't be happening. This was all kinds of wrong. But the voice telling her to leave was absolutely drowned out by the chorus that wanted him to keep touching her, to never stop touching her.
Hesitantly, she slid her hand down his front until she could run the heel of her palm along his length.
He hissed and tensed, his breath hot on her shoulder. It made her feel powerful to provoke such a reaction, a happy purring settling into the back of her mind.
And he had already done the equivalent, had he not? Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander?
Heart in her throat, she slipped her fingers past the hem of his pants.
"Shit," he breathed quietly, "shit, Evie, shit—"
The tactile sense of it was new, with ridges and veins that she could lightly feel under her fingertips. It felt surprisingly hot and velvety in her hand, though she wasn't sure what she had expected. Nothing, really; there had been some fumbled kisses with Alec before, but that was a far cry from this.
She tried a few experimental strokes and that provoked an actual groan from him, one which he quickly stifled into the pillow next to her head.
Quickening her pace, she worked until he was twitching his hips into her hand, panting breaths coming out as the muscles of his arms clenched on either side of her head.
Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed her wrist. He pushed up to look at her, his stare intense, almost frightening. "Are you going to avoid me again tomorrow?"
"What?"
"I don't want to do this if you're going to avoid me again."
She blinked at him. They were both breathing like they'd just run up three flights of stairs, adrenaline and lust and fear spiking into a potent swirl of emotion. "And if I don't avoid you?"
He looked confused for a moment.
"If I don't avoid you tomorrow, do we keep going?"
His words were rasped. "Do you want to?" They shot a thrill straight down her spine, with all of their implied promise.
Oh, damn it all, she was doomed. "Yes," she breathed, and when she started to move her hand again, he didn't try to stop her. It was intoxicating to watch his outline shiver over her as she worked, the dim light of the room obscuring him so that he could've been- well, he could've been anybody.
But he wasn't, of course.
"Fuck—" he sputtered, taking a shuddering breath as he wrenched her hand away, his hips moving in erratic thrusts. "Oh fuck, I'm- fuck—" His spine bowed and she felt his knuckles brush her stomach as he held himself, seemingly trying to contain the mess.
Still, she felt a few drops of dampness slide over her exposed skin. She ought to have been disgusted. Any minute now, she was sure, the disgust would kick in…
But it didn't.
"Sorry," he slurred, groping around for tissues. "Didn't want to get that on you."
"It's ok," she said quietly. Shuffling, she scooted to the end of the bed to leave.
"Where are you going?" He sounded confused.
"I can't stay here all night."
"Yes, but what about you—"
"I can wait," she said. The implication was terrifying. I can wait for next time.
There was a silence as he took that in. "Right," he finally said. "See you tomorrow?" She could hear the question he was actually asking: are we still speaking?
"Yes," she agreed. "See you tomorrow."