Hollow Men Read Free Page A

nodded, giving him a wan smile in the mirror. “Just noticing I look like shit.” I quickly began to brush my teeth.
    “You could never look like shit, El,” he said, straight-faced, then left me to my ablutions.
    I climbed into bed after hitting the overhead light. Evan had found the small reading lamp attached to his bunk. “Okay if I read? It won’t keep you up?”
    “It’s fine,” I said. “No worries.”
    “Some interesting books in here. The Art of War …”
    “My dad’s,” I laughed. “Never read it.”
    “ Hot Tropical Nights?” he asked. I could hear him grinning.
    “My mom’s.”
    “Ever read that one?”
    I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shut up, Evan.”
    “Oh…I’ll have to look for the good parts.”
    I turned on my side and tried to sleep. Trying my best to ignore the sudden hot flare of lust in my stomach. “You do that.”
    I dozed. But not for long. I was lulled by the sound of turning pages and oddly the presence of another person. The sleep was swift but restorative. I rarely slept for any length of time anymore. Simply because there was so much to be concerned about. So much to track. Real men and women were often more dangerous than the hollow. The hollow simply operated on a single need—hunger.
    I woke when Evan flipped off his light. There was utter silence but for his breathing. No sound came from the streets above, so it seemed all was well. Three things filled my head: Evan’s respiration, a faint ringing in my ears from the silence and the bass drum beat of my heart.
    I waited for the intense alertness to pass. For my heart to calm down. For my urges to pass.
    They didn’t.
    “Ev?” He wasn’t sleeping. I could tell. I could feel it.
    “Yeah?”
    “You asleep?”
    “Am I talking to you?” He was smiling. I could tell.
    “Can I—I mean, you won’t get all—” I sighed and simply shut up. I crawled out of my bunk and traveled the five big paces from my bunk to his. I just stood there, not quite feeling him but sensing him.
    In the dark, fingers found the waistband of my leggings, tugged me a step forward. “You coming in or you just gonna stand there and taunt me, Eleanor?”
    I moved onto his bunk, my body folding into the small space with ease. We were face-to-face and belly-to-belly and the warmth coming off him was unbelievable.
    “You’re not going to think…” I stopped talking for a moment just to push my hands flat against his hard chest, his lean stomach. I felt the muscles under my palms jump a little. Felt the rigid length of his erection press to the front of me. He kissed me, and I forgot what I was going to say.
    “Think what?” Evan broke the kiss. His lips traveled from my mouth to my jaw, tingling arcs of electricity seemed to zig and zag along my skin wherever his lips touched me. “That we’re going to get married and have babies because you’re lonely and I’m lonely, and we’re so fucking good together, El?” His fingers pushed back down under my leggings, the warmth of his skin seeming to burn me.
    Between my legs, I grew wetter. In my heart, I grew needier.
    “It will be okay. We can just…have this connection?” Now I was kissing him. And once I’d started, I couldn’t imagine stopping. His mouth parted, his tongue danced over mine. Big hands gripped me at the small of my back and trapped me to his body. I found his erection through his boxers—he’d ditched his jeans—and squeezed.
    He framed my face with his hands, and though I could barely see the shine in his eyes from the monitors high up on the shelf, I could tell he had that intent Evan Blackwood look. The look he got when he was serious as a heart attack. “This can be whatever you need it to be, El. Whatever it is you need.”
    “Right,” I said. Then I pushed my hand past the barrier of his boxer briefs and stroked that impossibly hard yet soft skin with a firm grip. His hips arched toward me, and he gasped against the side of my face. I swept my thumb