Ethan still kept his eyes on me. Even after we settled down from the rush of the sex, and after he’d left my body. He pulled off the condom, tied it and got rid of the evidence. But then he was right back, facing me again, his eyes moving over me, looking for my reaction to what we’d just done together.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my lips, tracing them ever so gently.
I smiled at him and answered in a slow voice, “Uh-huh.”
“I’m not even close to being finished with you yet.” He dragged his hand down my neck, over a breast, across my hip to rest on my stomach. “That was—so amazing, I don’t—I don’t want this to be over.” He left his hand splayed there and leaned forward to kiss me slowly and thoroughly, almost reverently. I could tell he was going to ask for something. “Are you—do you take birth control, Brynne?”
“Yes,” I whispered against his lips. I was right. He would be surprised at the reason, but I wasn’t sharing that information tonight.
“I want—I want to come inside you. I want to be here with nothing in between.” He pressed his fingers into my slick folds and stroked back and forth. “Right here.”
His words were a surprise, though. Most men didn’t want to take the chance. My body reacted to his touch without volition, unable to keep from flexing toward his fingers. A sound of pleasure came from my throat.
“My corporation—regular medicals for everyone—we have to be fit, including me. I can show you the report, Brynne, I’m clean, I promise,” he said, nuzzling at my neck and sliding long, purposeful fingers over my tingling clit.
“But what if I’m not?” I panted.
He frowned and stilled his hand. “How long has it been since you’ve . . . been with someone?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, a long time.”
He narrowed his eyes just a fraction. “Like a week-long time, or months-long time?”
A week is so not a long time. Why I answered him, I have no idea other than it was part and parcel of what you got with Ethan. He demanded answers, he asked pointed questions, he just had a way about him that was nearly impossible for me to ignore when he probed into places I didn’t want him to go. “Months” was my answer and as detailed as he would get right now.
His face relaxed. “So . . . is that a yes?” He rolled fully on top of me and trapped my hands intertwined with his, his knees splitting my legs wide open so he could settle in between them. “Because I want you again. I want in you again. I want to make you come with my cock so deep you’ll never forget I was there. I want to come inside you, Brynne, and feel that with you.”
I could feel him huge right now; hard, hot, probing me, and ready to sink in all the way. And vulnerable as I was beneath him, in this moment I’d never felt more secure.
He kissed me deep, his tongue claiming me like before. It was a demonstration of what he wanted to do with his cock. I understood him very clearly most of the time. Ethan was not confusing in the slightest.
“I trust you, Ethan, and you won’t get me pregnan—”
“Fuck . . . yeeees,” he moaned on a thick slide of his bare cock against the still tingling walls of my sex. “Oh, baby, you feel so good. I’m—I am so fucking lost in you right now . . .”
And that was how it went with him the second time. He moved slower this round, more controlled, like he wanted to savor the experience. It was no less satisfying either, because Ethan made me come until I was nothing but a limp vessel for his driving flesh.
He felt bigger inside me, harder, his balls slapping my drenched slit with every slide, and then he froze, his spine curving on a beautiful downward penetration that connected us so deeply I felt he was a part of me in that instant.
Ethan choked out my name and stayed buried just like he’d said he wanted to, and then a few, small, short jerks to milk everything from his tip until he stopped completely, breathing heavily and still between my legs.
He sucked lightly at my neck as I stroked over his back, the smooth muscles hot and damp with sweat. The room smelled like sex and whatever his delicious cologne was. I really needed to find out the name of it. I felt uneven ridges under my fingertips. Lots of them. Like scars? He shifted off me and my hands fell away. I knew better than to ask.
But he didn’t go far. Ethan moved to his side and propped himself up and stared at me some more. “Thank you for that,” he whispered, tracing my face with one fingertip, “and for trusting me.” He smiled at me again. “I love that you’re here in my bed.”
“How long has it been since someone was in this bed with you, Ethan?” If he could ask, then so could I.
He grinned, looking very smug. “It’s been since . . . never, my darling. I don’t bring women here.”
“Last I checked I was a woman.”
He raked suggestive eyes over my body before answering. “Definitely a woman.” He met my eyes. “But still, I don’t bring other women here.”
“Oh . . .” I sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet to my breasts. How in the hell is that not a lie? “That surprises me. I would think that you’d get more offers than you could possibly use.”
He tugged the sheet down and revealed my breasts. “Don’t destroy my view, please, and the operative word is use, my sweet. I don’t care for being used, and women use men just as often as the other way round.” He curled up beside me against the headboard and traced over a breast with one finger. “But I don’t mind if you use me. You get a special pass.”
I snorted and removed his hand. “You are far too handsome for your own good, Ethan—and you know it. That British charm will not get you a free pass with me on any day.”
He made a sarcastic noise. “And you are one tough Yank. I thought I was going to have to pick you up and throw you in my car the other night.”
“It’s fortunate you didn’t, or this nice shag we’ve just enjoyed? Never would’ve happened.” I shook my head slowly with a smirk.
He tickled me at the ribs and made me squeal. “So it was just a nice shag for you, huh?”
“Ethan!” I batted his hands away and scrambled to the edge of the bed.
He dragged me back and pinned me beneath him, a huge grin on his face. “Brynne,” he drawled.
And then he kissed me. Just slow and soft and gentle, but it felt intimate and special. Ethan settled me against his side and adjusted our bodies under the sheets, his heavy arm draped over and securing me. I felt myself grow sleepy in the warm bed with him. I knew it was a bad idea. Rules are rules and I was breaking them.
“I shouldn’t stay the night, Ethan; I really need to go . . .”
“No, no, no, I want you to stay,” he insisted, speaking into my hair.
“But I shouldn’t—”
“Shhhhhhh,” he interrupted me like he had many times before and kissed my words away. He stroked over my head, trailing his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t fight him. Not after tonight. The security felt too wonderful, my body too drained from all the orgasms, his hard strength too comfortable for me to battle him on the issue. So I slept.
. . . The terrors are real. They come in the night when I sleep. I try to fight them, but they nearly always win. Everything is dark because my eyes are closed. But I hear the sounds. Cruel words about someone, disgusting words and names. And terrifying laughter . . . They think it’s funny to degrade this person. My body feels heavy and weak. Still I hear them laughing and replaying all of the evil they have done . . .
I woke up screaming and alone in Ethan’s bed. I figured out where I was when he came crashing into the bedroom, eyeballs wide. I started crying the minute I saw him. The sobs just got louder when he sat on the bed and grabbed me.
“It’s okay—I’ve got you.” He rocked me against his chest. Ethan was dressed and I was still naked in his bed. “You just had a bad dream, that’s all.”
“Where did you go?” I managed to ask in between gasps.
“I was just in my office—these fucking Olympics—I work at night lately . . .” He pressed his lips to my head. “I was right here the whole time until you fell asleep.”
“You should have taken me home! I told you I wouldn’t stay the night!” I struggled to get out of his arms.
“Christ, Brynne, what is the problem? It’s two a.m. in the bloody morning. You are exhausted. Can’t you just—why won’t you sleep here?”
“I don’t want it. It’s too much! I can’t do it, Ethan!” I pushed against his chest.
“Jesus Christ! You let me bring you to my house and fuck you wildly but you won’t sleep in my bed for a few hours?” He brought his face down to mine. “Talk. Why are you scared here with me?”
He looked hurt and sounded more than a little offended. And I felt like a cruel bitch on top of being an emotional, fucked-up mess. He also looked beautiful in his faded jeans and soft gray T-shirt. His hair was all mussed and he needed a shave around his goatee, but he looked as devastatingly gorgeous as usual, even more so because I was seeing the intimate Ethan, the one he did not show in public.
I started crying again and telling him I was sorry. I really meant it too. I was sorry that parts of me were damaged and broken but it didn’t change the facts either.
“I’m not scared with you. It’s so complicated, Ethan. I’m—I am sorry!” I scrubbed at my face. “I want to go home . . .”
“Shhhhhhh . . . there’s nothing to be sorry for. You just had a bad dream, and I can’t let you go home like this. You’re too upset.” Ethan reached for a box of tissues beside the bed and handed it to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I managed to sputter through three tissues.
“That’s fine, Brynne. When you feel comfortable you can if you want to.” His hand rubbing circles on my back felt wonderful; I just didn’t want to close my eyes again in case I fell back to sleep. He pulled me down on the mattress with him. “Let me hold you for a while?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be right here until you fall asleep, and if you wake and you don’t see me, I’m just across the main room in my office. The light will be on. I would never leave you alone in my house. You’re totally safe here with me. Security guy, remember?”
I grabbed more tissues and blew my nose, utterly wreaked and mortified at the situation. I did my best to bluff my way out of it, though, and I knew what I was going to do. I gave a soft laugh at his joke and let him tuck me back into his bed. I faced his chest and breathed in the scent I absolutely loved and tried to remember how beautiful it was. I focused on the feel of Ethan holding me safe, and the warmth of his big body. I tried to capture it all in my head, because I would not get this experience again.
I pretended to fall sleep.
I evened my breathing and faked it. And after a while I felt him slide off the bed and slip out of the room. I even heard the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor. I watched the clock and gave it another five minutes before I got up.
I walked out into Ethan’s living room buck-ass naked and scooped up my clothes. I removed his deep purple tie from the pile and smoothed it before draping it over the arm of his sofa, folded in half. I wished I could take it with me as a remembrance.
I got myself dressed quickly in front of the huge glass window and held my shoes in my hand rather than put them on my feet. I picked up my duffel and headed for the door. I could feel his semen wet between my legs, draining out, and the thought made me want to weep. Everything felt wrong now. I had ruined it.
Once I was out the front door, I ran for the elevator and pushed the call button. I shoved my shoes on my feet and dug around in my bag for a brush. I dragged that brush through my I’ve-just-been-fucking hair in brutal sweeps. The poor tangled mess didn’t stand a chance, but it was better than nothing. The elevator arrived and I hopped on, stowing my brush and checking my wallet for cab fare as I descended.
When I emerged into the lobby the doorman greeted me. “May I assist you, madam?”
“Err . . . yes, Claude? I need to get home. Can you help me hire a cab?” I sounded desperate even to my ears. No telling what Claude might be thinking.
He did not show the slightest reaction, though, as he picked up a phone. “Ahhh, there we have one coming in now.” Setting down the phone, Claude came around from behind his desk and held the lobby door open for me. He helped me to the cab and shut me in. I thanked him, gave the driver my address, and looked out the window.
The view into the elegant lobby was clear at night, so I could see when Ethan burst out of the elevators and spoke to Claude. He ran outside, but my cab was already in motion. He threw up his arms in frustration and rolled his head back. I could see his feet were still bare. I could see the look of confusion and hurt on his face when our eyes met—me inside the car and him on the street. I could see Ethan. And it was probably the last time I ever would.
