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His laugh is low and soft and makes my heart hurt. I love hearing him laugh. It’s on my list of favorite things.
“I did not preen, or gush.”
I sense amusement even though I can barely make out his features. He gets up on an elbow and stares down, the space between us crackling with sexual tension.
“Did you sleep with her?” I sound bitchy, I know I do. But I can’t manage to hide my feelings anymore. I am downright exhausted from hiding my feelings. Exhausted.
“Yes. On and off over the years. We were both busy with our careers.” I sneak a quick peek and find him watching me with a soft smile on his face. “We saw each other when we could… no questions asked. She’s was a good friend, is a good friend. We met in law school.”
Good friend, my ass. Justin is a good friend and I have no desire to play hide the salami with him. Not even for convenience. Not even out of desperation. I’ll shut up now. I’ll shut up because if I open my trap I’ll say stuff I shouldn’t.
“She’s also happily married.”
“So she broke it off. Otherwise you’d still be with her.” I refuse to look at him. I refuse to see the longing on his face for Jane.
He remains quiet, which of course compels me to look at him. He’s wearing that lopsided grin I hate to love. But it gets worse. He rakes my hair back and I almost scream from the pleasure, from the sense of connection a mere stroke of his fingers in my hair invokes.
“Don’t be mad.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“I know when you’re mad…I know when you’re trying to be mad and failing. I know when you try to hide that you’re mad. I know every single one of your countless emotions.”
This is not going to end well for me. Every word he speaks makes me wish for things I can’t have. Not with him.
All of a sudden he grabs me and pulls me closer, my back to his chest. I don’t move a hair or utter a word. For a second I contemplate asking him what’s gotten into him but change my mind just as swiftly. I don’t want to discourage whatever has gotten into him. I whole-heartedly approve of whatever it is that’s gotten into him.
“She works in tech and lives in Silicon Valley,” he murmurs in my ear. I shiver at the feel of his breath on my skin, at the feel of him wrapped around me. “At least, she did. The flying back and forth got to be too much and we decided to take a break. She met Scott a month later and they eloped shortly after that.”
“Sounds rash.”
“When you know you know.”
“That’s ridiculous. How could you possibly know if someone is right for you in such a short amount of time?”
“Some of us know right away.” The determination in his voice causes me to look over my shoulder. The gaze that meets mine is committed, unwavering. For a minute I think he might kiss me, that he might actually do it this time.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs with a rasp that says given half the chance he would fuck me dead. And I am this close to begging him to do just that.
“Like what? I barely looked at you.”
“Like you want me to kiss you.” Before I can start to argue, he holds me closer, his lips on my ear, his nose in my hair. “When I kiss you, it won’t stop there…and that’s not happening here.” Grabbing my hips possessively, he pulls them back into his groin, my ass crashing into his raging hard-on, while I suck in a shocked gasp.
“I should probably go back to my room.” He shakes his head.
“Ethan,” I say, desperation ringing loudly in my voice. He snuggles closer, his nose in my hair, the steady beat of his gorgeous heart against my back. Tucked into the safe harbor of his body, I breathe out a sigh of relief and breathe in a sigh of contentment. I’m content for the first time in forever.
“Go to sleep, Amber.” Seconds later, a sense of peace steals all my apprehension away. I sleep like a rock through the night. No battery operated book boyfriends required.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning I wake to an empty bed. By the looks of the clothes on the floor, Mr. Perfect went for a run. I get ready and head downstairs only to catch him on his way up to get me. I try my best to not look awkward considering the turn of events last night while he looks…blank. Judging from his expression, it never happened––except it did.
His eyes do the slow crawl from my vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt, to my black jeans, down to the black Gazelles. His eyes settle back on the Stones t-shirt.
