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“This isn’t boning, or humping, or fucking. This is me making love to you.” His thumbs brush my temples.
All I can do is nod and swallow the words stuck in my throat. His eyes never leave mine once as he begins rocking into me, finding the right pace and angle to drive me wild with pleasure. He gives me his body selflessly. I come twice before he does and as I do, he says, “I love you,” over and over again. And as he comes, he grinds out, “I love you,” over and over again.
I love you too, my mind screams while the rest of me stays silent.
Shortly after, we manage to crawl to the mattress, which is now living on the floor since I sold my bed.
“You asked me what I want,” he murmurs, his fingers lazily brushing through my hair. Sprawled out on top of him, the vibration of his deep voice tickles my cheek. “I want you to forgive me––but most of all, I want you to think I’m some kind of awesome.”
My heart sinks, the groovy feeling I was marinating in after the two epic Os wiped away. Lifting my head off his chest, I look into his soft brown eyes and tell him the truth. Because no matter how painful, it’s always valid.
“I thought you were awesome from the very beginning. I thought you were so awesome I didn’t think you could be real…But you made me believe in you, and in return you made a fool out of me.”
Worse yet, he made me doubt myself again.
“That was not my intention and you know that.”
Knowing him well enough, I sense an imminent argument and sit up. “You’ve been pulling puppet strings all along, Ethan.” I locate my underwear at the foot of the bed, and slip it on. He gets up from the mattress and snatches his boxers off the floor. I can’t seem to stop myself from staring at his body. It’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. “I’m no one’s puppet.”
“I’m telling you that you mean everything to me.” He’s mad, his voice forceful, which raises my hackles. What’s he got to be mad about? Hands on his lean hips, determined expression, the lawyer is back. He looks into my eyes as if he could will me to believe everything he says.
“Except your career.” It was a cheap shot but it went straight to the heart of the matter. He looks hurt and for a minute I regret it. I don’t want to hurt him. Hurting him would be equivalent to hurting myself. “Don’t get me wrong––I understand. Really, I do. Success requires sacrifice, right? Art of War and all that b.s. You were right. I want success as much as you do.”
“Tell me what to do––what to say.” His expression morphs, reflecting the desperation in his voice. “I’ll do it.” His eyes are downcast, his attention focused on putting on his track pants.
“I love you, Ethan.” Wide, bewildered eyes slam into mine. I can see more than a small glimmer of hope in them. “And because I love you I would never ask you to give up your dreams for me. I would never ask you to give up anything for me.”
As soon as the words hit home, his face falls, hope extinguished in one fell swoop. This isn’t some romance novel. This is real life. Shit does not work itself out. It’s an uphill climb for most of us requiring effort, elbow grease, and sacrifice…success requires sacrifice.
His mouth tightens. Whatever words are on the tip of his tongue, he holds onto them. He pulls on his t-shirt and walks out the door. And I don’t stop him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Who am I gonna tell all my problems to?” Justin’s been squatting on a mountain of my books since he walked in an hour ago.
“You own a phone,” I say while I tape another cardboard box shut. I look up to find sad eyes trained on me. “You’re sitting on my books, Dimples.”
He was supposed to be helping me pack. What he’s actually been doing is slowing the process down by half.
“Dimples, are you sabotaging me?”
“Who me? I would never do that,” he says, batting his eyelashes like the goofball that he is. The worst acting job I’ve ever witnessed. “But I might be attempting to get in your way just a bit.” He raises one ass cheek and motions for me to grab them.
With a smiling smirk I say, “What’s the plan?”
“I’m coming to Cali to train for a few weeks,” he replies in a dejected tone.
“See, no need to get mopey.”
Twenty minutes later, Justin leaves after a huge hug and a bunch of promises that I’ll call at least every other day. Shortly afterward my cell phone chimes.
Beauty Queen: Is Audrey with you?
