“Morning, sunshine,” I say.“You all set?”
He drags a hand down his face; the sound of his stubble against his palm is oddly erotic.“Set for what?”
Does he not see the wetsuit I’m wearing or the one I’m holding?What about the two surfboards waiting for us at the bottom of his staircase?“Our surfing lesson.”
“I’m not going surfing.”
“Yes, you are.You promised.And I take promises very seriously.”
He blanches.“The sun’s not even up yet.”
Yetbeing the key word.
“It will be by the time you get this on.”I shove the wetsuit against his chest and have to bite my lip to keep from bursting into laughter at his look of pure indignation when he holds the thing up to himself.The other day, I told Boone down at the Windbreaker Surf Shop to give me the tallest one he had available for rent.I am so,sohappy to be alive this beautiful morning.
“You’re joking, right?”Ethan scoffs.“This looks like it wouldn’t even fit a toddler.”
Exaggerate much?“It’ll fit.I promise.”To my delight, he turns and makes his way toward the powder room with only a few muttered grumbles.
Lucky for him, I know exactly what will help with that: coffee.
I make two mugs with his Keurig, laughing to myself at the variety of curses coming from the powder room.
The door swings open, and my neighbor’s scowl is downright murderous.
Remember when I said Ethan could pull off a spandex superhero suit?
Boy, was I right.Hellooo.
“It’s too fucking tight.”He adjusts himself on his way over to the elixir of life I made just for him.
Wrong.So, so wrong.“It’s just right.”I should probably stop staring, but the hangover is making my brain sluggish, and my eyes are way too busy taking him in.Those thighs—they’re so thick and strong.He’s like a tree.A big, sexy, growly tree.
“I’m not leaving the house in this,” he mutters over the rim of his mug, his eyes sinking closed as he inhales deeply before taking a drink.
“You absolutely are.”The world can be a dark and depressing place sometimes, and Ethan in a wetsuit makes it all better.“Drink up and let’s go.”
“You said the same thing last night, and look how that turned out.”
He wants to talk about last night, huh?I figured he’d want to avoid the topic like a building violation.“From where I was standing, last night turned out pretty damn good.”
Just like last night, his gaze drops to my lips before returning to my eyes.What I would give to feel that stiff stubble and that angry growl rumbling against my mouth this morning.
“Chloe, that… it can’t happen again,” he says, like his word is law and I have no say either way.
I reply, “Okay,” but what I mean is “Yeah, okay” in the most sarcastic tone ever.
Sparks like this don’t come around every day.Surely, he’s not stubborn enough to deny that there’s something more between us.
Knowing better than to push this early in the morning, though, I swallow my desire with another sip of meh coffee, then dump the rest down the sink.“Let’s go.Wouldn’t want to keep the waves waiting.”
Ethan takes another gulp before setting his cup beside mine.He insists on locking up, and then glances down at his wetsuit like he’s trying to figure out where the heck to put his key.
And he wonders why I never lock my door.
“Just put it under here.”I kick his sad, brown doormat that doesn’t even have the word “WELCOME” printed on it.Maybe I should give him back the yellow one he bought me.It would certainly brighten up the place.
“That’s the first spot a burglar would look,” he says.
