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He places me in the passenger seat and now looks back at me.
"You’re going to be okay." That is all he says.
******
My sprained ankle has been wrapped in a white bandage, and I’m sitting on the bar stool, not looking at Ethan at all. I don’t know what to say or do. On the one hand, I feel selfish for being so self-centered, and on the other hand, my heart swells for him. Which feeling should I give preference to? Which one should I give in to?
"Liv?" His voice pulls me out of my mental conundrums, and I look at him, listening to what he is saying.
"You want something to eat? You haven't eaten since morning," he says, and someone does a somersault in my stomach.
"Oh- Umm, I had a croissant on my way to the park. I have lost my appetite after the hospital visit. Thanks for the offer, though." I say without meeting his eyes.
"Alright. Are you okay?" he asks, and he walks towards me until he is standing right above me. His presence overwhelms every inch of my soul.
I look at him, a bit jostled by his proximity.
"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be? It's just that…-" I hesitate, not sure if I should say it or not.
"What's the matter?" he asks, slight concern lining his words.
My gut churns from not knowing where this conversation is going to lead.
"It's just that you never asked me why I left so early in the morning without letting you know. And about the painting…you didn't tell me why you wanted it so badly. Won't your team suffer now?" I ask, and then purse my lips. I scan his face to see any kind of expression relaying his surprise, but none arrives. His face remains as stoic as it could possibly get.
"I’m not your bodyguard. You’re not obliged to let me know before leaving. And as for the painting, Coach said he'd figure something out. Financial peril always outweighs publicity." he says matter-of-factly. How can he word that so perfectly, totally turning my guilt away from me?
"Then why come to look for me? Why care for me?" I wonder in frustration, not thinking anymore now.
He sighs, and this time he is the one who looks away. I want to get away from all this. I can’t breathe with all this chaos wreaking havoc in my mind.
I try to stand up, but it isn't very reasonable of me to think that I could do so. I stumble forward, but before I fall face forward on the marble floor, Ethan's arms catch me. He guides me back to the stool and sits on the floor with my foot on his lap and all I can do is stare at the guy.
"Why are you so clumsy?" he asks, obviously annoyed, as he reaches down to check my ankle.
"Why do you care?" I say loudly, which gains his attention.
"Because you make me!" he screams and then, out of the blue, kisses me. Shit. What? What is happening?
He kisses me hard, and I know that this kiss is the answer to my question, which he can’t answer with mere words. He pulls back and looks at me, my head still in his hands. My cheeks turn hot, and my eyes go wide with the suddenness of it all. I need Ethan. In spite of my shivering body, I pull him back into a deeper kiss, gliding my tongue all over his hot, groaning lips. There is something different in the way our lips and tongues move. It’s not just sexual or intimate; it’s something more like we need each other. As if we can express unsaid words only through touch.
"Your ankle." he says, pulling away from me, his brows furrowed with worry.
"It doesn’t matter. I want you." I tell him, looking deep into his eyes and placing my hands on his broad chest which is heaving with unhidden desire.
He nods and picks me up, kissing me violently all the while making sure my ankle doesn’t bump anything. He is such a sweetheart. He lays me on the bed and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I smile at him, and he just watches me closely in return.
"You sure you want this? You're hurt."
"I'll be okay. And yes, I want you terribly." I say, and we both laugh before he helps me undress.
He then rips off his clothes until we are both naked. Before he touches me, we both stare at each other, naked and gleaming.
"You're beautiful, Liv." I blush and pull him to me, our chests touching and desperate breaths mixing.
He kisses every inch of my body, including my sprained ankle, as I writhe under his irresistible lips, moaning his name, shameless and loud. He drives me crazy.
He puts on the condom, and I trace all the curves of his abs. He then places my ankle in one of his hands, making sure it doesn’t get hurt, and then slowly goes down on me.
