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He inched closer, his lips a breath away from mine. “Tell me no,” he whispered. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I held his gaze, heat pooling between my thighs.
“I can’t,” I whispered back. “I don’t lie. I can’t lie to you. Ethan, I want you. But we shouldn’t.”
He closed the distance between us, timidly at first.
The first brush of his mouth against mine had me forgetting every reason I had for him not to touch me.
I fisted his jacket, drawing him closer so I could kiss him harder.
He groaned in response, shifting to cup my face in his hands, tipping my head back so he could kiss me at a deeper angle—
“Yo,” Maddox’s voice drew out the word, and we instantly broke apart. “I’m sorry,” he said, clenching his eyes shut as he held up a hand. “I didn’t see anything. Except maybe your tongue in her mouth. It’s dark out here. Anyway,” he continued, backing up with his eyes still closed. “Jepson left. Security made him. And I just wanted to say thanks, Ethan,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just be going.”
He disappeared back into the ballroom, and Ethan and I just stared at each other, my chest heaving from the breath he’d stolen with his kiss.
The tension crackled between us, sharpening to the point of pain.
“I should…” Ethan’s eyes trailed the length of my body as his words trailed off.
“Go,” I finished for him. “You should go back to your friends. Enjoy the rest of your party.”
He nodded, almost reluctantly, like he wished he could stay tucked away in this alcove with me all night.
We were on the same page in that regard.
But we shouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
“Will you stay with me?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, and breathed out a sigh as I looped my arm in his. “You think I’d leave behind all this five-star food?” I asked once we were back in the ballroom.
He laughed, the sound open and vulnerable and real. “The food,” he said. “Of course, that’s why you’d want to stay.” He smiled down at me as I reached for one of the appetizers, popping it into my mouth for good measure.
“Would there be any other reason?” I teased.
“None that I can think of,” he said, dipping down. “After all, our session is over, isn’t it?”
“Mmhmm,” I said, unable to speak coherently while his lips nearly brushed the shell of my ear. “Definitely over.”
“Let’s feed you then,” he said, winking at me before he filled a glass plate with everything I’d been eying.
CHAPTER 7
Ethan
“Has the commissioner backed off yet?” Crossland asked from his seat directly across from Asher at the poker table.
We were in Nepal, having just completed the most intense whitewater kayaking I’d ever experienced only a mere four hours ago. It had taken us all that long to recuperate, shower, and make it back to the table in time for our monthly game.
“Somewhat,” I said, folding my cards. “It’s not just him, it’s the other owners, too.” Owning an MLB team wasn’t like other franchise sports—if enough of the other league owners complained to the commissioner, they could come together to veto me out. Just like if enough of them stood with me and supported me, they could make the commissioner’s threats obsolete.
“How many are complaining?” Asher asked, dealing the flop for the three players still in the hand—Wes, Gareth, and Doyle.
“Not enough to give me the axe,” I answered. And thank fuck for that. It wasn’t like I was in the MLB owner club for the money—I had a shit-ton of other endeavors for that, which now included a chain of hotels I’d recently purchased that would only continue to grow my wealth.
The Hurricanes weren’t about money for me. What started off as a revenge purchase had soon become my place of pure joy and freedom, and I was on the verge of losing it because I couldn’t keep my anger in check.
Yet.
For the first time in years, I actually felt hope swelling in my chest. With Alexandra’s help, I had a shot at finally taking control of my life, and I hadn’t felt that kind of hope since before my ex had broken my heart.
“The commissioner has noticed my efforts,” I continued after the guys had thrown in their bets, and Asher dealt the turn. “He’s not an asshole. He texted me to say the reports he’s received from Alexandra’s company have been positive.”
Doyle laughed, folding his cards after Gareth placed a massive bet in front of him. “Who gives a shit about the commissioner?” he grumbled. “Have you made the dumb broad fall for you yet?”
Breathe. In for four seconds, hold for four, then out for four. Alexandra’s voice filtered into my mind, which threatened to turn red at the vile shit that came out of Doyle’s mouth with every other word.
