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“You two seemed chatty,” Ethan said.
“Chatty?” I teased. “Crossland definitely loves to talk.”
Ethan chuckled. “Do I need to worry?”
I tilted my head, surveying him. There wasn’t a trace of tension in his features, only playful teasing that made my breath catch.
“Getting protective of me, Mr. Berkley?”
“I think I’ve already proven that,” he said.
He had proven that. Proven that he was fiercely protective over anything he loved.
But he didn’t love me…he couldn’t. It was way too soon. We’d only just crossed that line between us…
“But,” he said, spinning us to the music, his hand sliding low on my back. I couldn’t help but arch into his touch, like a cat begging for more attention. My body felt starved for him. “I’m getting better,” he said. “You should be proud of me.”
“I am,” I said without hesitation, but his shoulders dropped.
“I meant about what I’m about to do.”
“What are you about to do?”
“I’m going to not insist you leave with me right now, board my plane, and come with me to New York.”
I tilted my head. “I thought that wasn’t until tomorrow morning?”
“I just got a call,” he said. “My meeting was pushed up. I have to leave within the hour.”
“So that means later can’t happen,” I said, understanding. My heart dropped into my stomach, which was really a silly thing. I shouldn’t be disappointed.
Ethan pulled me closer until his cheek was against mine and his lips were at the shell of my ear. “The first time I make you come on my cock will not be rushed because I have to take off.”
Warmth ghosted over my skin, deepening when it hit my core.
“I need hours, days, nights,” he pulled away enough to meet my gaze. “Do you understand? I want more than something quick because I have to leave.”
“What if I want both?” I teased, loving the way his pupils dilated.
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but a smile shaped his lips. “Hours, Alex,” he said. “You deserve that.”
I pursed my lips, but nodded. “I suppose I’ll settle for a good night kiss,” I said, my heart racing in my chest. “Take me home?”
“I can do that,” he said, and guided us off the dance floor, offering a quick wave to his friends.
We were almost at the double doors before a reporter and his cameraman stopped us. “Ms. Kinder,” the reporter called, shocking the hell out of me as he stood directly in our path. “A few questions, please?”
Out of all the times the paparazzi had taken shots of Ethan and me during our meetings, they’d never once called out to me. I was totally out of my element and looked up at Ethan in a panic.
“Up to you,” he whispered.
“Um, sure?” I answered, but it sounded like a question.
“Great,” the reporter said. “Les with SocialiteNews.com here, we’d love to know who you’re wearing tonight?”
Relief fluttered through my tight lungs. “Dolce,” I said, smoothing my hands down the immaculate gown Ethan had sent for me.
“Stunning,” he said, nodding. “And are you here with Mr. Berkley in a life-coach capacity or is there something more happening here?” he waggled his eyebrows, and there wasn’t anything malicious in his eyes, just pure thirsty curiosity.
Ethan shifted his weight, his lips poised with an answer, but I hurried to speak.
“As the media has countlessly reported on,” I said with a smooth voice. “I’m here as Mr. Berkley’s life coach.”
Ethan gave me a supportive, approving nod.
I wasn’t lying. I’d come to this event to shadow Ethan, to learn more about his anger triggers, as I had with every meeting we’d had since we started working together. The media didn’t know there was more to it than that. Plus, the more the media showcased how well Ethan was doing, the better for him.
And he was doing really well.
“How is that going, if you don’t mind me asking?” the reporter asked.
“Mr. Berkley is more than what a few thirty-second clips on social media show you,” I answered effortlessly. “It’s in my professional opinion that the media is painting him in an undeserving light. And I hope we can prove that to you as we move forward.”
“Love that,” the reporter said, glancing from Ethan to me and back again. “And this professional opinion of yours, Ms. Kinder,” he continued, and for some reason, my stomach tied itself into a knot. “Did your aspirations to become a renowned life coach with a focus on anger management stem from your previous publicly toxic relationship with none other than Jarred Meer, UC’s then star football player and current NFL running back?”
Shock, shame, and a heaping dose of panic clawed up my throat, stealing the breath from my lungs and practically suffocating me at the sound of my ex’s name.
“And that’s our time,” Ethan said firmly, interlacing our fingers and tugging me around the reporters and out of the building.
