by Nikki Ash
Andrew pushes past Ethan to comfort his… wife—I have no idea if they’re married or not—and Ethan growls. “This is completely fucked.” He grabs the back of the empty chair and flings it across the patio like it weighs nothing.
“Enough!” His dad shouts. “E-nough!”
He stalks over to Ethan and gets in his face. “You don’t have to agree with me taking her back, but you will respect my choice, and you will respect your mom.”
“She’s not my fucking mom. She’s nobody.”
Raquel chokes out a sob, and I stand to comfort her, but when I do, my head goes fuzzy and I sway slightly. I trip over the leg of the chair and almost fall. But Ethan must’ve seen me, because he’s over to me, his hands gripping my waist, before I hit the ground.
“You okay?” he asks, his tone full of concern.
“Yeah,” I say, closing my eyes in an attempt to stop the world around me from spinning. The dizziness dissipates, but in its place comes a pounding migraine. “I must’ve been in the sun too long.”
Opening my eyes, I meet Ethan’s worried face. “I’m going to go lie down for a little while.”
He assesses my features for several seconds before he nods. “I’ll be up to check on you in a little bit.”
I want to ask why now. He hasn’t checked on me all week. But I don’t want to add to the tension in the air, so instead I nod.
“It was really nice to meet you,” I say to Ethan’s mom, who smiles a watery smile.
I glance over at his dad, praying my migraine doesn’t worsen before I can make it up to my room. “I’m sorry Ethan didn’t tell you we would be here. As soon as he tells me if it’s okay—”
“Nonsense,” Andrew says, cutting me off. “My son explained what’s going on and you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you need. I never liked that piece of shit Logan.”
My brain feels as though it’s being banged with a two by four, and I worry I’m going to pass out, so I quickly thank him and then make my exit, leaving Ethan and his parents to talk.
I barely make it up the stairs and into my room before my body gives out and I fall into my bed. I’m going to need to ask Ethan to get my migraine medication is the last thing I think before my eyes close and I fall into a fitful sleep.
I open my eyes and glance around, unsure how long I’ve been asleep. I lie still for a few seconds, waiting for the pounding to return, and sigh in relief when it doesn’t.
“Your head better?” a voice asks, causing me to jump. I glance over and see Ethan sitting in the reading chair with his laptop balancing on his leg.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting up against the headboard. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was concerned.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”
He clears his throat. “Okay, fine. I’m hiding out from my parents.” He lifts a single shoulder, and I crack up laughing. The idea of big bad Ethan Romero hiding from his parents is comical. “I knew they wouldn’t come in here and risk interrupting your nap.”
Figuring I should take advantage of having him momentarily cornered, I ask, “Care to explain why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”
He rubs his hand over his scruffy face, reminding me what it felt like when his face was rubbing all over my breasts. What I wouldn’t give to have his face rubbing on other parts of my body…
“I’ve been busy.” He closes his laptop and stands. “Speaking of which, I need to head to the hotel.”
“Hotel?” I ask, curious. I know he owns The Warehouse, but I didn’t know he owns a hotel as well. Or maybe he’s going to meet someone. A fiery sense of jealousy zaps through me even though I have no right to be. Ethan is nothing to me. He’s just a man who saved me from a horrible man who killed my brother and was trying to sell me to make money off me.
“My dad and I own a couple different hotels and casinos. Since he’s been busy playing house, I’ve been running things for him.” Now, him mentioning before that his dad stays in a hotel makes sense—he owns the hotel and…
Wait… “Casinos?” This catches my attention. An item on my list is to learn how to play cards and what better way to learn than at a casino!
“Yeah.”
“How many do you guys have?” I’ve always wanted to go to a casino like in the movies. Dress up in a sexy little black dress and a pair of heels and sip on an expensive drink while playing Blackjack at the table.
“We have one in Atlantic City, a couple in Vegas, one in Tennessee, one in New York, and one in Miami.”
“Cool.” I’ve only traveled once to Arizona for a mission trip, but aside from that, I’ve never been anywhere else. Meanwhile, they own hotels all over.
“I need to get going,” he says. “Rosco will be here looking out for you. Apparently my parents will be here as well.” The way he says the word parents breaks my heart. It’s clear Ethan is upset about his mom being back, which means he cares. Because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t bother him the way it is.
“I know you’re upset about your mom being back, but—”
“Not going there,” he barks, stepping toward the door.
He swings it open, at the same time there’s a knock on the door. “Hey, boss,” Rosco says, stepping forward, but still staying in the hallway. “There’s an issue at RH, ” he says, his eyes flitting back and forth between Ethan and me.
“What’s RH?” I ask nosily.
“The hotel,” Ethan explains. “Romero Hotels.” He turns back to Rosco. “I’m heading there now.”
“Can I go?” I blurt out. Ethan and Rosco look at me. “I’ve, uh, I’ve always wanted to see a casino.”
“No,” Ethan states. “You’re safer here.”
“We can bring Rosco,” I argue. I haven’t left this house in over a week, and I’m itching to get out. “Please,” I plead, trying to bat my eyelashes like I’ve seen women do to get their way.
I know it works when Ethan’s shoulders slump slightly. “Fine. I’m leaving in five minutes. If you’re not dressed and downstairs, I’m leaving without you.”
“Yes!” I fist pump in the air before taking off to my closet to get dressed. I don’t own a little black dress or heels, so I just throw on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a maroon off-the-shoulder sweater I love but only wore once because my mom said showing my shoulder gave off the wrong vibes. I pair my outfit with fluffy black UGGs Blaire bought for me last year for Christmas.
After quickly putting on deodorant and brushing my teeth and hair, I run downstairs, excited to not only get out of the house but possibly be able to check another item off my list.
Rosco and Ethan are waiting at the door, both dressed in expensive-looking suits. “Ready?” Ethan asks, dragging his eyes down my body. I know the reason he’s been hiding from me is because of what happened between us, but the question is, is he hiding because he regrets it or because he wants more? Based on the way his gaze is burning, I would say the latter, and that has me wanting to push him for more. I promised Stephen I would live my life, and I’m going to do just that.
“Ready.”
Since Rosco is driving his own vehicle to the hotel, it’s just Ethan and me in his sexy sports car. Afraid Ethan will change his mind and make me go back to his dad’s place, I stay quiet during the fifteen-minute drive to the hotel. He doesn’t speak the entire time, but I occasionally catch his gaze darting over to me.
When we arrive, I get a look at the outside of the hotel. It’s slick and modern and screams wealth and opulence. Ethan pulls up and the valet runs out to park his car.
Taking my hand in his, he guides me through the front lobby and down a narrow hallway. When we enter a large room filled with security footage being displayed, Ethan demands everyone leave. They all do as he says, and then he shuts and locks the door.
“Does everyone jump when you speak?” I ask in disbelief at how quickly the room cleared out.
“If they want to keep their jobs, they do,
” he says, shocking me by grabbing me by my hips and pulling me into his lap in an office chair.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer, situating myself, but making no move to leave the comfort of his lap.
“Showing you something.” He clicks his mouse and the screen zooms in on a man in a tux dealing cards. He clicks again and the camera focuses on a man sitting on the other side of the table holding playing cards in his hand.
“Blackjack?” I guess when I see the guy show his cards, which equal twenty-one.
“Yeah.” His arm encircles my waist and his hand settles on the front of my belly. He holds me tight as he leans over, pointing to the monitor. “This guy has been in several times over the last couple weeks. Always sitting at the same dealer’s table.” He clicks and the screen zooms back out. “He’s taken the house for over sixty grand.”
“Wow.” That’s a lot of money.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Ethan says, launching into some explanation about the house edge and the odds. I don’t understand half of what he says, but it’s obvious he’s educated in everything casino-related. I try to keep up with everything, but it’s hard to focus with his fingers massaging into my skin and setting my body on fire. His hand descends and lands on my thigh, squeezing it and making me squirm in my seat.
A lot of the jargon goes over my head, but I catch the bulk of what he’s saying. “So, he’s not only counting cards, but you think he’s working with the dealer?”
“Yeah. The dealer should’ve notified the manager when he won that much in such a short time, but he hasn’t. So, now we’re going to catch them.”
We watch the table for several minutes, and Ethan walks me through the game. I’m entranced by what I see on the screen. The way the dealer deals so smoothly and quickly. When he points out the guy is counting cards, I don’t get it, until he explains it step by step as the man wins three times in a row. Ethan pulls out his phone, explaining he’s requesting a shift change. When another dealer walks over unexpectedly, the current dealer looks confused but changes places. The man who’s been counting cards gets up and, with a small nod to the dealer that you’d miss if the screen wasn’t zoomed in on his face, walks away.
“Oh my God! Did you see that?” I gasp.
“Yep.” Ethan puts his phone to his ear and taps away on his computer. “Got him,” he says to whoever is on the other end. “Sent the file over. Bring them both in and handle it.”
“What are you going to do to them?”
Ethan turns me around so I’m straddling his lap. I try to ignore the thick bulge in his pants that’s pushing against my center, but it’s hard. “The manager is going to make sure neither of them ever step foot in this hotel again.”
“Are you going to kill them?” I ask, memories of finding my brother lying in a pool of his own blood hitting me like a bucket of ice.
Ethan’s hands grip my hips and he pulls me closer to him. “I told you before I’m not in the business of killing people. While your brother had to be dealt with, what Logan did to him… to you… never should’ve happened. When I find him, he will pay.”
Without thought, my arms snake around Ethan’s neck. He stiffens, but I ignore him. “Thank you,” I say, my eyes locking with his. “If it weren’t for you…” I swallow thickly, not wanting to even imagine where I would be right now had Ethan not swooped in and saved me.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his eyes leaving mine and landing on my lips. The air is suddenly thick, and even though I’m not an expert on anything sex-related, I’m almost positive the tension I’m feeling in the room is sexual and mutual.
I lick my dry lips, then speak—immediately realizing my brain must not work when I’m turned on. “I tried to give myself an orgasm like you gave me, but I couldn’t do it. It kept feeling like I was almost there, but then it wouldn’t happen.”
Ethan’s eyes widen then turn into thin slits.
I open my mouth, preparing to take back my word vomit, when Ethan’s mouth crashes against mine. Hard. His tongue delves between my parted lips, seeking my own. I waste no time, grinding against his pelvis. But it feels different this time, and I realize it’s because I’m wearing jeans. They’re playing as a horrible barrier between me and the fireworks.
As if he can read my mind, Ethan lifts me off his lap and sets me onto the table in front of him. He pulls my boots off and drops them to the floor. I lean back and watch as he unbuttons my jeans and tugs them down my thighs. When he stops and stares at me—specifically my panty-covered center—I consider closing my legs, but instead do something the old me would frown upon, but the new me would fist pump over: I spread my thighs open wider to give him a better view.
As if what I’ve done has granted him the permission he was seeking, he pulls my panties down my legs, leaving me open and bare to him. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find it in me to be. Nervous? Yes. Excited? For sure. But embarrassed? Not at all. And I think it’s because the man in front of me is Ethan, and even though I don’t know him well, I’m comfortable around him. Sure, he’s broody and growly and dangerous, and I should probably be scared of him. But all I feel is relaxed and turned on and content.
When his hands land on the insides of my thighs and he spreads them wider, I close my eyes, but he’s not having it.
“Open your eyes,” he orders, and I pop them open. “I want you to watch as I make you come.”
Oh. My. God.
With my voice caught in my throat, I nod quickly.
“The key to getting yourself off is to let go of everything else around you,” Ethan says as he spreads my folds.
“You can’t overthink it,” he explains. His finger slowly enters me, and he smirks when he feels how wet I am. “Fuck, you’re drenched.” He adds another finger and pushes them in and out of me a few times. It feels so good. My mind goes to the conversation with my mom when I was younger and asked her about sex. She told me it wasn’t about pleasure, but about creating a new life… about—
“Angel,” Ethan says, shaking me from my thoughts. “Stay with me. Focus on nothing but what I’m doing to you. It’s only you and me…”
He pulls his soaked fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth. He sticks them between his lips and sucks, and I almost freaking lose it. “Want a taste?” he offers.
Without thought, I find myself nodding. He chuckles softly then leans over and presses his fingers to my lips. I open, and he inserts them into my mouth. They taste tangy, and I must make a face indicating that because he laughs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought it would be sweet. All my romance books always say that.”
“So fucking innocent,” he murmurs, stepping closer and kissing me. “It tastes perfect.”
He pulls back, and I instantly miss his mouth on mine, but before I can complain and beg him to kiss me some more, I’m distracted by his finger, which is rubbing against my clit.
“Feel that?” he asks. “Your clit is swollen and sensitive.”
“Yes,” I breathe. I feel it from my head all the way to the tips of my toes. How such a small part of my body can elicit such pleasure astounds me, but I’m not about to question it.
Ethan continues to massage my clit with his pointer and middle finger. Every now and then he stops and dips them into my center to gather more of my juices, using it to create friction against my clit. I watch in awe and fascination as he works me over, bringing me higher and higher. I refuse to think about anything but what he’s doing to me. I can feel the impending orgasm drawing near, and then with a flick of his fingers, I detonate. My eyes close of their own accord, and those infamous fireworks I’ve been longing to see, appear—bright and colorful. My entire body shakes as I let myself go and enjoy my orgasm.
When I finally come down, I open my eyes and find Ethan staring at me. My cheeks and neck heat, now that my brain is no longer clouded by my orgasm, and Ethan grins.
“I could watch you come like tha
t every damn day.”
Before I can respond—not that I have any clue what to say to that—he tells me he’ll be right back. He disappears through a door in the corner and a minute later returns with a wet paper towel. Opening my legs, he swipes up my center. My heart speeds up at the sweet, intimate gesture.
After tossing the paper towel into the waste basket, he grabs my panties and jeans and puts them back on me. I consider telling him I can get dressed myself, but I’m too fascinated watching him to say a word.
After slipping my boots back on my feet, he takes my hand in his and tugs me up until our faces are only inches apart. “Finding your release is part physical and part mental. The next time you try it yourself, let it all go. Like you just did.”
“I think I’ll just leave it to you.” I shrug a shoulder. “You’re obviously the expert.”
Ethan throws his head back with a laugh and then helps me off the table. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To play some Blackjack.”
When I frown, he stops walking. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to learn.” His words momentarily distract me. I never told him I wanted to learn to play Blackjack. I said I wanted to see a casino, but I never actually mentioned wanting to learn how to play.
Oh no! Has he seen my list? When would he have even seen it?
And then I remember my other list… It was in my underwear drawer… and he grabbed my underwear.
I don’t know why, after everything we’ve done, the thought of him seeing my list feels too intimate, but it does. It feels as though he’s cracked open my ribcage and grabbed ahold of my heart.
“Have you seen my list?” I blurt out.
He stills. “What list?” he asks, answering my question with one of his own. Either he’s seen it and he’s playing dumb, or he genuinely doesn’t know what I’m talking about. If I push this and he doesn’t know, I’ll have to explain it.
“Never mind. I’d like to play Blackjack, but I don’t think I’m dressed for it.” I flit my gaze from my casual clothes to his suit. Next to Ethan, I always look frumpy. Even when he’s dressed down, he still looks like perfection.
