She nervously held the scissors. “I know I already said this, but are you sure?” She’d asked him the question at least twice as they were moving the table.
He looked at her patiently. “Do your worst, Natalie. You’ll be fine.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, stopped when his gaze honed in on the action, and his expression tightened. Then went all casual again, like he was putting on another persona.
As much as she was glad he’d done it, for her peace of mind, if nothing else, it bothered her that he felt he had to around her. Then again, they’d only known each other for about thirty-six hours now, even if it felt like they’d been dancing around each other for a lifetime.
It’d be easier if she trimmed the back first, she decided. She swung around behind him, draped a towel over his shoulders to catch the shorn strands. Positioned his head just right, and then started snipping.
She didn’t go too short, instead taking an inch or so off, halfway between his hairline and his collar. His hair was almost curly as it fell, soft as silk. She wanted to run her fingers through it rather than cutting it off.
By the time she made it around to face him, her heart was beating in triple time, and her face felt flushed. At least with the lighting from the funky seventies fixtures illuminating the kitchen Ethan wouldn’t be able to tell.
She trimmed the sides and front and had to admit she hadn’t bungled it too badly. But the fact she was still standing in front of him, his face pretty much right at boob level, did nothing to calm down her revving heart.
And when she proclaimed herself done and he looked up at her, his gaze tight and hot, it took everything inside her not to lean down and kiss him again.
Ethan wasn’t quite sure how he had the willpower to sit there, unflinching, as she ran her hands through his hair, as her body brushed his ever-so-lightly, as her scent drifted over him like a summer’s breeze. But sit he did. His knuckles were white where he gripped the top of the dining room chair, but he maintained. Until she announced she was done and he glanced up and saw her face.
She looked just like she had this morning when he’d kissed her, soft and sensuous and everything a man could ever want. He tightened his grip on the chair, willing himself to stay still, to not push this if she didn’t want it.
And then her fingers were in his hair again, this time stroking, touching in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with a haircut and everything to do with them, with what he wanted more than he wanted to see the sun rise tomorrow.
He waited, because he’d become a patient man over the last few years, waited as her fingers scored his scalp lightly, sending arcs of sensation through his entire body. But he couldn’t stop the moan that left his lips, or the hungry sound that escaped him when her nipples peaked in response.
He watched her eyes, waited when she licked her lips, then held still as her mouth descended, slowly, so slowly, before landing on his, giving him a featherlight kiss that he still felt down to his very bones.
When she straightened he spoke, and almost didn’t recognize his own voice. “Your lead, Natalie. But know this… Once I touch you I’m not going to stop until the sun comes up. So be sure you want this.”
Her lips tilted in a small, secret smile that curled through him, set a low, greedy fire kindling in his gut.
She traced his cheek with one hand, her thumb feathering over his cheekbone. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she replied.
He exploded out of the chair and spun around it, then lifted her at the waist in a fireman’s carry, jolting a startled giggle out of her that set him aflame even more.
Settling her on the queen-sized bed, he kicked the bedroom door shut and focused on her, only her.
She drew in a breath, drawing his attention to her breasts, and she smiled that secret smile again before she whipped the t-shirt over her head and unclipped her bra, seemingly in one motion that left him breathless.
He stared at the perfection of her, sitting on the fluffy comforter, bare to the waist, shorts covering so very little of her. He stepped forward, stood in the vee of her thighs, and dropped to his knees. Gently grasped her waist and then settled in to feast on her breasts.
She moaned, pressing against his mouth as she writhed.
He shifted his attention, moving south and stripping away her shorts and panties as he did. He stroked her bare feet, watching as she settled onto her elbows and just gave herself over to sensation. Knew he was the luckiest man on the damned planet.
“Get out of your clothes, Ethan.” It was an order, and one he happily obeyed.
He was fucking magnificent. Just looking at him made her mouth water, as he stripped down with that bare efficiency men seemed to employ. He had the body of an athlete, long and strong, and she couldn’t wait to feel him inside, but first, she’d play.
She surged up, catching him by surprise, like he had in the kitchen.
She licked her lips, then grasped his cock, loving the rough sound he made as she took him in her mouth, just enough to tease, enough to make her even hotter.
Long licks, little nibbles until he was shaking in front of her, but still he didn’t move. He was breathing hard, and his hands were clenched at his sides, and she suspected he wanted them in her hair, but not this time. This time she wanted, needed to show him what it was like to be cherished.
And then she was too far gone herself. She released him and stood, bringing her body against his, skin to skin for the first time.
They both drew in a breath, then Ethan stepped away and stripped the bedspread back. Then waited again.
She made a hungry sound in the back of her throat and laid on the bed, grabbed his hand and pulled him down, then whispered, “I’m all yours.”
She’d expected a frenzy, but if anything he slowed down, touching and stroking until she was on the verge of exploding. “Ethan,” she pleaded, “Now.”
He tortured her for a few moments more, then grabbed a condom from his shorts and rolled it on, before sliding into her with such perfection it brought tears to her eyes.
“Natalie?” his voice was questioning, rough.
“So good,” she sighed, and he dipped his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes as he began to thrust. She met him with each surge, her body curving against his, their hearts thundering together until she tipped over the edge, and he followed with a shout.
Chapter 11
Ethan woke with Natalie sprawled half over him, her long legs tangled with his, one arm thrown over his chest, her face tucked into his neck, and realized he’d never been happier. The wave of warmth washed over him, thawing pieces he hadn’t known were frozen. Except, of course, for his morning wood. That was alive and kicking.
He breathed in her scent, wallowed in the feel of her skin against his, and had that moment, that bright and shining moment, where he thought he’d done enough penance to wake up like this every day. With Natalie. That they could get out of this whole and slide into something good, right. Maybe that little house he’d talked about last night.
Then reality squashed that dream. Because he was still twenty-five grand in the hole, and with the Dauphin gone, he was back to chipping away at his debt one repossession at a time. And Natalie? While she and Flynn were on the outs now, she was still his only child. Still in line to be the Corporate Vice President of a multi-national company. If she chose to.
If they hadn’t been in danger, she would have never slept with him. Would have never even noticed him.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, she gave a morning hum and slid her hand down his chest, sparking everything awake and throwing all of his thoughts out the window.
“Good morning,” she said and began to kiss the tender part of his neck. Her hand found his dick, and he groaned, thrust against her. Then he regained control, rolled them so she was on her back, her eyes still hazy with sleep, her mouth soft and swollen from last night’s sexathon.
He fell for her in that moment, in th
at second. There was no basis in reality for him to hand his heart to her right then and there, but it quite simply, was. It was the most amazing feeling he’d ever had, and equally terrifying.
But he’d never let her know, never say the words, because he wouldn’t bind her to him that way. Not when his future was anything but certain.
So instead he slid his lips down her body and showed her how he felt with each lick, each nip, each slide of his tongue. And fell even harder.
Natalie stretched, rolled over, disappointed to find Ethan’s side of the bed empty.
The lacy curtains diffused the midmorning sun just enough to make the room feel cozy, warm, a place she wanted to just fall into forever.
She laid there for just a moment more, aching for the dream, for mornings where she woke up next to Ethan, sore from a long night of lovemaking. Where she cooked and baked and puttered in a garden and went to her cute little storefront to sell things she’d created with her own hands. Where someone loved her for who she truly was, not who she’d been molded into.
But that would never happen. Her life was with Arrow. It had to be.
Regardless of her father’s assholery, she’d put too much of herself into Arrow to walk away now. She had friends there, a history that was basically her whole life. Walking away from something like that would be almost impossible.
Ethan hated Arrow, and now she understood why. While this was an amazing interlude, as soon as Petra was found, he’d go back to his life, and she’d move to Maryland, see if she could resume the normal life she’d longed for just a few days ago, but now seemed such a boring and tepid dream. See if she and her father could see eye to eye, or if she’d try to change the company from the inside into something better. A company that didn’t create the kind of toxicity that had so damaged Ethan.
She rolled out of bed, slid into her shorts and tee shirt and opened the door to the living room.
Ethan sat on the screened porch, coffee in one hand, his face creased in thought.
She wanted to sit on his lap, sip from his coffee, smooth away the lines marring his handsome face. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. So instead she got her own cup and joined him on the porch.
“Good morning…again,” she said as she gave him a dirty little smile.
He laughed in response, like she’d wanted, and the shadows on his face, in her heart, fell away. It would be all right.
They settled in at the dining room table, eating the last of the eggs from the cooler. Natalie had done something to them, Ethan wasn’t sure what, but they were freaking delicious.
He washed the dishes as Natalie flipped on the television, scanned the news for any mention of them. There’d been a fire overnight on the other side of town that seemed to be pretty dramatic. But mostly it was about Alien Fest, with crowd shots of everyone in their costumes, dancing to last night’s live band.
“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried.”
“Let’s go with relief, but posture for worry,” Ethan replied. He didn’t want this little bubble in time to end, but he knew their time here was short. They’d stayed in one place too long already. Where they went next was the question of the day.
He repacked the cooler and hauled it out to the Jeep, then settled in next to her, his hip warm against hers.
“We have this place for one more night, but I’m getting itchy feet.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “My spidey sense is tingling. So where do we go from here?” She bit her bottom lip and it took everything in him to stop himself from doing the biting himself.
“What about Albuquerque? It’s right on the interstate so we can bolt quickly if need be, and has an airport, albeit a small one. Your father might be able to send a charter to pick you up.”
“Pick us up,” she said sternly, but he shook his head.
“If Flynn comes for you, go with him, Natalie. I didn’t kill Ward, and at some point Petra will surface, or they’ll find proof that she did it. One person can hide much better than two. So you go with your father, work on helping me from the inside.” He smiled, but knew it looked forced. “I’m better off on my own.”
She sat back as if he’d slapped her, and he guessed he had, at least verbally, especially after their night together. But if anything, last night had cemented his resolve in keeping her safe. And there was no place safer than with Greg Flynn and Arrow Security. No matter what an asshole the man might be.
He was trying to form words of comfort when she bolted to her feet and went to the window, pulling back the curtain just a bit from the side. “We have to go, now.”
He scooped up his backpack, pulled out his weapon and edged toward the back door as Natalie did the same.
Her expression was fierce. Fearless. Sexy as fuck.
Ethan pushed the screen door open an inch, then two, seeing nothing in the shadows of the willow but the Jeep. He nodded once, then slipped out the door, sweeping the tiny back yard from corner to corner as Natalie backed him up.
Behind him he heard someone pounding on the front door and his heartbeat ratcheted up a few more notches.
Natalie met his eyes, and her expression was solid. Steadfast. Ready to take them, whoever they were, on.
They ran to the Jeep on silent feet, Natalie angling for the driver’s door. He nodded and vectored to the other side, then slid into the seat, breathing hard, not from exhaustion but from pure adrenaline.
He handed her the keys, and then settled in to watch, to have her back.
Natalie waited when every instinct in her body told her to flee. She’d never know what had tipped her off, but her gut had never been wrong before.
The fact Ethan had heeded it, moving without hesitation, and then not arguing about her taking the wheel was a testament to how much he respected her skills. A fact she was ridiculously grateful for at this moment.
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I just got really nervous, really fast.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving the back of the casita twenty-five feet away.
Then her instinct was realized.
Two men rounded the far corner of the house, heading for the screen door. They were big, wearing cheap suits that didn’t do much to disguise the fact they were armed. Which could mean feds or Ward’s men. But surely Ward’s men would be more put together than this? Or maybe not, considering their now-dead boss.
Their hostess trailed behind the men with a cell phone to her ear, talking to someone very loudly, and very, very purposefully not looking at the willow. Or the Jeep.
Maybe the woman had a bad feeling as well.
Regardless, it was the opening she needed. As the two men entered the porch, as their hostess followed them, she started the ignition, put the vehicle into gear and punched it.
The Jeep shot forward through the willow branches and rocketed toward the driveway. They hit the street and the two men rounded the corner, hands automatically going to their waists before stopping as the vehicle pulled out of range.
In the rear-view mirror, the hostess gave a little wave, then donned an expression of outrage as the men turned back to her.
Natalie hoped the woman hadn’t put herself in any kind of danger. Then she employed every single evasive driving maneuver she’d learned over the last ten years and got them the hell out of Dodge.
They colored Ethan’s hair sitting on a concrete wall in the back parking lot of an abandoned warehouse.
He held still as she applied the hair color, though Natalie could see the sensual memories of last night and this morning swirling through his gaze, even after their close escape. Hell, it was all she could do to actually dye his hair, rather than run her hands through it again and get them started back up.
He’d done something just an hour ago that no man ever had. He’d believed in her. Taken her instinct and run with it…literally. Trusted her to know that she’d
be the better driver given her training and not argue about it.
It was a novel experience, something that still warmed her from within. Made her want things she shouldn’t.
But she couldn’t go there because she was a professional, and they needed to get far enough away from Roswell to take a breath, then figure out what was likely going to be their last action together.
Ethan’s words, his expression, had been pretty clear this morning when he talked about her going back to Arrow. And while the words hurt, he wasn’t wrong. One person was more nimble, more agile. But one person didn’t have a wingman, and the concept of them separating was making her spidey sense scream.
Maybe it was her sixth sense, or maybe she just didn’t want to be separated from him. Not after last night. Not after this morning.
So she kept her wounded feelings to herself and went about business. Because Ethan Masters didn’t need to know that he’d made her whole this morning. Not when the entire world seemed to be gunning for them. She’d tell him later.
Maybe.
She’d felt like Superwoman when he’d trusted her. Now she just felt vulnerable. So she did what she needed to do.
Instead of hitting up a service station bathroom, they used some of the bottled water they’d left in the Jeep to rinse out his hair, keeping everything between them, with no possibility of being seen. Or at least no possibility that would report them to the authorities, or to whomever was hunting them.
Ethan was towel drying his hair when she asked, “Who do you think they were?”
He met her gaze and with the newly dark hair, his hazel eyes seemed to shade towards a blue-green that was arresting. Which probably wasn’t a good thing when it came to making him forgettable, but she was pretty happy with it, to be honest.
Broken Wings Page 11
