by T. L. Cannon
“Damn him!” Kira’s harsh words bounced off the walls of the silent apartment and reverberated in her ears, mocking her. She hated the anger she heard in her own voice. Anger was an emotion and she didn’t want to have any of those where Ethan was concerned. She wasn’t even sure what she was angry at him about. Was it for making her worry about him by rushing headlong into danger or making her miss him? She was in the process of trying to sort that out when the sound of a voice once again broke into the silence engulfing the apartment.
“Who are you damning this time?” Ethan asked as he casually strode out of her bedroom as if he owned the place. “Or do I even have to ask?”
A combination of shock and relief catapulted Kira to her feet.
“I let myself in,” Ethan explained in reaction to Kira's shocked expression. “I hope you don't mind.
She stood motionless for a moment, uncertain of whether she wanted to hurl herself into his arms or throttle him on sight for scaring her half to death. “The Hong Kong police want their motorcycle back,” she said inexplicably, deciding to do neither.
“I’ve already spoken to them.” Ethan removed the damp wash cloth that he had been holding to the inch long gash in his forehead just below his hairline, looking blandly at the dark red blood stain left behind by his wound. “They know where they can find what’s left of it. I’m afraid it didn’t come out of that chase in one piece.”
“The same could have been said about you,” Kira chastised as she moved in closer to Ethan in order to inspect his wound.
“You almost sound like you care,” Ethan replied, the soft smile on his lips matching the quiet tone of his voice.
“This needs to be disinfected and bandaged,” Kira stated, ignoring Ethan’s comment. “Come with me.”
Grabbing Ethan by the hand, she led him towards he back of the apartment.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you invited me into your bedroom,” Ethan quipped as he suggestively eyed the large, inviting bed that took up most of the rather tiny room.
“Oh, shut up,” Kira commanded as she guided him to the adjoining bathroom and begin rifling through her medicine cabinet.
“Ouch!” Ethan yelped when she dabbed an alcohol soaked cotton ball onto his open wound. “Damn, that hurts.”
Kira sniffed unsympathetically as she applied a small bandage to the cut, not even trying to be gentle. “Good. Maybe that’ll teach you not to be so reckless. You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Standing with his backside leaning against the bathroom counter, Ethan looked deeply into Kira’s eyes, seeing the unmistakable fear that lingered there despite the harshness of her words. Feeling emotionally exposed, Kira attempted to avert her gaze from Ethan’s probing stare. Wrapping a hand around her slender waist, he pulled her to him, gently but firmly forcing her focus onto him. “I’m not dead. I’m right here with you.”
The reassurance of the physical contact between them combined with his words to soothe her. Organically, her body relaxed in his embrace as tears glistened in her eyes, replacing the fear that had been there seconds before.
“You could have been killed.” This time the statement came out in the form of a profound revelation instead of an angry rebuke.
Sensing a crack in the wall that Kira had constructed to protect herself from him, Ethan seized the opening. Slipping his fingers through the silken locks of her dark her, he pulled her face to his. Reflexively, Kira closed her eyes, causing one of the tears that she had been fighting to keep at bay to slide slowly down her cheek. She let out a tiny sigh as she felt Ethan’s lips flutter against her cheek, brushing away the tear with a tenderness that took her breath away.
“I think you should go,” she stated softly as she felt the sweet heat of his breath on her lips, knowing that he was a heartbeat away from kissing her and destroying any and all chances she had of self-preservation in the process.
Ethan knew this as well. Knew that it would be so easy for him to push pass the invisible barrier that she had erected between them. Staring hungrily down at her mouth, he could see her lips literally quivering with desire for his despite her words, giving him the opportunity he had been waiting for. The opportunist in him wanted to take it and her, right then and there. And the old Ethan would have done it, without hesitation or remorse, ruthlessly taking advantage of her vulnerability to suit his own needs just as he had two years ago. But the old Ethan had also lost Kira because of that ruthlessness and he couldn’t risk that, couldn’t lose this chance that he never thought he’d get again. No, if and when he and Kira were to be together again, she would have to come to him freely, without hesitation or coercion. Exhibiting more self-control than he’d even realized he’d possessed, Ethan diverted the path of his lips from Kira’s, planting a soft kiss against her forehead instead.
“I'll leave, if that's what you want,” he murmured against her temple, his voice slightly ragged from the deep groan he attempted to stifle in is throat.
Kira gazed up at him, her expression blank and unreadable. “It’s what I want,” she said quietly, blatantly lying to his face, stuffing down the distinct feeling of disappointment that she felt as his hand slipped out of her hair just as purposefully as it had slipped in. Stubbornly, she bit back the protest that involuntarily rose to her lips as she felt the rest of his body retreat from hers. With an effort that was almost painful, she made no move to stop him as he walked out of the bathroom door, her face remaining emotionless even as she heard the distant sound of the front door of her apartment closing shut behind him. After he was gone, she turned to look at her solitary reflection in the mirror over the sink, feeling more alone than she ever had in her entire life.
***
Ethan stood alone in his darkened penthouse, holding his cell phone in a tight fist as he felt the bad mood he had been in since leaving Kira’s apartment intensifying exponentially while listening to the man on the other end of the line.
“I sent you to get that sub-concession from the Wong family before Jared does,” Donovan groused into the phone.
“I don’t need you to remind me why I’m here,” Ethan snapped, already deeply regretting his decision to call his brother.
“Then I also shouldn’t have to point out to you that with Yi dead and Gabriel facing criminal charges, Jeremy is slated to gain control of that sub-concession which means it’s only a matter of time before it falls into Jared’s hands.”
“Which is precisely why I want you to use your contacts to find out who stole the The Dragon’s Breath for Xiao. I can’t shake the feeling that Jared is mixed up in this somehow.”
“Is that the only reason you’re so interested in finding the culprit?”
“What other reason could their be?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you want to impress a certain Corporate Troubleshooter we both know. If you’re looking for a way to get back into the panties of the increasingly beleaguered Ms. St. James, unraveling this mystery for her would be a good place to start.”
“Watch your mouth brother,” Ethan warned, his voice suddenly becoming low and overtly hostile.
The unspoken threat in his words were greeted by several seconds of pensive silence by Donovan. “How uncharacteristically chivalrous of you, little brother. If your recent antics weren’t enough to convince me that you’re losing focus of our agenda then this sudden display of gallantry certainly is.”
Ethan rolled his eyes at Donovan’s words, fighting the urge to tell him exactly where he could shove both his accusation and his imperious tone. “Look, you sent me here to do a job so help me do it by getting me the information that I need.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can dig up about Xiao. What can you tell me about the guy who whacked him?”
“Not much. I couldn’t see his face through the helmet.”
“Was there any distinctive markings on the bike?”
“No, it was pretty generic,” Ethan replied, rubbing absently at the spattering of stubble
covering his chin as he searched his memory. “But the leather jacket he wore had a yellow tiger emblazoned across the back.”
“What did the tiger look like?” Donovan asked, a certain tension creeping into his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“Sharp claws, sharp teeth. You know, your garden variety tiger,” Ethan replied with a shrug.
“Was it crouching or leaping or what?”
“Leaping I guess. And kind of swatting a paw in the air.”
This time the silence that greeted Ethan from Donovan’s end took on an ominous tone. “I’ll be in touch.”
Ethan rolled his eyes as he heard the line go dead, grateful that the irritating conversation was over. His big brother had never been one for niceties but who could blame him? Donovan had taken the brunt of the abuse from their father’s hands so Ethan figured it stood to reason that he was the most screwed up of the Chance brothers as well as the one most hell bent on revenge. In fact, he was consumed by his obsession with making their father pay. Two years earlier, Ethan had allowed that obsession to consume him as well and that fact had ended up costing him the woman he loved.
The image of Kira’s face as she had stood trembling in front of him, heartbreakingly vulnerable but still resolved to keep him at arms length, slashed through his mind like a blade. She had literally flinched at the feel of his lips against her face, as if even his most gentle of touches hurt her. And he supposed it did. He had no right to waltz into her life again and rip open all of those old wounds that he had inflicted on Donovan’s orders. But here he was, doing exactly that. Once again, on Donovan’s orders.
Stepping out onto the balcony of his penthouse, Ethan attempted to shake off the resentment towards his brother he felt creeping up on him. It would be easy to blame all the bad stuff that had gone down between him and Kira on Donovan. Too easy he concluded in resignation. The fact of the matter was he’d ultimately made his own choices and those choices were what had led him to where he was now. Standing alone in the dark, burning with love for a woman who was too afraid of him to allow herself to love him back.
“Damn,” Ethan muttered against the stifling darkness that surrounded him as the Hong Kong skyline twinkled mockingly at him from below through the gentle rain that was now falling.
Stepping back into the penthouse he made a beeline for the bar, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. Downing it with one gulp, he was in the process of pouring himself another when he heard a light tapping on his door. For the second time, he opened his door to be greeted by the sight of a rain soaked Kira. His breath caught in his throat as she stared mutely up at him, her dampened eye-lashes plastered to her eyelids making her whiskey colored eyes appear even wider than usual.
The same restless, sexual energy that had had her tossing and turning in her bed after Ethan left her apartment and had driven her to his doorstep on a reckless impulse now propelled her into his arms in an abrupt burst of movement. Grabbing his face between her hands she pulled him into a devouring kiss. A kiss of both possession and surrender, full of passion tinged with pain. With a ragged sigh, Kira wallowed in the whiskey flavored taste of Ethan's lips and tongue with the helpless, soul-shattering abandon of an alcoholic falling off the wagon.
Threading his fingers tightly through her wet tangle of hair, Ethan drew her closer to him, deepening the kiss. A potent combination of immense relief and surging desire mingled inside of him as he molded Kira’s body to his, causing his kiss to veer wildly between being exquisitely tender and mind-blowingly erotic. Kira clung to him like a second skin, the moisture of her rain-slickened body penetrating his clothes and tantalizing his flesh with a sultry heat that caused him to groan hungrily against her lips. In response to this most primal of calls, Kira provocatively rubbed her body against the length of his, causing the hardened peaks of her nipples to tease him through the thin barrier of the sodden silk blouse she wore, the delicious friction generated by her movements instantly setting off an erotic charge between them that escalated their mounting passion to the point of frenzy.
With hungry, impatient hands, Ethan briefly cupped Kira’s breasts through the wet blouse that clung tightly to them, tracing the lacy contours of her bra through the now transparent material, before abruptly slipping his fingers beneath the lapels of the blouse and ripping it open with one, fluid motion that sent buttons flying across the room. Kira gasped at the sudden, violent movement as a dangerous mixture of excitement and fear churned inside of her in an equally violent response. If she had been in her right mind she would have heeded that danger and ran for her life. But in that moment the bent towards rationality and practicality that constituted Kira in her right mind abandoned her. The need to protect herself having been replaced by another, more desperate need that had her clawing wildly at Ethan’s back as if trying to tear away the barrier of clothes that separated her from his flesh with her bare hands.
Recognizing what she wanted, what she needed, Ethan disposed of the gray suit jacket and white dress shirt he wore with the same quickness with which he had dealt with Kira’s blouse. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her to the nearby sofa in a few quick strides, gently laying her down on the firm cushions. Reaching up from her position beneath him, Kira’s eager hands explored Ethan’s naked torso, stroking and caressing the familiar contours of skin and sculpted muscle, rediscovering every unique curve and plane of potent, masculine flesh that made him Ethan. A million emotions clashed in her mind at once, colliding with memories and giving birth to doubts. Kira closed her eyes at the onslaught, refusing to give harbor to these doubts. She had gone too far, wanted too much, to turn back now. Pushing aside her reservations, Kira bolted up from her reclining position. With a sudden burst of naked aggression that caught Ethan off guard, she shoved him onto his back and straddled him as she hiked her black pencil skirt up to her waist.
From her seated position on top of him, Kira slid her hand down the smooth plane of his flat stomach and began working feverishly to unfasten the buckle of his belt, deliberately avoiding the intensity of the smoldering green eyes staring up at her as if trying to see into her soul.
“Look at me, Kira,” Ethan demanded in a soft whisper, sensing her emotional retreat from him even as her hands eagerly sought more intimate contact. Kira refused his request, keeping her eyes fixated on the lower half of his body as she quickly freed his throbbing manhood from the prison of his pants. Without preamble, she slipped the flimsy material of the bikini panties she wore down her legs and impaled herself on him with one irrevocable thrust.
Ethan moaned loudly as he felt the soft, slippery warmth of her clenching tightly around his rigid shaft. Instinctively, he reached up and clasped her face between his hands, trying to force the eye contact that he had fruitlessly demanded seconds earlier. With a slow, sensuous twist of her slender neck, Kira slipped from his grip like a fistful of sand, refusing to connect with him on anything more than a physical level. Disappointment shot through Ethan like a hollow point bullet even as physical pleasure had him throbbing deep within the recesses of her body. Victory mingled with defeat as he felt her warm, silken grip tighten around him with rapidly increasing need while her eyes remained tightly closed, welcoming him into her body yet still shutting him out in the way that mattered the most. For two long, painful years, he had dreamed of the moment he and Kira would finally reconnect but in his dreams that reconnection had been of both body and soul. However, it was painfully clear that Kira wasn’t there yet. Maybe she never would be. Ruefully, he realized that this may be all she was ever capable of giving him.
Ethan gripped Kira’s hips tightly as she rotated them in a slow, circular motion above him. Staring up at her in the dimmed lights of the living room, he watched as she arched her back and tossed her head back in an abandon that he knew didn’t extend to her heart, increasing the speed of her motions with the desperation of someone being chased by demons, racing towards escape. Tightening his grip on her hips, Ethan suddenly flipped her onto her bac
k bringing her mad dash towards physical release to a screeching halt.
If this was all there was ever going to be between them, he damn sure was going to make it last as long as possible.
Kira squirmed impatiently beneath Ethan’s body as he slowed down the pace of their lovemaking, resenting the shift in power even as her body relished in the agonizingly slow display of his mastery of it. She gasped as his hands matched the unhurried pace of his thrusts, kneading and caressing her most sensitive places with firm, confident strokes that drove her to the very edge of ecstasy only to suddenly still, leaving her stranded and trembling on the brink. Time and time again he teased and taunted her body, exercising almost superhuman control over his own as he drove her to the point where she was literally begging him for the physical release her body demanded. When he finally did take mercy on her, every cell in her body seemed to explode from both relief and pleasure as it convulsed violently beneath him.
He watched as she lay shaking and panting in the immediate aftermath, his face hard and ruthless. Before the tremors had even subsided, he abruptly rose to his feet and scooped her up into his arms, causing her passion-laden eyelids to flutter wide with surprise.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned as he carried her towards the stairway leading to his bedroom. “I’m not done with you yet.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first rays of the rising sun filtered into the darkness of Ethan’s bedroom, waking Kira from an uneasy slumber. She winced against the unwelcome invasion of light and placed a hand over her eyes to shield them from the harshness of the sun. Even though she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol the night before, she felt hung-over. With a soft moan, she turned her inexplicably heavy head towards Ethan, eying him with all the guilt and self-disgust of a recovering alcoholic eyeing an empty vodka bottle after an all night bender. He, of course, slept like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. In fact, Kira was certain that she could see a distinct hint of a smug smile shadowing his lips as he slept.
