by S. L. Scott
My anger boils. “I was late to work. Three strikes and I’m out. He made me a deal. Escort him to this business dinner and no strike.”
His disgust is seen as he narrows his eyes. “He blackmailed you into a date?”
“It wasn’t a date. It was an arrangement that was mutually beneficial.” Looking out the window, I realize this is not the way to my house. “Aaron, I’d like to go home please.”
Aaron’s eyes dart to Ethan’s in the rearview mirror. Ultimately, Ethan holds the power. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I start to move my hand away, but it’s captured before I can retreat. “I’m sorry.”
Ethan’s handsome face is contorted into a bevy of remorse and sadness.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to insult you or your integrity. I was trying to save you from my troubles, but all I’ve done is cause you more. Tonight has been trying. I’m sorry, Singer.”
“For us both. Do you think it was easy to see you with that woman? I’m tired of pretending I don’t have feelings for you. I do. That’s the truth, maybe the sad truth. I know you feel something for me, maybe more than friends. You promised if I came back with you, you’d tell me the truth. You’d tell me what’s keeping you from seeing me as more than a friend.”
“I did, and that still holds true. Will you give me another chance? Will you let me explain?”
“You’re asking me to come to yours still? Why can’t we talk at mine?”
“Because you have a roommate. Because I can only imagine the walls are thin and the space not private.”
He’s right. “And your place has all the wide-open space you need to talk to me? Don’t you see, Ethan? I’m right here. You can always talk to me. I don’t know who hurt you or why you don’t trust me, but I don’t think it’s fair for someone else’s wrongdoings to be held against me.”
“You’re right.” His hand tightens around mine as if I’ll slip away. “If you want to talk at yours, we can. Aaron, please drive to Singer’s apartment.”
“Wait.” Aaron looks at me in the mirror. I look to Ethan. “What about the tub?”
“What about it?”
“I’ve changed my mind. We can talk at your place.”
“Because of my tub?”
“Yes. Aaron, we can go to Ethan’s instead.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
Ethan shakes his head. “I will never understand women.”
“You don’t have to. You only have to listen to know what they want.”
A small smiles plays on his lips. “So the tub is the magic key?”
“No, your apology was. The tub is just a bonus.”
We enter a parking garage, and I realize I don’t know where I was driven, too busy being caught up in Ethan to notice the rest of the world flying by. Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses it slowly, his eyelids briefly falling closed. “Stay close to me.”
His words sound ominous. His door is opened, and we’re ushered out before I can question what’s happening. A large man with downturned lips and a scowl that looks embossed onto his face, speaks to Ethan, “All’s clear. Two paps earlier, but they left after we sent them an anonymous tip in the wrong direction.”
Ethan chuckles lowly. “Good to hear, Lars.”
When the elevator door opens, this Lars guy guides me inside ahead of Ethan and then joins us. “Good evening, Ms. Davis.”
The door closes, and I reply, “Hello.” This is awkward.
Ethan leans against the corner and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. “This is Lars. He’s head of my security.”
Security? Head of, no less. “Ah.” I play this off like it’s normal. It’s not, so I stay quiet and hold on to the railing. Lars faces forward, leaving Ethan and me on opposite sides of the elevator. I wish there was music or something to break the tension swallowing this confined space. I let my gaze run along the floor to the expensive shoes I failed to notice earlier and up the legs of a suit that can rival any Chip has bragged about owning.
Farther up, I get a glimpse of what I felt earlier in that dark hallway. My eyes flash to see his set on me. My lips part and my chest rises and falls with quickened breaths. His fingers wrap around the railing, his knuckles whitening. He licks his lips, and my body feels bare under his gaze.
The elevator stops and the door opens. Lars silently steps out, but Ethan waits for me to exit first. I only take a few steps into the dark hall lined with art and wait for Ethan. Behind me, he says, “Good night.”
“Good night, sir.”
The elevator and Lars disappear, leaving us alone, but I’m too stuck on the apartment or should I say mansion in the sky. “This is your place?”
“Yes.”
“Is this the penthouse?”
A small shy, maybe even a little embarrassed, smile crosses his lips. “Yes.”
I don’t know why I’m stunned, but I stare at him, unable to understand. “What do you mean?”
His smile smirks on the right side. Taking my hand, he leads me down the corridor. “What do you mean what do I mean?”
“I thought you were normal.”
We stop and his head jolts back. “I am normal, Singer.”
“This is not normal.” We start walking again. “There is nothing normal about walking straight into an art gallery from the elevator and calling it home.”
He stops in front of me and cups my face. “What about expansive views and a custom-built coffee machine? What about an infinity tub that overlooks Central Park?”
“No. Nope. None of that is normal.”
“So what do we do then?” He kisses my cheek so lovingly that I close my eyes to savor his lips on my skin. I slide my hands under his jacket and hold on to his midsection. Whispering, he says, “Would you like to leave?”
My eyelids fly open. “No. Who needs normal when you have a built-in coffee machine and an infinity tub overlooking Central Park?”
Laughing, he releases me and turns to walk ahead. Looking just beyond him, I finally take in the place.
Oh. My. God!
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Standing in the middle of the large expanse of a space with his arms held wide, he says, “Welcome to my home, Singer.”
My feet are grounded to the spot and my mouth hangs open while my eyes feast on the awesomeness of this apartment. “You live here?”
“I do.” The answer seems to make him smile again, and he shifts. “Can I get you something to drink? Wine, champagne, anything you want.”
“Whatever you’re drinking.”
He walks in the opposite direction of the kitchen. “How about I surprise you?”
“I like surprises.”
“Come with me.” He leads me down a hall to a bedroom at the far end. The door is open, and he peeks back as if to make sure I’m still there. “The tub. You have to see this bathroom and tub.”
His smile is magnetic, his excitement contagious. He has me hook, line, and sinker, making me forget all about the earlier argument. When he reaches back for me, I readily take his hand. He pulls me close and says, “Don’t fall in love.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I meant with the tub.” The repeat of my earlier words make me laugh.
We turn a corner and he slides open a huge door on an exposed rail. I’m about to have an extremely witty comeback, but my whole body freezes when I enter the Mecca that is his bathroom, or more appropriately called, the spa. “Holy mother of relaxation.” I pirouette across the marble floor because I can. “Where have you been all my life?”
A chuckle grabs my attention and I look back. Ethan, in all his sinfully sexy glory, is leaning on the doorway grinning at me. He looks as carefree as I feel. “What are you looking at?” So what if I flirt and shake my hips. He looks as delicious as the dessert I regrettably didn’t have tonight.
“You. You’re beautiful. You know that, Singer?”
I’m not quite sure how to reply, but my cheeks fe
el flush, so I look down. “What’s gotten into you, Ethan?” Aaron was right. Ethan’s unpredictable. He makes me feel unsteady.
“We’re alone.” He runs his thumb over his bottom lip and watches me. “I like being alone with you.”
“We’ve been alone before.”
He comes toward me. “We’ve been surrounded by thousands of people before. That’s not alone. That’s biding time.”
“Until?”
“Until now.”
Standing in front of me, he tilts my chin up, and I ask, “What happens now?”
“Whatever you want to happen.” He kisses the corner of my mouth then whispers, “What do you want to happen, Singer?”
For you to touch me, to kiss me, to—“To take a bath?”
“I’ll start the water.” I watch as he walks to the large tub and turns the knobs. His fingers dance under the water as he finds the perfect temperature. I can’t wait to find out what that might be. Glancing back at me, the smile is still present. “You’re gonna love this.”
“I already do.”
That same grin tempers toward cocky when he turns back to the faucets. I set my purse on the counter before walking to a door. “Is this the closet?”
“Toilet.”
“Ah. Where’s the closet?”
“Are you trying to get a gander of my underwear?”
“No.” I laugh, though I am curious about what he wears. “I can only imagine how amazing the closet is if this is the bathroom.”
“It’s enviable and way too big for me.”
Leaning against the marble counter, I say, “This place is too big for one person.”
“I’m hoping for more one day.”
“Me too.”
When I say that, his eyes are drawn back to me. “I think it’s ready. I’ll get you something to drink. There are bubble suds over there and a towel here.”
“Did you just say bubble suds?”
“Yes, the stuff that makes it all white and bubbly.”
“Bubble suds?” I repeat again this time letting my laughter take over. “That is adorable.”
“What’s so funny? That’s what my mom called them.”
“What, when you were five?”
He shrugs lightheartedly. “Pretty much. That’s probably the last time I took a bath.”
I usher him toward the door. “You’re missing out then. Baths are a glorious thing, and I intend to soak up every second of relaxation I can in here. Pun intended.”
“I want you to enjoy the view and bath for the both of us. I’ll close the door and give you privacy.”
“Do you have a robe I can borrow for after?”
“I’ve got you covered.” I bet he could cover me in all the right ways.
“Thanks.” The door closes and I walk to the tub. It’s an incredible tub, just as he promised. I’ve never seen an infinity tub, but I cannot wait to get in. The view of the city and park adds to the magic.
Slipping off my shoes, I dim the lights on the wall panel. I take my clothes off and hang them on a hook near the door before returning to the tub.
The tub, warm and inviting as I step in, eases my aching feet from my high heels and the tension in my shoulders. I pour some of the bubble suds and giggle. That was so cute and showed me a whole new side to Ethan—the at-home Texan who relates to his roots—instead of the strong, quieter, broodier man I see sometimes.
While the suds foam and the tub fills, I look out the window. The sky is clear up here. The buildings are far enough apart to avoid spying on neighbors. It’s like floating in heaven.
I hear his knock on the door, so I call, “Come in,” while making sure the bubbles cover all the important parts.
Ethan walks in with two glasses of champagne in one hand and the bottle in the other.
“You came prepared,” I note, leaning back on one side of the tub.
“I thought I might join you.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I giggle and reach for a glass. “Come on in,” I reply and wonder if he will really take me up on my dare.
He sets the bottle and his glass down on the side of the tub. His tie was removed before he came in and I notice his shoes are long gone, along with his jacket. When he starts on the buttons of his shirt, I sit up, scooping suds over me. “Wait, for real?”
“Yep. I think that tub’s big enough for the two of us.”
“But you said you don’t take baths.”
“I also said I’ve never used this one. Seems like an opportune time.”
“But I’m naked,” I say, worried about everything—his body naked next to mine, not shaving my legs before I went out tonight. My mind flickers through my flaws. Ugh. No. Just no. Not like that. That stuff should be shared in the dark of a bedroom under the influence of alcohol and desperate sex. We’re too sober for this. I’m too sober for this. What does he possibly see in me when he has women like Nicolina waiting?
He’s more than I’ve imagined, and in some senses, it scares me. He’s the sort of man women like Nicolina land. For once though, it was as if she saw me as competition. The feeling is exhilarating.
“Like I said, seems like an opportune time.”
His shirt is dropped, his undershirt following quickly behind. Good God Almighty. What does a guy who looks like that see in me? “I see you like to work out.” I clear my throat and want to bonk my head on the side of the tub for saying it out loud.
Chuckling, he says, “I have a gym down the hall. It’s how I relieve stress.”
“I thought that’s what sex was for.” I gasp and cover my mouth, wishing I could keep my crazy thoughts in my head where they belong instead of on my tongue. His eyes are heavy, a smirky smirk restraining a laugh. “God, you cannot let me talk when I’m nervous.”
“If this is what happens when you’re nervous, I’ll make you nervous more often.” His pants come down and my curiosity is answered. Tonight he’s in boxers. When he catches my eyes on his package, I’m thankful I’m wearing waterproof mascara because I immediately go underwater. Screw my makeup. It’s really the only way to keep my mouth in check at this point. I count to five and then pop back up. With my hands covering my boobs, I ask, “You’re really coming in?”
“Yes, scoot over.”
Good God Almighty.
15
Ethan
Her eyes are wide, her arms crossed over her chest though the suds cover everything I wish I could see, and now because of her sudden dive underwater, the makeup on her eyes is now around her eyes and sliding south. “I won’t come in if you really don’t want me to. Tell me what you want, Singer.”
She slides to the far side, and says, “I want you to come in. Just no peeking. Okay?”
“I can’t make that promise.”
Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “Fine. C’mon anyway. But remember, that means I can peek, too.”
My cock hardens from the thought of her gaze on my body. “That’s fair.”
I step inside the tub, and she protests, “No fair. You have your boxers on. You have to take them off.”
“Why, Singer Davis, you sure are demanding for someone naked in my tub.” I strip my boxers down, and she hides her eyes.
“Good Lord.”
“Good works. Incredible. Amazing. Awesome. Works better.”
“Oh God.”
“About that. I know this might be a religious experience of sorts, but you can still call me Ethan.”
“Ugh. Stop all right already and sit down.”
I sit, and the water splashes over the sides so I turn it off. The water’s warm and she’s right, relaxing. “You can uncover your eyes. Nothing to see here but white bubbles.” I stretch my arms wide over the edge.
Her hand dips into the water and she leans her head back. “This is the best bathtub ever. I thought you were just trying to get me to come back with you to have sex.” Her sweet smile is full of mischief and is very contagious.
“And yet, you still came.”
Sh
rugging, she replies, “Busted.” She picks up her glass and leans forward. The damn bubbles are thick, guarding her body from view. “To this tub.”
“And devirgining it,” I add.
“Is it de or un?”
“I went with de. How about you, Singer? When did you first get de-ed?” Not sure if it’s the heat of the water or the questions that pink her cheeks, but the color is there and she’s beautiful.
She takes a sip, and sets her glass down. “When I was eighteen.”
“No juicy details?”
“Why are we talking about this again?”
“We’re getting to know each other.” I’d like to get to know her body on top of mine better.
“Fine. It was the first time for both of us. Trust me, there are no good details to share. It was fast and awkward. I think it was over in less than five minutes.”
“Yikes.”
“You?”
“Seventeen after we won the regional championship in football.”
“There’s more to that story for sure.”
She makes me laugh, something I haven’t done much of in the last year. “Same old story—cheerleader, star football player, one cold Texas night in December.”
“I didn’t know it got cold in Texas.”
“It was like an inferno in that truck bed.”
“It was in the back of a truck?” Her cute little nose scrunches, but she leans back again and drinks more of her champagne.
“It was a nice truck with one of those hardtop covers. I had blankets and an air mattress that filled the bed. No candles for obvious reasons, but a sky full of stars and Sarah McLachlan playing through the speakers.”
“I didn’t take you for a Sarah fan.”
“My girlfriend was a huge fan. It was my way of romancing her.”
She stretches her legs forward, the length against the side of mine. Her foot rests against my hip. I slide my hand under the water and run my palm down the side and take hold of her foot, rubbing the arch with my thumb. She moans in pleasure then asks, “Do you remember what song was playing?”
“Fallen.” I match her position and lean back, remembering those times. They were so much simpler.
“I don’t know if I remember that one.”
“It should have been a sign we wouldn’t last.”
