Until Dawn

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  “I do not drool.”

  He laughed, then slid sideways, flipped me to my back, and covered my body with his own. “Tell yourself what you have to.”

  I wriggled a little in a futile attempt to free myself from his strong grasp. All my effort did was create a bit of friction that brought my nipples to attention. They rubbed against Ethan’s chest. Which drew a light growl from him, which in turn immediately heightened my desire.

  He dropped his lips to mine, and flicked his tongue along the inside of my mouth. Tasting. Promising. Making me ache.

  My legs spread in an automatic invitation, and he released my wrist to slip a hand between us. The wetness between my thighs didn’t need any coaxing whatsoever. I was eager and ready the moment his fingers slid into me. I moaned and lifted my hips to meet the attention. But his hand wasn’t really what I wanted. What I did want was wedged against my thigh, just a few inches shy of where I needed it.

  I wanted him. Quick and hard. And now.

  Luckily, I wasn’t above begging. “Please, Ethan…”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I think we might be out of condoms.” He said it like he’d just announced the impending apocalypse, and I might’ve laughed if it hadn’t half felt like it was the end of days.

  “You can’t be serious,” I replied.

  “I’m pretty sure we used the last one at two this morning.”

  “But it was such a big box.”

  “And your, um, appetite is voracious.”

  I started to blush. And to argue. But couldn’t muster up a denial. Especially considering just how badly I wanted to indulge in my voraciousness at that moment.

  “This is bad,” I said. “What do we—my purse!”

  “Your purse?” he repeated.

  “When I picked up my stuff, I stuck a condom in,” I explained. “You know. Just in case.”

  “In case, or in hope?” he teased.

  “Do you, or do you not want to—oof!”

  Ethan shot to the side, practically pushing me out of the way as he reached across the bed and snagged my handbag from the nightstand.

  Maybe all the rushing and the joking should’ve been a turn-off. Or at least dialed down the urgency. But the sight of Ethan’s perfectly sculpted ass hanging over the bed tipped the scales back to rushing. I barely gave him a chance to get back into the bed properly before I tore my purse from his hands and dumped the contents onto the sheet. I found the condom—just one, but thank God it was there—and tore it open, then pushed Ethan back and rolled it on to him. He was just as ready as I was, and it only made me more eager.

  I straddled him and held myself poised over him for a heartbeat. Then I sank down, plunging him into me. His hands came up to my thighs, and his eyes closed. I let myself watch him for a moment. But only a moment. And then I lost myself in the rhythm, letting the motion rule the rest of the moments.

  It wasn’t slow lovemaking. It wasn’t drawn out and full of romantic undertones.

  It was frenzied and perfect. It was raw and satisfying.

  Full of wordless moans and gasps.

  And the orgasm that overtook me was the same. As fulfilling as it was quick. I rode the waves all the way to the end, and opened my eyes just in time to see Ethan throw back his head. He murmured my name and tightened his grip on my legs, then pulsed inside of me.

  But when I extricated myself from his body and wiggled into a sideways embrace, the frantic mood changed in an instant. Mostly because of Ethan’s next words.

  “I think you should go on the pill,” he said.

  My pulse did a weird little pause, then jumped and doubled. “The pill?”

  “Small, round, white thing. You take it once a day so you don’t get pregnant. Unless you want to get pregnant. In which case we can—”

  “No!” I took a breath. “I mean, no. No, I don’t want a baby right now.”

  He shrugged far too casually. “Okay.”

  “Ethan.”

  “What?”

  “The pill?”

  “If you’re worried about catching something, I give you my word that I’m clean. But we can go get tested.” He said that too casually, too.

  “It’s not that,” I replied. “It’s…the pill!”

  “You keeping saying it like it’s a dirty word.”

  “The pill…” I couldn’t fight a slight wince. “It’s…I dunno. Permanent.”

  He chuckled. “It’s not permanent. You can stop taking it anytime.”

  My wince became a serious blush. “I should’ve said long term. And I meant the relationship part, not the pill itself.”

  His went silent for a minute, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. “Didn’t I say that was what I was after?”

  “I don’t know if you said it, in explicit terms.”

  “Oh, it’s like that, huh?” His hand slid up my arm to my chin, and he tipped my face up so that we were eye to eye. “Lumia. I want a long-term relationship. With you. Just in case you needed clarification on the last bit.”

  I stared at him. “Is this real?”

  “Is what real?” he replied.

  “Any of it. You. Me. Us.”

  “I damned well hope so.” He chuckled. “Although, if my imagination is this good, I might quit my day job and find a more creative outlet for my talents.”

  I didn’t laugh, and instead insisted, “But it’ll have to end.”

  “Why?”

  “Logistics.”

  “Since when do passion and logistics mix?”

  “They don’t. That’s my point.”

  He leaned back. “Tell me what, specifically, you think the issue is.”

  “Well, for starters, there’s the distance thing,” I told him.

  “We’re skin to skin. Pretty much zero distance.”

  “Would you quit making jokes? I’m serious.” And I was, so serious that my heart wanted to burst with sadness at the idea of the space that separated us.

  He sighed and smoothed my hair back from my face. “Okay, fine. Look. Yes, my office is in Toronto, and your store is here in Vancouver. But I can commute.”

  “You can commute from Vancouver to Toronto?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “My work only requires me to be at the office a few times a year. I spend a big chunk of time traveling across Canada for acquisitions. There’s no reason to not have a home base in Vancouver. And you can join me in Toronto—or anywhere—any time you want.”

  I blinked. “Okay. I take it back. That’s not insane. You’re insane.”

  “The only thing I’m crazy about is you.” He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. “You don’t have to say yes right away. Just think about it.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m saying yes to.”

  “To me.”

  “I…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

  But it came to me just a second later. And I started to talk, the words tumbling out so fast that I couldn’t stop them.

  Chapter 17

  Ethan

  The first words in Mia’s story filled me with dread.

  “He was forty-three,” she said, “and I was eighteen.”

  My gut clenched unpleasantly, both at the statement itself, and at the fact that her tone was laden with guilt. Like whatever happened was her fault. I wanted to cut her off and reassure her that whatever the hell it was—eighteen and forty-three for Christ’s sake?—she’d been barely more than a kid. I resisted the urge to interrupt. Her voice was already so small and uncertain that I knew the slightest disruption would probably stop her altogether. I settled for circling my hand on the small of her back in silent comfort, and let her talk.

  “I was still doing the whole gi
rls-gone-wild thing,” she told me. “My friends and I were at club with a couple of fake IDs, when one of them spotted this group of older dudes in the corner. Nice suits. Gold cards. One of the girls bet me a hundred dollars that I couldn’t seduce one of them. I took the bet, of course. And succeeded. Of course. Me, in my shitty cut-off jeans, and him, in his designer suit.”

  She paused to take a breath, and went so quiet that I thought she might not actually start talking again. But after a few seconds, she cleared her throat and went on.

  “His name was Gary,” she said. “A property investor. My friends teased me that I’d somehow managed to fall into that whole ‘marrying your father’ thing.”

  “Marrying?” The surprised response slipped out before I could stop it.

  Mia swallowed and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m getting ahead of myself, I guess.”

  “Take your time, love.”

  “Whatever my friends said, he was nothing like my dad. Gary was flashy. The expensive suits. Fancy car. Swanky apartment. My dad wouldn’t be caught dead near any of that. But I was the rebel, right?” She shook her head. “And the fool. For two entire years, I cut myself off from my family because they hated the man I thought I loved.”

  She stopped again, her eyes closing. I closed my eyes too, trying to picture it. To picture her. A younger Mia. A little crazy, a lot less in control. For some reason, all I saw was vulnerability. A tough exterior covering a scared little girl. Steeling herself against the outside world the same way she steeling herself now to tell me her story.

  She breathed out. “It was all a lie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I ran around with him for two years. I worked retail jobs or not at all. I stayed in his apartment or with friends. He traveled a lot for work. But finally, after all that time, he convinced me that I should reconcile with my parents. He suggested bringing them some tangible proof of just how good we were together. He gave me a ring. And an investment opportunity.”

  My hand pressed to her back. I could sense what was coming, and I could feel her genuine pain.

  “He ripped you off,” I said.

  “More than that,” she told me. “He ripped my dad off. He came in all charm and big plans. And he cost my parents their life savings. I cost them that money. My parents put their trust in Gary because I asked them to.”

  “How’d you find out the truth?”

  “Three days before the wedding—a small, private thing, thank God—I came home to an empty apartment. Before I could even make a guess at what happened, the landlord was at the door, demanding six months of back rent. It didn’t take long to figure out that Gary wasn’t even Gary. He was an experienced con artist. Patient, dedicated. A real piece of work with a half a dozen identities and a decent record.”

  My jaw twitched with anger. I wanted to throttle the man, and I’d never even met him. Ridiculously, I hated that I didn’t know her then. Hated that I couldn’t go back in time to protect her from the past injustice. It was a futile anger, and I hated the helpless feeling nearly as much as I hated Gary the con artist.

  I had to force myself to speak calmly. “The police?”

  She sighed. “Yes. Well. It got complicated. I lost it. I went after him myself, and I was a little too efficient. I found him living in the suburbs and I drove my car straight through his living room window.”

  My jaw twitched again, this time with dark amusement. “The sonofabitch deserved it.”

  “He did,” she agreed. “But his wife and kid didn’t.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yes. To put it mildly. I’m thankful—so unbelievably thankful—that no one got hurt.”

  “That’s a hell of a burden.”

  “A burden,” she repeated. “Yes, that’s probably the best word to describe it.”

  “So what happened after?” I asked.

  “His wife left him, but they didn’t press charges and neither did we. Our lawyers did some fancy paperwork. A friend of the family—Marcelo’s boss, actually—helped my parents climb out of the financial hole I created. I got some much-needed therapy, and I figured out who I was and what I wanted,” she said. “The end.”

  “I don’t think that’s where it was supposed to end, honey.”

  She kissed my chest. “Okay. A new beginning, then, if you want to get cheesy. I went back to school, and found out that I was pretty good at it. I got my four-year business degree in two and a half years. I did the jewelry stuff on the side, and it took off. Like, really took off. So I put the two things together, and voila. I had seed money and know-how, and Trinkets and Treasures was born. When my brother moved up here, I decided to take it to the next level. My therapist signed off on it, and here I am. A really great business, a family who worries about me constantly but doesn’t say it aloud, and some pretty serious trust issues.”

  I pulled her in a little closer. “And a man who’s asking you to go on the pill. Just to complicate the already complicated.”

  “And that. It scares me.”

  “It does? Or I do?”

  She met my eyes. “I don’t know.”

  My ribs squeezed hard in my chest. “I don’t want to scare you. Tell me what you want from me, Lu, and I’ll do it. Or get it. Or be it.”

  “That’s an awfully big offer.”

  “And a genuine one.”

  Her eyes dropped, and her fingers moved gently over my stomach. “I just want one thing, from you, really.”

  I clasped her hand in mine. “Name it.”

  She looked up again. “Don’t fuck me over.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  I tipped my head down and brushed my lips over hers. When I pulled back, the smile I’d glimpsed on Monday—the one I’d been sure she didn’t want me to see—was back, and this time it was it was directed unabashedly my way. I lifted my thumb and ran it over her lips. Warmth bloomed in my chest.

  “When you look at me like that…” I trailed off, embarrassed by the sudden roughness in my throat.

  Her smile widened. “Like what?”

  Like you might be falling in love me, I wanted to say.

  But I had a feeling I’d pushed her about as far as she could go for right that second. I kissed her again.

  “Do you want me to kick Gary’s ass? Find a way to make him pay?” I asked.

  She sat up, her eyes wide, but when she caught sight of my face, she gave my chest a shove. “That is not funny.”

  I lifted my hands and put them behind my head. “You’re right. It’s not. A scumbag like that is no joke. But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make the offer to beat him up?”

  The label slipped out before I could stop it, and Mia picked up on it right away.

  “Boyfriend?” she said.

  “Bed buddy?” I offered.

  “Um. No. That’s far worse.”

  “Significant other?”

  “I think that’s what my grandparents call each other.”

  “Gentleman suitor?”

  “Really?”

  “I think you’re missing the point,” I said. “I’m willing to commit a crime for you.”

  “Noted,” she replied dryly, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to go to work.”

  I grabbed her hand. “Because I called myself your boyfriend, or because you really have to go?”

  “Maybe a bit of both.” She wrinkled her nose at me, then freed her hand and grabbed her clothes from the floor, but sighed a little as she dressed. “The only boyfriend I’ve ever had was more than twice my age and stole my parents’ retirement money, then turned out be one shade shy of a bigamist. So you’ll have to forgive my hesitation.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean your only boyfriend?”

  “Gary.”

  “Yeah, I got that—oh. Shit, Lu.
” I sat up and ran a hand over my hair. “That’s not what it’s supposed to be like. That asshole isn’t a good example of what a boyfriend should be.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “Really. I’ve had examples of great men surrounding me since I was born.”

  “But?”

  “I got a little lost along the way. But I promised myself never again.” She paused at the end of the bed and gave me a too-serious once-over. “So if there’s anything you want to tell me…”

  I stared up at her, disliking the renewed guard in her eyes. It made me uneasy, even though I had nothing to hide. I didn’t want her to have reservations. I wanted her smile. The smile. And the trust that let her tell me everything she just had.

  “Is there something specific you want to know?” I asked.

  She shrugged, and I knew she had something on her mind. I reached out for her again, and tugged her between my legs, pressing my knees to her outer thighs to hold her in place.

  “No secrets, Lu. I swear.” I slid my hands down her arms to clasp her wrists. “If you have a question, all you have to do is say.”

  Her gaze hung on me for a few moments, the guard slipping a little more with each second. I didn’t look away. And finally, she did smile. Not quite the one I wanted, but close enough.

  “We can talk more later, right?” she said.

  “We can talk forever,” I agreed. “It takes a lifetime to get to know someone as well as I want to know you.”

  And there’s the smile.

  “Sappy,” she said, but bent down and kissed me anyway.

  * * * *

  Mia

  I expected my day to pass slowly. Mostly because the second I left Ethan and the Memory Motel, I wished my work was done for the day.

  But surprisingly, the time passed quickly. I got started on a whole new design, and the sketches just poured out of me onto the paper. I might’ve even kept going if Chloe hadn’t come up to tell me that she was closing shop for the evening. At the sound of her voice, I looked up, and was startled to see that the sky was already starting to dim.

  “You cutting out soon too, boss?” my assistant manager asked.

  I stretched a little, then nodded. “Pretty quick, yeah.”