by Faye Avalon
Ethan tensed. “Why do you say that?”
He could almost see Marco shrug his shoulders. “Just noticed she seems a tad self-conscious of them. Pulling her sleeves down, stuff like that.”
What the hell. Ethan wouldn’t be giving much away. Any fool would notice Amber’s preoccupation with those scars. “She thinks they’re ugly, again courtesy of her ex. He told her most men would find them objectionable.”
“Then he’s a dickhead.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“She’s a fucking babe. No offence.”
“Seeing as I agree, no offence taken.”
Again Marco fell silent for several breaths. “Are you sure about this?”
Hell. Ethan wasn’t sure about anything, except making Amber happy. “Like I said, one time only.”
“What does she say about this?”
“Haven’t broached the subject yet. Didn’t even know if I could go through with it.” He had to take a breath. “Still don’t.”
“Sounds to me like you’d better think it through some more.”
Ethan huffed a laugh. “Not like you to pass up on an opportunity.”
“Not passing. Just don’t want my throat ripped out when you realize you don’t want my hands on your girl after all.”
“I told her.” Ethan took a few moments, wondering what in hell substance he’d absorbed that had him spilling his guts. “About that threesome you and I had.”
He heard Marco’s intake of breath. “Shit. Why would you tell her that?”
“Good sex loosened my tongue.”
“Damn. Would need to be excellent sex for that to happen. Maybe I should take you up on that offer before you change your mind.”
“I took her to my place.”
“Your place?” Marco’s voice raised a few octaves. “Are you serious?”
“She stayed til morning.”
Marco’s hiss as he sucked in air added to Ethan’s growing sense of panic. “Fuck. You’ve seriously got it bad.”
Seeing as his throat had closed as if squeezed by an invisible fist, Ethan remained silent. What the hell was wrong with him? Getting his pants in a twist, as his mother would say, over a woman. And one he barely knew.
“Okay. Just playing devil’s advocate here.” Marco’s voice nudged Ethan back before he could sink deeper into maudlin territory. “You planning on doing things the same as before?”
Ethan sat back in his chair and picked up another pencil. “Yeah.”
“Tonight?”
“Why not?”
“You’re sure? You don’t want to think about it some more?”
If he thought about it some more he might not go through with it. Okay he was doing it for Amber, to make her see that she was special and damn well worthy of having two men hot for her. But he was doing it for himself, too.
Apart from the obvious enjoyment factor—and he had to admit the threesome thing had been pretty hot—he needed to prove to himself that Amber was simply another woman that hit his lust target. He needed to prove that he could enjoy her and they could share some good times before bidding each other farewell when their mutual lust levels declined and it was time to move on. He didn’t need this touchy-feely stuff muddying the waters. If he shared her with Marco, it would put things into perspective. Put her into perspective.
“I don’t need to think about it.” He threw the pencil onto the desk as he leaned forward. “I’ll call Amber.”
When Ethan disconnected, he stared at the phone for long moments. What if his suggestion scared Amber away? Rather than please her, she might run a mile. Easy to make overtones that she found it hot, but the reality of it?
He couldn’t forget the look in her eyes, the expression on her face when he’d told her about the threesome and she’d said that the woman they’d bedded must have been pretty special to have captured the attention of two men at the same time. Some woman she’d said.
Neither could he forget the air of despondency that followed, the way her eyes dulled and her smile faded. He’d known she’d been contemplating her own sexual appeal and had for some fool reason found herself lacking.
Damn. He would never understand the way the female mind worked. All she had to do was look in the mirror, for God’s sake. If that didn’t work, maybe she could consider how she gave him major orgasms just by looking at him a certain way, let alone when her fingers, mouth or pussy got busy.
He wanted to show her, convince her, make her realise what a special, amazing, sexy woman she was. Maybe she needed to realize she was some woman, too.
And shit, he was getting touchy-feely again.
He punched in her number and hoped to hell this whole thing wasn’t about to backfire and shoot him in the ass.
* * * *
Several times that day Amber had considered firing Ethan a text, but each time she looked at his number she couldn’t help but remember what an idiot she’d made of herself the night before. It was mortifying enough to hear those women tattling about her, but then to let it affect her so badly that she’d bypassed the opportunity to have Ethan next to her when she woke that morning.
Hadn’t he told her, shown her in so many ways just how sexy and attractive she was to him? Why couldn’t she believe him? Why couldn’t she accept what she knew to be true and what Ethan had confirmed? That Trevor was a major dickhead and didn’t know his way around a woman’s body well enough to give her an orgasm.
She smiled recalling how vehement Ethan looked when he’d told her that Trevor was the problem, not her. She wanted to believe it, and at some level she did. She was learning to believe it. With Ethan’s every touch, every kiss, she was learning to believe it.
Then last night, up until that moment with the women outside Ethan’s SUV, she’d been having such a fabulous evening. Sitting between Ethan and Marco, she’d felt as if she were the most desirable woman in the bar. Until, of course, Ethan had burst her little fantasy by telling her that Marco was simply trying to irritate him.
Since she was falling for Ethan, she hadn’t really minded. Yet what had she done at the first opportunity? Shoved Ethan off home as if what those women had said had been his fault. He hadn’t looked too happy about it and now she wondered if she’d blown it. Had he even cared that she hadn’t called him?
If nothing else it was time to stop letting the past dictate her future. She was not allowing Trevor and his accusations into her psyche any longer. Ethan mattered to her more than any claims made by a man not worthy of consideration. The last thing she wanted was to risk losing Ethan because of her stupid fears and insecurities.
She hoped it wasn’t too late.
Staring down at her cell phone, she pulled up the screen displaying Ethan’s name and number, then took a deep breath and mentally rehearsed her words once more. She would invite him to supper at her flat and ask him to spend the night. During the evening she would throw all her inhibitions to the wind, show him that she no longer let her insecurities dominate her actions. She would treat Ethan to a night of such debauched, no-holds-barred sex, the man would wonder what hit him. She owed him that, owed him a huge part of her new found confidence, seeing as he’d been pivotal in jump starting her journey toward it.
She jerked when the phone rang in her hand, then gave a nervous laugh as she looked down at the caller ID. Ethan. Her heart tripped. “Hi.”
“You never called.”
She smiled at his lack of preamble, loving how he always seemed to get right to the point.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” There was no hint of annoyance in his voice, which gave her confidence to get right to the point herself. “My brood lasted a bit longer than anticipated, but I’m fine now. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“I want to see you tonight.”
She chuckled. “That was going to be my line.”
The line went silent for a few moments. “How about Papa Niko’s. It’s cocktail night and Marco’s on duty helping out his uncl
e. He makes a mean margarita.”
“Can’t imagine Marco mixing cocktails. He’s too much of a beer man. Like you.”
“Doesn’t drink what he mixes. He leaves that to the customers.”
“It sounds like fun.” Ethan remained silent again, giving Amber the distinct feeling something was amiss. She hoped to heaven it wasn’t because of the way she’d acted the previous night. That he wasn’t growing tired of her insecurities and was having second thoughts about the two of them. “Are you okay, Ethan?”
“Sure. It’s been a long day.”
His tone didn’t exactly allay her fears that something was wrong. She gathered her courage and drew in a breath. “I’ll get Marco to fix you a special cocktail, seeing as you’ll be needing your energy for what I have in mind later.”
He didn’t respond to her statement. No witty response, no groan of approval, no bloody indication at all that he concurred with her plans. Instead, his tone was flat and circumspect as he said, “I’ll swing by for you about eight.”
Despite experiencing a bolt of unease, Amber wasn’t about to start down the road to insecurity again. “I’m calling in on my parents for tea. I’ll meet you there.”
With little more than a grunt, Ethan disengaged.
Amber rose from her desk and walked to her office window where she could just about glimpse the sea. Had Ethan lost interest? She hoped not, she really did. She wanted more—of him, of them. She wanted that night of debauched, no-holds-barred sex. Damn and blast. She wanted that more than she wanted her next breath.
She needed it. If only to prove to herself that she could be the femme fatal, the woman who could drive a man to lose his head, who could give out so much passion it could make a man lightheaded. She wanted to enjoy her sexuality, explore it, and shake off forever these ridiculous feelings of inadequacy and failure.
She wanted it for herself. And she wanted it for Ethan. It felt like she owed him that. He’d given her so much. She wanted to give back to him. Even if it was to be their swan song, she wanted it.
It was long past time to break free from the restraints, perhaps self-imposed, that she’d allowed to encompass her body, her mind, her heart. Ethan had given her a gift, the chance to explore her own body and the intense pleasure she was capable of giving and receiving. Through his eyes, his touch, she had learned to embrace her own sexuality. Now it was her turn to pick up the baton and run with it.
Chapter Nine
As usual, Papa Niko’s was rocking. The early evening drinkers had cleared out to make way for the night clientele. A little early, Amber walked into the bar, her gaze searching out Ethan.
Since she couldn’t see him, she headed to where Marco mixed cocktails and flirted with a group of women. His accent appeared thicker as he went through what seemed a perfectly rehearsed spiel regarding the ingredients of the cocktail.
Amber hiked her thigh-length skirt and hopped up onto a bar stool, smiling as she lay her bag on the countertop and settled in to watch Marco in action.
Ridiculously handsome, his chocolate eyes glinted with mischief and sex as he all but purred at his female audience. One glance at the women indicated it was more than the cocktail which held their attention. One toyed with her hair, another slowly stroked her arm, while another fingered the strap of her dress. Without exception, their gazes fixed on the gorgeous bartender, eyelids all but fluttering.
Cocktails mixed, he turned and saw Amber. After an unsettling few seconds, where his eyes seemed to darken as he let his gaze stroll leisurely over her, he raised his hand in acknowledgement.
Amber returned the gesture, offering him what she hoped was a friendly smile. Were it not for Ethan, she could be hopelessly attracted to Marco.
While his adoring fans continued to watch him as they sipped their cocktails, Marco sauntered across the bar toward her. He leaned his elbows on the counter until his mouth was mere inches from hers. “Ciao, bella.”
“Hi.” She drew back a little, aware the group of women was probably lining up the poisoned arrows to shoot in her direction. “Have you seen Ethan?”
Theatrically, he placed his hand on his heart and looked shattered. “You bring me to my knees and yet your thoughts are of another man.”
With a wry smile, Amber shook her head. “You are so full of it. You had every one of those women salivating.”
He took her hand, held her gaze with the deepest brown eyes framed by a dark slash of eyebrows, and then drew her fingers to his lips. “Tonight, bella. The only woman for me, is you.”
He looked so intense, so serious that for a moment Amber actually believed him. But then she remembered Ethan’s warning the night before and gave him a reproachful smile. “You’re only winding Ethan up, and he’s supposed to be your friend.”
“More like a brother.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles, slow and seductive, holding her gaze with his hooded eyes. “A brother who shares, bella mia.”
When Amber tried to draw her hand away, he tightened his grip. If she wasn’t careful, she’d actually start believing his flirting had less to do with provoking Ethan and that he really was interested in her. A brother who shares. That damn threesome again. Was it some sort of needle thing between the two men? Did they use it to amuse themselves, to goad each other? Well, she wasn’t about to be dragged into their juvenile games.
She raised her chin and put some steel into her voice. “How about mixing me one of those cocktails while I wait for Ethan?”
Her stomach fluttered as his eyes turned flinty, her cheeks reddening beneath his forceful gaze. She tore her attention from those eyes and settled it on the tiny silver loop in his left earlobe. Silky dark hair teased the collar of his black shirt, making her fingers itch to smooth it back.
How would all that dark silk feel sliding through her hands? Ethan’s hair was short, cut close to his head, and she loved running her hands over it. But Marco’s?
Hell. She wished Ethan would hurry up and arrive.
“What would you like?” Marco’s mouth kicked up at the corners, indicating he wasn’t necessarily referring to the drink. “Tonight, your wish is my every command.”
“Why don’t you make her a margarita?” Ethan slipped onto the stool beside her. “And leave out the bullshit.” He gave Marco a considering look, then turned to face Amber. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She leaned into his kiss, thankful that he’d arrived. She’d almost fallen for Marco’s ‘bullshit’ again, and since he’d obviously seen Ethan arrive she realized his silky words were for Ethan’s benefit not hers.
“Let’s find a table.” Pointedly, Ethan looked down at the hand Marco still had covering Amber’s, but he didn’t look angry as he had the night before when Marco had done the same. This time he seemed to accept it. “Have our drinks brought over.”
“Will do.”
At the look that passed between the men, Amber had the troubling feeling there was something going on that again she didn’t have the first clue about.
As Ethan led her across the floor she felt Marco’s gaze on her. When they found a table she glanced back, but Marco was busy at the opposite end of the bar.
“He’s acting a little weird tonight.”
Ethan put his arm around her shoulders. “He acts weird every night.”
Amber shook her head. “No, I mean, he keeps making cryptic comments, like I should be in on the joke but he knows I’m not.”
“Ignore him.”
A man like Marco could never be ignored. Nor could a man like Ethan, and as his free hand strayed to her bare knee, she felt a whip of pleasure right up the inside of her thigh to her groin. She smiled as she settled into Ethan’s embrace. It seemed he was okay. They were okay. Perhaps he really had been tired when he’d called but had now revived. All her fears, it seemed, had been unfounded.
His fingers brushed over her knee, sending whorls of erotic anticipation right to her core. She was already wet and he’d barely touched her. She wanted to squirm in her seat
, especially when he looked at her as if he wanted to lay her across the table in front of them and fuck the hell out of her right there and then.
Instantly, she realized that such thoughts were not conducive to keeping her from squirming. The elbow-length sleeved top she wore suddenly felt too tight, too constricting around her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, mindful that Ethan liked easy access, and her nipples grazed against the soft cotton of her top as if it were the roughest material imaginable.
When Ethan’s hand slipped higher up her thigh, Amber took a quick survey of the immediate vicinity. Thankfully everyone seemed oblivious to Ethan’s wandering hand.
Everyone, except her.
She kept her eyes on his, noting how the blue deepened to almost black as his eyelids grew heavy. His fingers danced along her mid thigh, moving dangerously in the direction of her miniscule lace thong.
Her own eyes grew heavy as her breathing started to catch. “I’d hate for you to start something we can’t finish.”
His mouth flicked a little at the corners. “Who says we can’t finish?”
“Public place.” Amber glanced around again before looking back at Ethan. “We’d get thrown out for lewd behaviour.”
“Lewd?”
“You’ve got your hand up my skirt, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed.” His fingers inched higher. “I can feel the heat from your pussy. You wearing anything?”
Her breath caught between her ribs. “Not much. A thong.”
“What color?”
She could barely remember. “Black. Lace.”
“Shit.”
As much as she wanted Ethan to continue his voyage of discovery all the way up to her damp folds, she knew it fell on her to stop his exploring hands. Leave it to him and he’d have his fingers inside her at any moment. With reluctance, she slipped her hand beneath the table and grabbed his fingers.
His dark hooded gaze locked with hers. “Spoilsport.”
She laughed as she tugged his hand back to her knee. “I’ll make you retract that accusation later. When we’re alone.”
