by Faye Avalon
“But first you had to warn him that I was less than perfect?”
He frowned a little. “Stop using your accident as a fucking excuse.”
She felt her mouth drop open. “I beg your pardon.”
“It’s getting old, Amber. This continual need you seem to have to shove it in everyone’s face that you know you’re not perfect. That you have to make sure everyone hears it from your lips before they can find out for themselves. Well, newsflash, green eyes, nobody’s perfect.” He stabbed his finger at her. “Marco? His dick’s crooked, but then you already know that. Me? I’ve got a busted nose courtesy of a playground incident when I was ten, and one shoulder higher than the other due to a shattered rotator cuff a few years back.”
Amber glanced at his shoulder and noticed for the first time that, yes, one of his shoulders was higher than the other. “That’s not the same thing and you know it. Even if it was, I wouldn’t go around telling everyone about it.”
“I didn’t tell Marco.”
“Really?” Her sarcasm dripped into the silence. “What? He’s psychic?”
“All I said was that your ex did a number on you. I didn’t give specifics.”
“Did a number on me? By going off with another man because the sight of me had driven him off women forever?”
“For God’s sake. Marco’s got eyes. He saw the way you covered yourself. Doesn’t take a math genius to do the sums.” He shook his head. “Didn’t matter to Marco any more than it mattered to me. Any more than it would matter to any man with blood in his veins.”
Exasperation shone in his eyes and a little of Amber’s anger dissipated. “I don’t know anything anymore.” She let out a long sigh and felt her shoulders slump. “My head hurts from thinking about it.” Not to mention her heart.
Ethan stepped toward her, his hands reaching for hers, but she sidestepped. He’d told Marco he couldn’t do it anymore, which meant he was tired of them, of her. As far as he was concerned, he’d cured her of her concern over her scars and his work was done.
“I’ll get dressed.” Ethan brushed his fingers against hers. “We’ll go back to my place. Talk this over some more.”
So he could break the news that they were over? That he was calling a halt? She didn’t think so. She would end it before he did. At least then she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d had the upper hand.
She shook her head. “I’m going home. I’ve had enough too, Ethan. And Marco was right. I won’t give my scars another thought. If I can keep two men satisfied between the sheets—and for the last month that’s exactly what I’ve done—I can pretty much do anything. That’s how it works, isn’t it? So again as Marco said, your mission is well and truly accomplished. Now please, unlock the door.”
His jaw went tight and she thought he’d argue, but he stuck the key in the lock then tapped the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll grab my car keys. This isn’t over, Amber.”
Oh, it was. Amber’s heart dropped to her knees as she hitched the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. How could she have known when the evening began that it would end so miserably? Had she known, she would have made damn sure she’d driven her own car and not let Ethan pick her up in his. Then she could have made her escape without having to drag it out all over again as he drove her home.
God. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear being in such close proximity to Ethan knowing that they were finished. That she’d never feel his touch again, hear his voice, inhale his scent, savor his taste.
Her heart squeezed and her eyes stung. No. She couldn’t bear it.
She waited as Ethan disappeared behind the bar and when she heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs, she turned the door key and vanished into the night.
Chapter Thirteen
Never one to slack off at work, Amber seriously considered pulling a sickie. Sleep had eluded her, her mind playing through the events of the previous night trying to pinpoint the moment everything changed. Except there was no defining moment. It had been building for a while. The only thing she was certain of was that she and Ethan were definitely over. How could anything be salvaged after he’d told Marco he’d had enough of her and wanted to finish it?
She ached to weep, but the tears wouldn’t come. Somehow she felt too miserable even for the relief a good crying jag might offer.
It was hard to contemplate that she’d never feel Ethan’s arms around her again, would never hear him whisper soft words of affection into the night as they lay entwined. While Trevor had taken every opportunity to crush her, to run her into the ground, Ethan had always tried to build her up, increase her confidence in herself. She’d always be grateful to him for that.
The sun beat down, heralding another hot, humid day as she parked her car and then walked into the blessedly air-conditioned foyer of the building which housed her office. She had a packed workload, which was both a blessing and a curse. Her brain simply wouldn’t function.
As she made for the stairs, she noticed a construction cone indicating that the stairs were temporarily blocked for repair work.
Sighing, she turned and headed for the elevators, staring at their steel doors as if something terrible lurked beyond. She checked her watch noting it was ten minutes until her first appointment. She took a fortifying breath. If she didn’t want to be late, she had no option but to pull on her big girl pants and take the damn elevator.
This morning of all mornings she couldn’t face being in the exact same car where she’d first met Ethan—talk about rubbing salt in the wound—so she’d wait for another.
Her hand trembled a little as she pressed the call button. Thinking constantly of Ethan seemed to have that effect on her. She wondered where he was right then and if he’d thought about her, about them. If he did it was probably with relief. Damn it, she couldn’t shake his words to Marco. They kept repeating in her brain like a mantra: It’s run its course and I can’t do it anymore. I need to call a halt.
As the elevator doors hummed open, Amber glanced up. With another breath and a determination to keep her thoughts firmly on her meeting and off Ethan, she stepped inside. Wanting to wallow in her solitude, she was mildly irritated when she turned and someone stepped in next to her.
A familiar masculine scent assaulted her nostrils and made her senses reel. Her heart thumped once, stopped, and then started pumping like a barge as her mouth went dry.
Ethan.
He looked down at her, his expression giving nothing away as he pushed the button for the top floor. “What the hell were you thinking, taking off like that last night?”
Amber swallowed, her throat muscles squeezing painfully as her heart continued its frenzied dance. “No point sticking around. We both said what we needed to say.”
“And you preferred hailing a cab rather than ride with me.” He pushed his hands into the back pockets of black jeans, the muscles of his chest expanding beneath a crisp white tee shirt.
“How did you know I took a cab?”
One eyebrow lifted sardonically. “You think I’d let you go off into the night and not follow you? By the way, when you go out at night, you should leave a light on so people think someone’s home.”
As her stomach performed somersaults, her heart broke. He was so thoughtful, so protective and kind. She loved him. Oh God, she loved him. So much. How could it all have gone so wrong? “I usually do leave a light on.” She didn’t expand by telling him that last night she’d forgotten in her haste to get to see him.
He looked at her for long moments, a deep frown narrowing his glorious blue eyes. Without taking his gaze from hers, he reached out and stabbed the stop button.
The lights flickered, the car lurched, and instinctively Amber flung her arm to the wall to anchor herself. “What the hell are you doing? I’ve got a meeting and I’m already late.”
“I’ve got things to say.”
She swallowed, unsure if her nerves were due to the elevator’s stall or Ethan’s close proximity as he move
d in. “Your views were perfectly clear last night. You want to end it. I get that.”
His eyebrows drew together in a deep scowl. “And you’re pissed, I get that.” He drove his hand through his hair. “I can’t help that I don’t want Marco’s fucking hands on you anymore.”
Her temper spiked. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want Marco to have her either? “Don’t try and make this all about Marco. It’s not his fault.”
“It doesn’t stop me wanting to kick his balls in.”
“Well, you have no say in it. If he and I want to continue seeing each other, that’s our business. If you want out of the arrangement, that’s your prerogative.”
“He’s not putting his hands on you, Amber.”
“That’s not your call, is it? All you wanted was to help my confidence in the sack, remember? Why would you have a problem that you succeeded?”
“That was only one of the reasons.”
“Oh, really? There were more?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I thought it would keep me from getting too close, okay? That having Marco in the mix would let me keep you at arm’s length. Stop me falling for you.” His laugh was mocking. “Got that one wrong.”
Stop him falling for her? Got that one wrong?
Her thoughts fired in all directions, her brain aching as she tried to fathom what he meant, how it had to do with him wanting to call a halt to their relationship. The only clear interpretation was way too thrilling to contemplate. “What are you saying, Ethan?”
He swallowed, took a breath. “That I fell for you anyway. All the damn way.”
Her chest squeezed even more, tightening the muscles between her ribcage to painful proportions. “You—you said you couldn’t do it anymore. You wanted to end things.”
“Yeah.”
“You meant with Marco? The threesome?”
His frown deepened. “What the hell else do you think I meant?”
Laughter born of relief bubbled in her chest, releasing the tightness there. She wanted to kiss him, but she also wanted to slap him to Christmas. “You mean I’ve spent a sleepless night trying to work out where we went wrong and all the time you were tired of the threesome? Damn it, Ethan. You can be a real jerk.”
His shoulders rolled back. “Jerk or not, we’re not inviting Marco back into our bed. Just not happening, green eyes. From now on it’s only you and me between the sheets.”
She matched his glare, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was so damn fine with not inviting Marco back into their bed, she was positively glowing. “First, you don’t get to call the shots as far as my sex life goes and, second, if I wanted to carry on things with Marco we talk about it, negotiate. You don’t just make decisions that affect me without talking to me first.”
Adamant, he shook his head. “I won’t share you. Not anymore.”
He said it with such resolute intent, any residual resistance to his caveman tactics dissipated. Secretly, she loved his declaration, loved that he could be so possessive, so adamant that it revert back to just the two of them. She wanted that, too. So much.
“Why now?” She was digging and she knew it, but she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Not when her pulse was hammering in her veins and her heart was in her throat. “What happened this weekend that was so different to all the others?”
He drew in a breath but said nothing.
Amber wasn’t about to fill the silence that followed, so she waited. She’d almost given up hope of his response, when he took another long breath.
“It was seeing you and Marco together. Without me. It pissed me off.”
She recalled having asked Marco to wait when Ethan had been in the shower. Remembered how she’d wanted him there, holding her. Had he felt the same? Had he felt as bereft without her in his arms as she had been?
“Why was that a problem for you?” She couldn’t help pushing him. Not until she’d wrung every word from his beautiful mouth. “We’ve all been together every weekend for the past month.”
“That’s just it. We’ve been together, and damn it I’ve been having a hard enough time with that lately as it is. But I was always there when Marco took you. Watching him alone with you? It was… It reminded me of…”
When he looked away, Amber stepped toward him and touched his arm. “Reminded you of what?”
The tightness in his jaw, the hurt in his eyes, indicated that whatever memory he battled affected him on a deep and painful level.
Amber ran her hand gently up and down his arm, a supportive gesture that she hoped would prompt him to continue.
He looked back at her. “My mother left when I was a kid. After that, my father took to the bottle and the brothel.”
A sharp knot curled in her chest. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.”
He shrugged that off. “He’d come home drunk and shove me out of the bed so he could use it to fuck his latest squeeze. I’d hear them. Once I snuck a look inside the room, wondering what all the grunting was about and I saw them going at it.”
Despite wanting to comfort him, the consequences of what he said trickled through her understanding. She dropped her hand from his arm. “Seeing Marco with me somehow reminded you of what you saw with your father?”
“It ripped me in two. Brought back the memories, the fear, the…disgust.”
Amber stepped back, feeling as if an arrow had pierced the dead centre of her heart, but Ethan moved in as her back hit the elevator wall. “I wanted to haul him off you, cut off his dick given half a chance.”
“You wanted the three of us, Ethan,” she reminded him tersely. “You set the whole thing up.”
“Yeah.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “And seeing you with Marco was nothing like my father, not even close. Yet what thundered through me was just as potent, as destructive. I hated my father for how he treated those women. I hated Marco in that moment for what he was doing to you.” He shook his head before she could interrupt. “I know it’s not the same. Shit, I know that. Marco’s a player, but he treats women with respect.”
“So do you.” The sharp ache of insult faded as Amber looked at him and saw how much it cost him to battle old wounds; the dull look in his eyes, the tension in his face, the heavy set of his shoulders. She raised her hand and stroked along the tightness in his jaw. “Is that why you don’t invite women back to your place? Into your bed? Because of how it was with your father?”
“Yeah. Stupid.”
“No. It’s not. Even so, you’re not your father, Ethan. You never will be.”
“Thanks.”
Because she feared he was merely paying lip service to her declaration, she laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve always made me feel special. It didn’t matter if we were alone or with Marco. You made me feel as if I were the most desirable woman in the world.”
“You are.” He used his thumb to stroke the outline of her lips, almost as intoxicating as if he’d used his tongue for the same purpose. “I meant what I said, Amber. From now on it’s just you and me.”
“I can live with that.” She let out a long sigh. “Is Marco okay with it?
“Yeah. He’s okay. We talked last night.” He stroked her cheek. “When I got back from your place, he was already thumbing through his little black book.”
When he grinned, Amber smiled in return then eased her cheek into the palm of his hand. “I thought this was all about you wanting to end it between us. Between you and me.”
“Hell, no.” A fierce look shone in his eyes. “I’m crazy about you.”
She closed her eyes, letting the loveliness of the moment drift through her before raising her mouth to his. “Show me.”
At last his mouth was on hers, his hot, determined, compulsively addictive mouth. He used his tongue to tease and devour, and Amber lost herself in his kiss, matching his enthusiasm with her own.
His hands traveled over her, as if he needed to reacquaint himself with every inch of her body.
&
nbsp; Feeling the same way, Amber stroked her hands along his shoulders, his biceps— damn he had fabulous biceps—and across the breadth of his back.
Soon their frenzied breathing echoed off the walls of the elevator. Ethan’s hands cupped her backside, squeezing until she was locked against his erection.
He broke the kiss, but kept their lips close. “What time’s your meeting?”
“Meeting?”
“Yeah.” He nibbled along her bottom lip. “What time?”
Her frenzied brain cleared enough to let the memory seep through. “Hell. About ten minutes ago.”
“When are you free?”
“Coffee break about eleven.”
“My place is nearer than yours. I make really good coffee.”
She smiled, looking up at him beneath lowered lashes. “This time, I really hope coffee is a euphemism because I’ve got news for you, handsome. You make absolutely crap coffee.”
He laughed and swatted her ass. “I can make you pay for that.”
“In that case, maybe we should wait until my lunch break. I get a whole hour.”
He kissed her again, his lethal mouth dragging her to the brink of insanity.
When he pushed his erection hard against her, Amber’s head swam. Already regretting it, she reached around and covered the hands that gripped her ass before firmly releasing herself from his hold. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to concentrate on my meeting.”
“You can think about all the ways I’m going to have you, all the ways I’m going to make love to you.”
“That won’t exactly help my focus.”
His gaze softened as he pulled her even closer. “Know something?”
“What?”
“I’m halfway in love with you.”
