Audrey's Promise

by Sheehey, Susan

  Audrey kissed her mother on the cheek with a half smile and stepped out.

  “Don’t wait too long to come home again, hon,” Myrna called from the porch.

  Paul shut the trunk and faced Ethan, scowl firmly in place once again. “Ethan, good to meet you. Safe drive back.”

  The curt words were said along with a tight grip, his eyes holding Ethan’s for an additional second. The stare serious as a jail sentence: Hurt my daughter, and I’ve got an entire box of ammo with your name on it.

  Ethan nodded. “See you soon.”

  Really? Wow…first time I’ve said that to a woman’s father.

  “Hope not,” Paul replied dryly.

  Ethan walked around the car, and opened the passenger door. He tried to pretend he didn’t hear Paul’s words to Audrey, but he stopped anyway, watching him through the rear window.

  “You’ve…done really well, Audrey. Better than I thought you would.” His voice broke, which he covered with a cough and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You need to stay where you’re appreciated. Keep away from here as long as you can.”

  Hard ass with no heart, Ethan growled to himself. True, it was his version of keeping his child safe, but all Audrey wanted was some sign of affection from her father. After everything she’d been through, he still couldn’t give her that much.

  Though he couldn’t see Audrey’s face, he hoped she wasn’t crying. That kind of rejection would have made any adult blubber like a toddler. Audrey leaned forward, kissed her father’s cheek and gave him a one-armed hug.

  Finally, Paul hugged her back with one quick squeeze and stepped back, clearing his throat as he looked away.

  A minute later, Audrey steered through the back roads of Mackineer and accelerated when she hit the highway. She’d only looked in the rearview mirror once as they pulled out of the driveway, and the corner of her mouth lifted into a cute smile. Like an inside joke. Or the confirmation she needed to feel loved.

  This woman deserved a lot more than that to feel loved. I’m going to make sure she feels it. I’ll make that small half smile the size of the Atlantic, and move her just as deeply.

  The road sign for Dallas zoomed past his window, ninety-nine miles.

  He stared hard at Audrey’s profile, the smooth skin, adorable freckles along her nose, and long, dark lashes, and he tried to control the heat filtering into his groin. I’ll pay every speeding ticket wearing a huge ass smile in my birthday suit if she gets us there in less than an hour.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fifty-five minutes later, Audrey closed her front door behind Ethan and set her bags down on the wood floor. Before she could verify the time on the kitchen clock, Ethan dropped his duffel bag and moved to her, smoothly pushing her against the wall and covering her mouth with his own.

  He tasted like toothpaste, the fresh, sweet kind. Like the flavor she could eat straight from the tube when she was a kid. But it was his warm cologne that flooded over her most, like a drug that relieved every pain in her body and replaced it with the warmest ache fuzzier than any blanket fresh from the dryer. His soft lips were hungry on hers, demanding and giving simultaneously. His hands moved in tandem along her neck and into her hair, burying his fist at her nape. He massaged her neck and moved along her shoulders, down her arms and to her waist, squeezing every ample mound of flesh.

  Her own hands savored each muscle he flexed. She loved how they twitched at her touch, anticipating her fingers and what they’d do next. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, she yanked it up over his head. He flung the fabric over his shoulder.

  Wide shoulders.

  The groan from her diaphragm trickled up her throat. The light curls of his chest hair didn’t detract from the smoothness of his skin as she spread her fingers across them and along his collarbone. Further down was his flat stomach, all the way to his “innie” belly button, just above the hem of his briefs. The abs weren’t defined on the surface, but as she traced her hands across them, she felt them flex and quiver, strong and tight.

  Their lips parted and his breath was shallow and hard, quickening at the touch of her hands.

  The rock-hard length of him pressed against her waist. Were there no clothes between them she was sure she could feel it pulse with heat. Their lips joined again, feverish and plunging. In the next moment, he’d unzipped her jeans and slid them down her thighs, letting his hands linger over her lace thong. Audrey kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her jeans, moving her lips along his jaw.

  A second later, he’d stripped off her sweater and devoured her neck in wet kisses.

  Her pulse raced. Suffocation by passion was a good way to go, she managed to think, until Ethan held her breasts, kneading and strong, and all thought vanished. His mouth took the place of his fingers over her brown lace bra and Audrey watched him love on her nipples through the fabric.

  Everything ached. The best kind of ache. And the white fire spread to her legs until she ground against him. Let this last…

  His hands froze as Audrey heard him gasp. “Good God, Audrey…is this from the accident?”

  Her eyes opened wide and saw the trauma in the lines of his forehead. Oh God…this is it. Where he runs away in disgust. Refuses to touch me thinking he’ll contract a disease. Fear strangled her words, so she nodded.

  Shock morphed into sympathy in one breath and his fingers traced over the white spider web of scars. Tender, barely any pressure—like feeling the texture of a Monet he wasn’t supposed to touch.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked softer.

  Audrey shook her head.

  Breathe, Audrey. The first time anyone saw her scars in full, aside from the doctor and her mother. And that was ten years. Not like this. Not like a display waiting for someone to decide if they were attracted, were willing to pretend they didn’t exist. She knew how deformed they made her look, how beautiful she would have been had the serrated wounds not destroyed the canvas of her skin.

  The lack of control scared her witless. Almost as much as that night.

  Trust…just trust.

  Ethan cupped her hips within his hands and leaned into her, pressing his lips to her skin. Slowly, he fluttered kisses along every inch of the jagged lines up her waist, side and shoulder. Shivers ran up her spine as he moved down her arm and back to her hip, placing another longer kiss to the largest scar, the chunk missing from her upper thigh.

  When he stood, he held out her hands and grazed his eyes over her whole frame, taking in every curve, freckle and heartbeat, along with every flaw. But the sympathy was gone. The look people give to injured puppies or lost children that she expected to see. Instead, his eyes were full of…thirst.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he said just above a whisper.

  Heat tinged her cheeks and she smiled. Please keep looking at me like this. Don’t run away.

  “Promise me they don’t hurt?”

  “Not a bit. Why—umph!”

  Ethan yanked her to his body and crushed their lips together. In another fluid motion he cupped her bottom and lifted her like she were a basket of feathers, never releasing her mouth from his own hungry urges. She wrapped her legs around his waist, astonished by the strength in his skinny waist.

  “Because I’m not gonna hold anything back.” The words almost growled from his chest. “Bedroom?” He mumbled into a deeper kiss.

  “Behind you,” she panted.

  Thank you…

  Everything around her faded into fuzzy bubbles, a weightlessness that consumed her soul. The only thing existing in her world was Ethan with his sturdy arms and teasing hands. And the bed.

  Somehow he’d slipped off her lace lingerie without removing his mouth from her body. A heartbeat later, he’d stripped his briefs and knelt over her, full glory. The first man she’d ever seen completely naked. Forget movies or media. Nothing like up close and private. And glorious. Thick and ready for her.

  But more glorious were his eyes. Dark, almost all pupils as the lust dripped
from every pore on his face, soaking in her bare body. He nestled his knees between her legs, moving his hands up. Thighs, waist, stomach. Further…until she gasped when he reached her breasts, stroking, massaging, and circling the sensitive tips until they peaked into diamonds.

  Lowering his head to one, he sucked it between his teeth, laving it with his hot tongue. Flicking, suckling, while he mimicked with his fingers on the other tip. She wanted to cry out, but bit her lip and groaned.

  He switched nipples, giving each the same attention and pleasant torture. When he realized the first made her breathe heavier, he moved back to her other breast and repeated again. Enveloping faster, gyrating, and white hot.

  Shit, I’m not gonna last long. Is it him? Or merely the ten years of inattention?

  Steadily, his hand moved down her body as he continued, and reached the juncture at her thighs. He slipped a finger between the slick folds and she nearly exploded right then.

  “Ethan,” she cried as electric shocks sparked in every muscle.

  “Don’t hold back,” he breathed, relentlessly caressing the delicate nub.

  “You... asked…for it.”

  Audrey clamped her thighs around his waist and shoved hard against his shoulders. Like a tidal wave, she flipped him on his back and straddled him. Lips swollen and red, he gazed back with shimmering, playful eyes.

  “You’ve been in the driver’s seat all weekend. Don’t I get a chance to call the shots?”

  “Something tells me you’ve done that your whole life.” She smiled. “And you’ve had plenty of head-coach moments this weekend. Don’t kid yourself.”

  “Fair enough.” He laughed. “There’s a condom in my wallet. Right pant pocket.”

  As Audrey reached across the bed to grab his pants from the floor, she couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

  “Just hopeful. Always prepared.”

  She handed him the gold packet and let him slip it on, watching his skilled hands work like it was second nature. But she kept her doubting questions shoved firmly in the back of her mind. It didn’t matter she wasn’t as experienced or if he’d played the main role in Animal House; she’d match him stroke for stroke, pump for pump.

  She glided her hands across his abdomen as he finished putting it on, marveling in the smooth skin, and then he grasped her fingers. He brought her palm to his lips and kissed the cut from the glass shard, light and gentle. Their bodies sank into each other, igniting another tidal wave. Staggering and all-consuming. She moved through it, rising and falling, pressing his hands to her hips and watching the dancing flecks in his eyes with each rippling push.

  Everything dissolved around her. The election, the fundraiser, the speeches, interviews, the blaming glares, painful words, and inadequate feelings. Gone. For a good three minutes.

  Then another twenty.

  Two hours later, they lay on her comforter spread across the floor beside her bed, flat on their backs, panting at the ceiling.

  “Now I know why you never wore short skirts or sleeveless shirts on the campaign trail.”

  My scars. Pitiful time to spotlight my flaws. Audrey wrapped her arm across her chest, gripping her shoulder and let the sweat permeate through her skin.

  “You’re too hot for your own good,” he breathed. “Your platforms wouldn’t have stood a chance against shots of that hourglass you have.”

  Women’s lib enthusiasts would campaign against her to ensure her loss for loving his comment. How could she be irritated when he kept making her smile?

  “Skin I can lick like ice cream.” He laughed and curled himself on top of her, skimming his fingers up her side. “Hugh Hefner can eat his heart out; you’re mine!”

  Each nipple received a wet kiss from his lips before he pulled her head onto his shoulder.

  “Hefner doesn’t stand a chance. I have a brain. And robes are a turn-off for me.”

  “How about bunny slippers?”

  Audrey laughed and sat up, letting her long hair tumble about her shoulders in a glorious morning-after feeling. Though it was only one in the morning.

  “Want a drink?”

  “I just did,” he smirked.

  “Cute. I think I’ve got a beer in the back of my fridge with your name on it.”

  “I don’t drink anymore. Water’s fine.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. One minute he was engorged on Audrey’s delectable skin, the next he started to spill his intimate side with just a simple question. Not that it was a secret, but Ethan didn’t like to talk about his history with alcohol. Not a flattering picture.

  “Now there’s a story, Mr. Journalist.” Audrey returned from the kitchen holding two glasses of water, wearing a short purple bathrobe. Ethan had already pitched the last condom and cleaned himself up, now trying to find his briefs among their heap of clothes scattered across the floor. He took a glass from Audrey and gulped it down, planning his escape from the conversation. Interesting that he wasn’t planning his escape from her apartment, like he normally would with other women. Somehow, the way Audrey relaxed across the covers on her bed, thigh revealed in the opening of her robe while she cradled a cup in her hands, so open, casual, comfortable—made him want to stay. An hour. A night. Or maybe…

  He set the glass down and continued to fish for his clothes. “Did you hide my underwear?”

  Audrey laughed. “Right. ’Cuz I long to cuddle up against your dirty drawers at night and think of you.”

  The sound of her laugh, hearty, full and easy, filled his brain with…something. Like the froth off the top of a freshly poured beer. The kind that tickles your nose on the first sweet sip.

  He pulled on his briefs, which he found hiding underneath Audrey’s jeans. Then he climbed under the covers with her, leaning against the headboard studying her inquisitive face. So trusting, with flawless freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.

  “I thought a qualification for all writers was a drinking problem,” she smirked and took a sip of water.

  “Ha! I don’t think there’s enough liquor in the world to satisfy all writers, in addition to the drunken frat parties.”

  “Why don’t you drink anymore?”

  Ethan shrugged and took a sip of his own water. Change the subject, pal. You’re gonna regret this.

  “Nuh-uh, playboy. We’re turning the investigative inquiry on you. Spill.”

  “Just didn’t like the way I felt afterwards. I’m not twenty-two anymore and I’ve abused my liver enough.”

  “Dad mentioned you kept refusing drinks.” Audrey kept her tone light, and unobtrusive. Ethan noticed. Her sapphire eyes in the dim light pulled at his heart. God, she was beautiful. Why did she have to make this personal?

  “You were right. Your family has a big heart. Underneath everything, they’re very good people.”

  Audrey blanched and stared at him. “Nice to know Ethan Tanner approves.”

  “No, really. I can see where all your determination comes from.”

  “And yours?”

  “What?”

  “Your determination to get the story at any cost…where does that come from?”

  Ethan scoffed. “My father, I guess.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Not a quality I’m fond of.”

  “But that’s what makes you a good journalist, right?

  Ethan shrugged.

  “What does he do in Chicago?”

  Holy shit. How in the hell did we get here? Ethan fidgeted under the covers and took another sip of water. He should put the rest of his clothes on and run. He asked the questions, not the other way around. But why won’t his heart let him stand up and walk out?

  “He’s a banker,” he bit out. Even he noticed the bitterness in his voice.

  “Your mom?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Asking about my family.
It doesn’t matter.”

  “We’ve spent the whole weekend talking about me and my family,” Audrey cooed. “You’re getting bent out of shape for me wanting to know more about you?”

  “I’m not bent out of shape.”

  “You don’t need to get defensive with me, Ethan. I’m not writing an article. I’m not recording this or planning to use anything against you.”

  You might later, he thought with a grimace.

  “How did your mom pass?”

  “Cancer.” Ethan’s throat tightened and no matter how many times he cleared his throat, it wouldn’t let go.

  “I’m sorry,” Audrey whispered as she laid her hand on his arm. Her skin was still warm, glowing. “What did she used to do?”

  “Elementary teacher.” The edge in his voice faded as he traced her fingers across his skin. “English and reading.”

  “That’s where you get your penchant for writing.”

  Ethan heard the smile in her voice without looking at her. “When I told her I wanted to be a journalist, she used her savings to buy me a laptop. She was so excited.”

  Audrey squeezed his hand, a silent gesture of support and to keep him going, he figured. And for the first time, he felt like it.

  “When I was accepted to Brown University for my Masters, she cried. Went into her room and brought back an envelope full of cash. She’d sold her wedding ring. Wanted me to use it for tuition.” He cleared his throat again, the lump in his esophagus growing larger with every word. “My first semester, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. I wanted to come home and take care of her, but she wouldn’t let me. That Christmas was the first time I ever asked my dad for help. It took every ounce of humility I had to pick up the phone. Just something to help cover some of her medical bills or groceries. Instead, he offered me a job as an intern at his banking firm.

  “When I refused, he refused. Told me I’d waste my life as a journalist. Wouldn’t give my mother a dime. The man has 600 million dollars to his name, and wouldn’t spare groceries for the mother of his only child.”