The Everest Brothers: Ethan - Hutton - Bennett

by Scott, S. L.

“Why do you feel guilty?”

  Fingertips dip between my lower lips and I exhale harshly. “I was always told to save myself . . .” My lids close and my body begs for more.

  “For what, Singer? Save yourself for what?” Angling around, one of his hands steadies my thrusting hips, wanting more already, wanting more again.

  “For marriage or at least keep my number of partners low.”

  “Fuck that.” Two fingers slip into me, his thumb pressing delicious circles over my clit.

  “Oh God.” I force my body down, my mind struggling to hold on to the conversation we’re having.

  His lips are at my ear, whispering, “If someone doesn’t want to marry you because you enjoyed life before you met, they don’t deserve you, baby.” He kisses me, stealing the moan of pleasure right from my mouth.

  Clenching.

  Tightening.

  Blissful relief.

  When my breath steadies and I open my eyes, he asks, “How do you feel right now?”

  “I’ve never felt this good.”

  “Good. That’s how you should feel after a night of making love.” His shoulders are broad, the muscles of his shoulders and arms defined by confidence. As his hands roam over my middle, his eyes alight with mischief.

  I want to enjoy him in his sexy glory, but I’m still stuck on the table with the words “making love” dancing through my head. Yes. Ethan. Love. I feel it so much in the afterglow.

  “Hey, beautiful?”

  “Yes?”

  “Let’s go.”

  “What? Where?”

  “Let’s get cleaned up. I’m taking you to breakfast. You do eat breakfast, right?”

  Shrugging, I reply, “Sometimes.”

  “Well, with me you do.” He takes my hand and I wiggle off the edge.

  I hop to the floor and grab that fancy coffee he made me. One sip. Two sips. He’s waiting, but smiling. Three sips. “What? It’s really good. I could get used to waking up like this every morning.”

  That receives laughter packaged in lighthearted happiness, something I haven’t seen on him since he walked into that party with a case of Heineken under his arm. It looks good on him.

  I hang back and watch him walk into the bathroom. Damn good from all angles. He peeks back out, and says, “Come on. I’m going to wash you from head to toe, taking my time.”

  Rawr.

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  * * *

  “What?” Ethan asks, looking up at me.

  With a fork in the air and piece of pancake hanging from it, I’m in awe. “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you staring at me?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “With?” He eats the dangling pancake.

  Thank God, because it was about to fall, and I have no doubt after sitting across from him for the last ten minutes that he would eat it right off the table if that happened. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat so much food so fast before. You do realize I’m not going to steal it?” He laughs, so I add, “And this isn’t a race, right?”

  Another chuckle comes while he’s chewing. He takes a few big gulps of orange juice then says, “I have two brothers. Back then they played year-round sports. If I didn’t eat fast, they’d take it. It’s only breakfast that became a competition. Our mother would kick our asses if we tried to inhale our dinner.”

  “Are you the youngest, middle, or oldest?”

  “I’m in the middle. We’re all two years apart. My oldest brother lives in LA. My younger back in Houston near my folks.” He looks down, the subject clouding the happier expression he was just wearing.

  “Do you see them?”

  “Not often. My younger brother came to visit twice since I’ve been here. My older brother is busy with work.”

  “Are you close?”

  “Decently. Closer to my brother in Houston. As I said, my older brother is busy.”

  “I’m an only child.”

  “Yeah? What’s that like?”

  “It’s a lot of attention for one person, and lonely all the same. That’s why Melanie and I are so close. She’s also an only child.”

  “It’s good you have each other.”

  “Yeah.” I try a new topic. “How long have you lived in that apartment? Or do I call it a penthouse?”

  That doesn’t seem to ease the strain in the crinkles of his brow. The fork is set down and he wipes his mouth with a paper napkin he pulls from the dispenser on the table. “Whatever you want to call it is fine.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “Both. Depends who I’m talking to.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Just seems if you’re in a position of power, people respect you when you use terms that fit the image they want to see.”

  “Last night at dinner, Chip was trying to land a meeting with you.” I pause, searching his eyes for answers to questions I don’t feel comfortable asking, especially with the hard lines of his face when he’s deep in thought like now. He doesn’t scare me though. I’m determined to keep those quiet moments he drifts into away while he’s with me, easing some of his burdens for a bit. I clear my throat and ask, “If I search your name online, what will I find?”

  When his gaze shifts my way, his napkin is set on top of the empty plate and he rubs his hands over his face. “Two lawsuits and a lot of photos of me with various women, headlines about drugs, alcohol, and my ex-girlfriend.”

  Wow. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  The check is set on the table. “A sex tape leak or caught yachting with the royals in the South of France. Maybe that you broke an arm while trying out for the major leagues. A long trail of discarded hearts left in your wake. My mind has gone crazy with all the things I’ve imagined you didn’t want me to see. So no, I wasn’t expecting drugs or lawsuits.”

  “Now I feel like a disappointment,” he jokes while taking my hand.

  “You’re anything but that.”

  “You give me too much credit, Ms. Davis.”

  “I’m starting to think most people don’t give you enough, Mr. Everest.”

  “I think the same about you.” He sets his black card on the check tray and the waitress walks by, scooping it up.

  The tips of our fingers mirror together, and he says, “Especially Chip Newsom. Is he as bad as he seems?”

  “Worse.”

  “I suspected as much.” The receipt is returned and Ethan stands, tucking his card back into his wallet. “How about a walk in the park?”

  “Sounds romantic.”

  “You know me. Mr. Romantic.” He’s laughing at his words like they’re a joke. Contrary to what he said, I don’t know him like I want to, and what he doesn’t realize is that I do want to know him. I want to know everything about him.

  “You are romantic.”

  “I think eating you for breakfast on my table might prove differently.”

  “That was good, so good,” I sigh. “But you making me coffee, now that was romance at its finest.”

  “And here I thought you would say letting you eat pretzels in bed was what won you over.”

  I take his hand in mine and lift it to my lips. I kiss it once, twice, three times for luck, and say, “Eh, it wasn’t about the pretzels, though that was a perk. It wasn’t even about our activities.”

  “What is it about, Singer?”

  We stop in front of a department store where we pretend to window-shop while I give his question more thought before answering. The dress on display is gorgeous but I know by the avenue I’m on that it’s outside my budget. Catching his eyes on me in the reflection of the glass, I say, “It’s always been about that almost kiss. That is what romance novels are written about or what makes a movie worth watching until the end. An almost kiss that changed the course of two lives. That moment in time was serendipitous.”

  “And yet, here we are.” Here we are, on a crowded Manhattan sidewalk,
his hands cupping my face, our eyes closed with our lips pressed together—Kissing in public.

  18

  Ethan

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Reegan stands with his back to me. His arms are crossed and his stare penetrates the glass. Pissed mode. I’ve only seen it directed at other people before. Now his anger is all on me.

  “I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. For the first time since this whole fucking mess started, I was feeling again, and I’m not going to stop.”

  Squinted eyes are directed on me. “What do you mean by that?”

  Sitting in my lawyer’s office at four thirty on a Saturday afternoon is not how I planned to spend my day. But it’s New York City, and gossip travels fast. “Can you shut it down?”

  “I already did to an extent, but they told me they’re checking with the other department to find out if the story sold from there.”

  “How can they sell a story they won’t carry on their own site?”

  “They carried it. I got it off.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s what I said. Ethan, we’ve talked about this—”

  I raise my hands in protest. “Just stop there. Singer Davis can only improve my image.”

  “Singer Davis will be a casualty in this war. The photos your ex-girlfriend sold may have been set up, but they exist, they’re tangible and out there. I’m starting to think you’re going to have to settle.”

  “I’m not settling. I refuse. I know the truth, and I’m willing to fight for it.”

  “Are you willing to walk away with nothing for that truth?”

  I stand and walk to the door. “I’m willing to walk away from you right now.”

  “Ethan? You know the risk you’re taking by seeing Ms. Davis.”

  With my hand on the door, I stop, and look back. “Remind me again.”

  “The press will dissect her entire life. If she has any skeletons in her closet—”

  “They won’t find anything. She’s a good girl.”

  “The Bad-Boy Billionaire Preys on the Poor Girl Next Door. Or how about Ethan Everest Lures Innocent into Bedroom Drama?”

  “First of all, those headlines really fucking suck. Don’t give up your day job. Secondly, lures? I hardly lured her.”

  “Hardly?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

  “Why does talking to you about Singer make me feel sleazy?”

  He waves me off and sits behind his desk. I come back and sit, realizing we need to work this out before I return to her.

  He asks, “You seem to think you’re still this regular small-town Joe.”

  “Houston is the fourth largest city in the U.S., so small town doesn’t really apply.”

  “It’s smaller than New York.”

  “Population wise only. I’ll give you that.”

  “Whatever the fuck we’re talking about, forget it. Everything that Dariya exposed, Singer Davis will be questioned about. Do you really want her walking her dog at the park and a reporter jumps out of the bushes to ask if she snorts coke or is a supplier for your drug habit?”

  “See? Here’s where I have the problem. You know I didn’t do heroin or coke, or any other illegal drug that night—”

  “What I know is the photos don’t say that. Dariya may have set you up, but she did it with an end goal, and that goal is money. So you have two choices: settle when they come back with an offer or we fight and try to make over your image.”

  “I’m fine with my image. It weeds out the snakes.”

  “I think it brings out the snakes.”

  I laugh, but I’m not amused. “There’s a lot of truth found in that statement.” Wanting to leave before I’m late, I ask, “What do you suggest?”

  “Give her what she wants—a payday. What’s a million compared to the billions you might lose?”

  “Settling is as good as admitting guilt. I’m not guilty. If I settle with Dariya, I don’t just lose a million dollars , I lose Singer and my family’s trust along with it.”

  “Is she that important? You’re willing to fight this over a woman you don’t know? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying I know her.” I want to know her better. “I shouldn’t have to hide her. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen with her. How shitty is that?”

  “The case shouldn’t be discussed outside of your legal team. You know that. So if you want to tell her details, she needs to sign a non-disclosure agreement first. I can have one drafted up today. Anyone you bring into your life should be signing an NDA.”

  “No way is she signing one. Singer is trustworthy.”

  “Again, I’ll remind you, she better be trustworthy, or you, my friend, could be in the hole for a lot more than a million.”

  “She won’t fuck me over. I know she won’t. She’s nothing like Dariya.”

  “Fuck her in public if you want. She’s great for your image. But will you be happy when she’s embroiled in this mess and her life is strewn across the gossip blogs? I’m recommending you shut Dariya down and focus on the bigger case. You settling won’t play a part in fighting for your company. The drugs, maybe. But they can drug test you if they want.”

  “They’re forcing me out.” What is he thinking? “That could be financially disastrous for me. What are you thinking, Reegan? Are you on my side or theirs?”

  A hard glare hits me. “I hope that’s rhetorical. You may be paying me, but I stood by you when your friends decided to fuck you over, Ethan. You think they didn’t try to keep me working for them? They did. So don’t doubt my loyalty. I gave up a lot to stand by not only my friend, but what I believed was the right side of this wrong.”

  Our standoff simmers. He’s right. He’s been here. “I appreciate you standing by me. I just can’t stomach the thought of paying Dariya a cent. Those photos ruined me publicly and created this nightmare. But catching her fucking my best friend . . . that was messed up. I lost a lot of faith in people after that.” I blow out a deep breath. “Singer is my redemption. With her, I’m finally doing something right, putting my life back on the course I was supposed to be on.”

  Sitting back in his large leather chair, Reegan shakes his head. “You can’t invest in a relationship right now, Ethan. Stay focused on building your business. You don’t have time for the other stuff.”

  “The other stuff is what helps me through the days.”

  “I’m curious. Do you feel like she was a missed opportunity or does she help you forget about this mess for a while?”

  Standing up, I walk to the window and look out over a city I once thought I could rule. I was naïve, blinded by the bright lights and attention. “Both.” Honesty.

  I hear the tap of papers being aligned behind me. When I turn around, he says, “We have two choices if you’re going to pursue this. Make the relationship public. We’ll have the world believing they’re witnessing the next Camelot in the making. Or keep it behind closed doors and protect what you have until we are done with this legal mess.” Looking up at me, he waits. When I don’t say anything, he stands. “Tell me how to proceed.”

  Checking the time again, I need to get back. “Let me talk to her tonight.”

  “Call me tomorrow.”

  I head for the door again. “Do you ever take a day off?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I want my money’s worth.”

  “You’re getting it and more. Now fuck off,” he says, laughing. “I have work to do.”

  “Hey, Reegan?”

  “You still here?”

  The door is open. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Save the mush for Singer, and go.”

  “Outta here. Bye.”

  Not five minutes later, I get a text from Reegan. The public photo of Singer and me kissing this morning has been squashed. Thank fuck.

  Leaning forward in the car, I ask, “Aaron, what do you think of Singer?”

  The smile I see in the mirror grows, but his sunglasses hide his eyes. “Wh
at do you think of Singer?”

  I sit back and look out the window, pondering my feelings and everything that was said a few minutes earlier in Reegan’s office. I was honest with him. I can be open with Aaron. “I like her.”

  “I can tell you like her.” I glance his way, and even though I don’t know if he’s looking at me behind his Ray-Bans, I feel like he is. “Do you mind if I ask what it is you like about her?”

  I’m surprised by the question. I’ve not had to think about it. I just feel it when I’m around her. No need to rush to a conclusion, so I think back from the first time I saw her to this morning lying on my kitchen table. “Everything.”

  His smile grows. “She’s a remarkable woman.”

  “Yes, she is.” I glance out the window and then confess, “She thinks she’s just a challenge to me, someone I want to conquer, and nothing more.”

  “I imagine that’s not your intention.” His sunglasses are off and his eyes are questioning mine.

  “She challenges me, but she’s so much more.”

  “Maybe you should be telling her that.”

  He’s right. “I hear ya. Loud and clear.” Looking as the shops pass by, I say, “Stop at a flower shop.”

  The smile is back. “Smart man.”

  I roll my eyes, but laugh. Despite my lack of trust in most people, I trust Aaron implicitly.

  Within the hour, the car is waiting curbside. Taking Reegan’s advice, I stay inside the vehicle, but it irks me to see Aaron and Singer laughing when she walks out of her apartment. Irks might be too strong. I like that they get along. Aaron may be my driver, but he’s also my friend, even if we keep things more centered on business. So maybe jealousy fits better than irks.

  She slips in the back seat with me, and I kiss her the second the door closes. Laughter trickles through the car, music to my ears, and then she asks, “Did you miss me?”

  “I did. More than you’d believe if I told you.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “I missed you, Singer Davis.”

  Wrapping her arms around me, she hugs my neck and I embrace her by the waist, sliding her onto my lap. “I missed you, too, Ethan Everest.”

  Smiling, I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of her in my arms. Feeling. It’s all about feelings—instinctive and natural—when I’m with her. I could get drunk on the emotions consuming me. All for her.