Ethan (Face-Off Book 5)

by Jillian Quinn

  Annoyed, I sigh. “Wonderful. Then, we need to talk later because this living arrangement won’t last long if you think you’re going to hog up the bathroom every morning and make me late for work.” I point at his long, hard cock tenting his towel and shake my head. “That can’t happen ever again. I already told you to keep your dick away from me. I meant it.”

  “It’s not something I can help, Mia.” He grabs himself over his towel. “This is what you do to me. Don’t deny it. You want me, too.” His gesture causes the fabric to loosen at his waist, and before I have time to prepare myself, I get a perfect view of Ethan’s very long, very thick, and very hard cock.

  Holy mother of dragons.

  I cough and spin around to face the door because I have no idea how to react. Wow! So, this is what I’ve been missing. My ovaries are doing a happy dance. Meanwhile, my undersexed brain is screaming, Get a fucking grip.

  “You did that on purpose,” I say, unable to face him. “Ugh, I hate you.”

  He comes up from behind me and breathes against the shell of my ear. His length digs into my ass cheek, making me wetter by the second. “Fight me, little lamb. It only makes me want you more.”

  I don’t have to turn around to see the smirk on his lips. I already know it’s there. What a jerk.

  Ethan always does things to piss me off, but this is a low blow. Inappropriate sexual advances are not out of the norm for him. A part of me wonders if he’s serious. But I don’t allow the thought to dwell for too long. A relationship between us isn’t a good idea. We have no future together.

  Will knows I hate Ethan, but he has no idea why. I was Ethan’s dirty little secret. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. But I can’t ignore the way he made me feel when I was in high school or how he makes me feel right now.

  After everything Will has done for me, I have to help him out, even if it means dealing with Ethan. I can do this for him. A few weeks of Ethan sleeping on my couch shouldn’t be that hard, though I doubt he’ll make it easy for me.

  Ethan slaps my ass, causing me to jump. Instead of a scream, he pulls a moan from my lips. And with that, he knows he has me. He knows the right strings to pull, and it works for him every time.

  He laughs and then gives me one of his crooked smirks. “Have a good day, princess.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mia

  Clarke Murphy hovers over me as I type the last few sentences of my article and send the e-mail to my editor. She flips her long, brown hair over her shoulder and sits in the chair next to my desk. Dressed in the tight skirt and pink top she wore last night, she sets our breakfast on my desk and peels back the paper on her breakfast sandwich.

  She sinks her teeth into the bagel, chomping loudly in my ear. “You’re going to make a name for yourself with this one, Mia. It’s one of your best stories.”

  I shrug against my chair. “Maybe. I need something better than possible embezzlement of school funds. The drug ring that’s running out of Old City Records could be a goldmine.”

  Her eyes and mouth widen at the same time. “It could also be dangerous. You have to get in with criminals if you want to take them down.”

  “Every time I think I have something good, they switch their operation.”

  “What if the person feeding you the information is the one running the ring, and they’re trying to divert your attention?”

  I open my sandwich and take a bite, the meaty goodness filling my mouth. An explosion of cheese and bacon hits my tongue, turning me into a ravenous beast. I have to make more money, so I can afford to eat three square meals a day. Freelance journalism pays well if you can dig up the right dirt, but I haven’t found enough information to make the quick cash I need to cover all of my bills.

  “We could work on a sting operation together.” Clarke lifts the coffee mug on the desk in front of her and chugs the rest of the liquid before slamming it down with a thud. “Another set of hands and eyes are better than one. I mean, that’s if you want my help.”

  “Yeah, I’d love some.” I swivel in my chair, and Clarke has to scoot hers back to make some space for me. “It’s a date.”

  My cubicle at The Philadelphia Inquirer is so small we have to sit knee-to-knee, chomping down our food as we plot our next move.

  Clarke taps me on the shoulder to get my attention, speaking between bites. “Would you mind tagging along with me today? I have to interview your brother and his teammates. You know how I feel about your brother. No offense but he’s such an ass.”

  “None taken. I’m the only girl he’s not a total jerk to, so I get it.” I bite the inside of my cheek and think it over. “Yeah, I guess I can help you out. Things are kinda awkward right now. The apartment my brother shares with Ethan Waters flooded, and they’re staying with me for a few weeks.”

  Her mouth opens in shock. “You have Ethan crashing at your place? I’m so jealous right now. He’s insanely hot.”

  I snort. “Don’t be. He’s a world-class dickhead and a manwhore. You’re too good for him.”

  “But…” she counters, holding her finger out in front of her, “… I bet he’s amazing in bed.”

  His naked body and thick cock creep into my mind for a second too long. Ethan has invaded not only my life and apartment but also my mind.

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I confess. “But after what I saw this morning, you might be right about that.”

  She giggles. “You saw Ethan naked already, didn’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Now I’m even more jealous than I was before.”

  I lift a stack of papers from my desk and stand. “Ethan is the last person I want to think about before I’ve had the chance to drink my second cup of coffee. We have a staff meeting. Hurry up and finish your sandwich before we’re late.”

  She stuffs the remaining piece of her breakfast bagel into her mouth and mumbles something I can’t make out between bites.

  “We’re going to have so much fun teaming up.” A tiny squeal escapes her lips, and I try to hide my disgust about Ethan. He makes me so angry I could spit, especially after the bathroom stunt he pulled this morning.

  “I’m not looking forward to the interview with the Flyers,” I admit. “But I’ll do this for you.”

  She sticks her tongue out at me and grabs a notepad and pen from my desk before following me out of my cubicle. “You’re no fun… all business and no pleasure. Maybe you should consider hooking up with Ethan. It might be good for you. When was the last time you had sex? For real, girl, you could use a little bit of Ethan Waters in you.”

  I laugh at her stupidity, hoping no one heard her as we walk through the crowded office and to the conference room in the back. “I think I can live without him.”

  I’ve done it for years.

  “I still can’t believe Ethan Waters, of all people, is staying at your apartment.” Clarke shakes her head, laughing. “You’re in trouble, girl. I bet you won’t last a week without jumping into bed with him.”

  “Wanna bet?” I quip, wondering if there’s some truth to her words.

  She flashes a crooked smile and then winks at me. “Good luck with that.”

  After this morning, I’m not so sure I’ll make it through another day with Ethan. This might be a bet I can’t win.

  I almost made it through the staff meeting this morning without thinking of Ethan and his cocky smirk. Almost. And I almost made it to the Wells Fargo Center where our pro basketball and hockey teams play, without fantasizing about him naked. I haven’t been able to get Ethan out of my head. Somehow, he manages to annoy me even when we’re apart.

  As I walk through the front doors of the event center with Clarke, I spot a woman with blonde hair waiting by the escalators. She seems lost, staring into space and glancing up at the ceiling. I do a double-take and realize she’s Regan Turner, head of communications for the Flyers and daughter of Mike Turner, the general manager.

  “Regan,” I say as we approach.
r />   Her face lights up when she sees us and waves.

  I wave and walk over to her with Clarke at my side. Regan closes the distance between us, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail over her shoulder.

  She extends her hand to me and studies my face for a second. “Hey, I know you. You’re Will Roman’s younger sister. Mia, right?”

  I nod. “And this is Clarke Murphy,” I say, pointing at my co-worker and friend.

  “It’s O’Connor now,” Regan says, holding out her hand. The massive diamond ring on her finger could buy me three meals a day for years. Damn.

  “You got married,” I say. “Congrats!”

  She smiles. “I married a sexy computer programmer if you can believe that. I’m helping him run his start-up company. My replacement starts next month.”

  I pat her on the shoulder. “Good for you. I bet you’re dying to get away from all these professional athletes. They can be a real pain in the ass. I would know.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, you do. Your brother is an interesting man. Well, we’re happy to have you here today,” she says with a polite smile. “If you follow me, I’ll take you to meet the team.”

  Dressed in a black mid-length skirt that fits her petite frame perfectly, Regan makes the casual pants and sweater I have on seem frumpy in comparison. I feel underdressed for the occasion. We exchange pleasantries as we walk down the hall, the nerves creeping up the back of my throat. Most of the time, nothing fazes me.

  Why am I so anxious?

  Ethan pops into my head again, reminding me of the reason for the sickness brewing inside my stomach. I have to focus and tell myself I’m not here for Ethan. I’m not even here for the other players. This is my job, not an extension of my personal life.

  After Ethan left, I searched for him, even though I had no idea where to start. Because of his absence and all of the unanswered questions he left behind, I decided to major in journalism at Strickland University where Ethan was supposed to attend college with my brother. I’m still climbing the ladder at The Philadelphia Inquirer in hopes of one day becoming a real investigative journalist.

  All of the good stories are handed to reporters with more seniority. So, I have to wait my turn and bide my time until I make my lucky break. I thought I could make a name for myself with a case like the Old City Records drug ring, a story I’ve been following for months. But every single lead has taken me down a road to nowhere, proving to be a waste of my time.

  As we step into the pressroom, my eyes immediately fall to Ethan as if drawn to him. My insides clench from the pang of desire mixed with hatred for my older brother’s best friend. If only he were still the boy I once knew. Then, it would make these unwanted emotions less annoying.

  Ethan slides his chair out from the table, his legs spread wide, and my mind drifts to dirty places. He gives me a sexy-as-fuck look, the corner of his mouth turning up into one of his signature smirks. My heart beats faster, adrenaline shooting through my veins from the intoxicating effect Ethan has over my body.

  I want him even though I shouldn’t step within ten feet of him. He probably has diseases from all the puck bunnies he’s hooked up with over the years. Yeah, I’ll go with that excuse. Lying to myself is easier than admitting my feelings for the man I loathe or at least try to hate.

  With his eyes fixed on me, Ethan drags his hand up his thigh and pats it, telling me to sit. Asshole.

  “Baby sis,” Will says, cutting through the group of muscular hockey players to get to me. He pulls me into a hug and taps me hard on the back. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  I cough as he releases me, stepping out of his rib-breaking bear hug. “I wasn’t supposed to tag along, but Clarke asked me to help her out.”

  “Clarke,” he says with disdain in his tone, peeking over my shoulder at Clarke, who’s talking to the general manager. “The Inquirer couldn’t send someone else with you?”

  “This is Clarke’s interview.” I lean closer and keep my voice to a whisper. “Would you please be nice to Clarke? She’s my only real friend. The two of you are always at each other’s throats every time you’re in the same room.”

  He snorts. “I’m not at her throat. She’s just a pain in my ass.”

  “Why? Because she calls you out on your shit?”

  Will crosses his arms over his thick chest and sighs. “She’s annoying is all.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” I spit back. “Look, I’d much rather work on more important stories, so please be nice and don’t waste our time.”

  He snorts, moving his hands to the pockets of his track pants. “Making the playoffs is kind of a big deal.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just not the kind of headlines I want to make as a reporter. Anyways, I’m here to help speed up the process. So behave yourself.”

  Will laughs. “I’m sure Clarke can use all the help she can get. These guys are a handful.”

  “Speak for yourself, Romeo,” Tyler Kane says, coming up from behind my brother.

  In person, Tyler is even more attractive with his surfer tan, piercing blue eyes, and spiky blond hair that sticks out in different directions. He’s tall and lean with muscles bulging in all the right places. The last I’d heard, he married a local sports reporter. Lucky girl.

  Tyler extends his hand to me. His skin is rough and calloused from years of playing hockey. “Hey, Mia. It’s been a while. Your brother talks about you all the time.”

  “All good things I hope.”

  Tyler smiles in response.

  He’s the captain of the team, the obvious leader of this band of cocky athletes. When Tyler speaks, people listen. He captivates the entire room when he’s in it, and on the ice, he’s a force to be reckoned with. My brother was a fan of his before he joined the Flyers, and now, I can see from the look in Will’s eyes that he’s keeping his inner fanboy tucked away.

  “Nice to see you again. Congrats on the win.” I give his hand a good shake. “So, who wants to go first?” I point my finger at Tyler. “How about you, captain? I want to know all of your secrets.”

  He tenses at the mention of secrets, his body rigid from what was my attempt at a joke. Interesting. I wonder if there’s more to Tyler Kane than what meets the eye.

  Clarke nudges me in the arm with her elbow. “I’ll take him. You can deal with your brother,” she says under her breath.

  For whatever reason, Clarke and Will have never gotten along. They seem to hate each for no apparent reason, which makes me wonder if they both like each other. Guys are dumb. When Will had a crush on a girl in high school, he kept saying stupid shit to catch her attention instead of laying it all out on the table. I’m not sure if that’s what he’s doing with Clarke, but I hate the tension between them whenever they’re in the same room together.

  Since this is Clarke’s gig, she takes the lead and begins by interviewing Tyler, leaving me to deal with my brother. Alex Parker strolls up next to Tyler with Carter Donovan on his right. He gives me a quick wave and so does Carter. They’ve been on the team the longest. Most of the players have only been with the Flyers for a few years or less, some of them still new to the league. It was a shock they were able to make it into the playoffs with a young team, which is part of the story we’re supposed to tell for the paper.

  Will leads me by the hand to the other side of the conference table. “You already know everything there is to know about me but ask away.”

  We sit in two open chairs, and before I can ask Will a question, Ethan rolls his chair from the head of the table and stops in front of us. Fuck my life.

  “I like tag teams,” Ethan says with a crooked grin. “Mind if I join?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you do, you dirtball.”

  “I was talking about the interview,” he challenges. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Mia.”

  I wave my hand dismissively in front of him. “Well, I know how you athletes like to avoid interviews whenever possible. Don’t think because either of you k
now me that you can sit here and give me a hard time. Let me do my job, the one I’m getting paid to do. Need I remind you this job pays the bills and puts food on my table, so no bullshit, okay?”

  “You can start with me,” Ethan offers. “And don’t worry about food or rent. Will and I have that covered for the next month.”

  I lose my breath along with my train of thought. “Did you just say a month?”

  Ethan nods. “We heard back from the property manager this morning. The insurance company assessed the damage. They’re telling us about three to four weeks until we can move back.”

  “Let’s hope for three,” I deadpan.

  “I wouldn’t count on it.” Ethan cups my knee, his fingers digging into my skin, reminding me of when we were kids hanging out on the swing set in my parents’ backyard. “You’re stuck with us for the next month.”

  “Lighten up, Mia,” Will says. “Come out with us tonight. Now that we’re roomies, you have to celebrate with us.”

  “You’re not supposed to be drinking during the post-season,” I remind him.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Will laughs, his smile reaching up to the same blue eyes as mine. “We don’t have another game until next week. One drink won’t kill me. So, you in?”

  Ethan tugs at the sleeve of my sweater, making a strange face. “And you might want to leave your grandma’s clothes at home. Clubs downtown have dress codes. They won’t care how hot you are if you look like you knit the clothes you’re wearing.”

  “Dude, did you just tell my sister she’s hot?” Will leans forward, his hands folded in front of him, and looks over at Ethan, annoyed. “Stop hitting on my sister.”

  I push my hands out at my sides to silence them. “There’s already too much testosterone in this room as it is. Let’s not get into a fight, boys.”

  “I’d be less hostile if he would take his hand off your leg,” Will growls. His eyes are focused on Ethan’s hand, and I want to die for not telling him to remove it sooner.

  Ethan moves his hand, the loss of his heat making me want him more. He must be thinking the same thing because I can see the desire in his eyes.