by Leisa Rayven
He sounds relaxed, but the way he’s breathing and the subtle movement of his hips tell me otherwise. Seeing him like this, barely restrained, makes me want to torture him even more. Marco helps with my mission.
“Okay, Ethan, move her to the bed. Cassie, I want him between your legs.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Ethan lowers me onto the bed then crawls between my legs. I pull off his shirt and wrap my arms around his neck as he settles against my crotch. He groans and drops his head onto my shoulder.
“This is fucking ridiculous. Why can’t it be like a movie set where they get stand-ins to do this stuff?”
I try to hold myself still. If I didn’t hate tech rehearsals before, this experience is enough to make me despise them. With every minute that passes, I feel more out of control. My instincts are telling me to take back my power. Fuck him. Let body-quaking sex dull all of my other thought processes.
Simplify things in the most complicated way possible.
“You okay?” he says as he leans on his elbows. “I’m not crushing you?”
“You’re fine.”
He shifts his weight. “Are you trying to drive me insane by moving like that?”
“Like what?”
He looks between us. I realize I’m rocking my pelvis against him. Just enough to take the edge off the ache.
He lets out another low groan.
“Cassie . . .” He closes his eyes and puts more weight against me. The added pressure is nice, but it stops my movements. “Have some pity, woman. You’re killing me.”
The lights brighten a little.
“Okay, Ethan,” Marco says, “some thrusting please.”
Ethan lets out a short laugh. “Thrusting. Of course. Just what I need right now.”
He fake thrusts while keeping his erection away from me.
Evil thoughts fill my brain as I stroke the back of his neck and bring one hand down to his chest to graze his nipple.
His rhythm falters. “Stop it.”
“Why?” I trail a finger down his abs, and his face turns red.
“You know why.” His voice has dropped an octave. It’s full of breath and dripping with want.
“Tell me.”
“Cassie . . . please . . . not now.”
I’m Aphrodite again. He can’t hide how much he wants me, and it’s intoxicating.
“Don’t you want me to touch you? Don’t you want me to be your girlfriend again? Break that three-year-long dry spell?”
I brush against the line of him through his pants. He hisses and swears. I smile and keep going.
“This isn’t fucking funny. We’re working.”
I press my palm fully against him. His whole body tenses.
Ahhhh, there it is. The rush of power. My domination over him is written all over his face. The way his eyelids flutter and close.
“Fuck . . .”
I keep stroking him, and he looks like he’s being electrocuted. He grunts and drops his pelvis down, which traps my hand between us. I squeeze him, because it’s all I can do. Apparently it’s enough. He stiffens and clamps his eyes shut, then clenches his jaw to stifle a moan. After long seconds of tension, he relaxes and glares at me.
I try to play innocent, but I’m not as good as he is. After what I just did, that much is obvious.
He grabs my hand from between us and plants it at the side of my head. He’s pissed. Really pissed.
“That was out of line,” he whispers. “What the fuck did I do to deserve that?”
I look down, too embarrassed to answer. What the hell am I doing?
“You don’t need to do this,” he says, and it’s clear he’s trying to hide how angry he really is. “Whatever game this is, just stop. You own me. You always have. I thought reading my journals would have proven that to you.”
“Okay, everyone,” Elissa says over the P.A. system, “that’s a thirty-minute break while we reset for the next scene, thank you.”
Ethan climbs off me and grabs his shirt. Then he stalks offstage without a backward glance.
My face burns as regret and guilt slither through my veins. I throw my arm over my eyes, as if I can hide from myself. He’s trying so hard to show me he’s changed, and I’m determined to drag him back into our old patterns. What the hell good is that going to do anyone, especially me?
“Cassie?”
I open my eyes to see Elissa standing over me.
“You okay?”
I have the urge to giggle hysterically. The one thing I’m absolutely not is “okay”.
“Sure, Elissa. Great.”
She nods, but the hard press of her mouth tells me she’s not buying it. “Uh-huh. So, Ethan looks ragey. What did you do?”
I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Ethan’s shame might be on vacation, but mine is very much present. “Oh, you know. The usual. Unleashed my inner bitch on him.”
She nods again. Her disapproval engulfs me like a noxious cloud.
“As your stage manager, I have to remind you that maintaining professional conduct with all members of this company is required.” In a gentler tone, she says, “As Ethan’s sister, I want to tell you that he’s dragged himself to hell and back to become a better person for you. He really wants this to work.”
“By hell and back, do you mean the accident?”
She frowns. “He told you about that?”
“Grudgingly.”
“Then you know what he’s been through.”
I nod. “I do. And I want things to work with us, but I can’t change overnight.”
“I know that. Neither could he, but he wanted to. Do you?”
Marco walks across the stage, clearly agitated. “Elissa! I need you. I have every intention of hunting Lance down and flaying his skin from his bones. I need you to stop me.”
“Coming.”
She leaves, and it’s just me, sitting on a fake bed in a fake house, trying to figure out how to make all the fake parts of me line up to form a real person. Most importantly, a person I actually like.
*
I knock on the dressing room door.
There’s no response. When I enter, Ethan mutters, “I didn’t say to come in.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t say ‘fuck off’ either, so I figured I’d take a chance.”
I close the door and lean against it. He’s sitting on the couch opposite the mirrors, head back, eyes closed. He’s changed into his own jeans, which is understandable considering what just happened.
“What do you want, Cassie?”
“To talk.”
“No, I mean, what do you want from me? Tell me what I’m doing wrong, because I’m really trying here, but it feels like I’m just finding new ways to lose you.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. I press my back into the door. It reminds me that a backbone is there for a reason and not just to hang my bones on.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper it. Ashamed. Afraid after all this time that I’m not good enough for him.
“You don’t need to apologize,” he says as he rubs his eyes. “I just had a grand romantic fantasy of how things would be when we got intimate again. Strangely enough, blowing my load fully clothed during a tech run wasn’t part of the plan.”
He still doesn’t move. I go sit next to him and pull his hand away from his face. He’s flushed. I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger. Maybe both.
“Yeah, I kind of missed that memo. Sorry for orgasming you against your will.”
He laughs. “It’s ironic, considering the amount of times I’ve practically begged you to touch me like that. I’d almost forgotten how quickly you can make me come when you put your mind to it. It’s mortifying.”
He looks at his hands as he fiddles with the hem of my sk
irt and occasionally brushes my thigh.
“Sorry. I guess . . . I wanted to see if I still had power over you. I thought maybe you’d outgrown it.”
Now he looks at me, incredulous. He opens and closes his mouth and blinks. Then he frowns at me.
“You’ve met me, right? I’m Ethan. Late-night drunk dialer. Compulsive ass-groper. Shameless boob-ogler. Forever-erect-in-your-presence serial masturbator. How the hell could I possibly outgrow that? If anything, it’s gotten worse over the years. Did you not just witness me coming from you fondling my cock for less than three minutes? Mystery solved. Was it gratifying to see me completely lose my shit in record time?”
“A little.”
He nods. “At least you’re being honest.”
Honest. Right. He used to tell me I’d be horrified if I knew the stuff that went through his head every day. Now the reverse is true. Still, I know nothing’s going to improve between us if I keep things from him.
I take a deep breath and say, “Elissa said I need to figure out if I can make this work, and if I can’t, I need to let you get on with your life.”
He turns to me, his expression intense and on edge.
“I love my sister, but she really needs to stop giving you sucky advice.”
“She’s trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“Don’t you? Have you considered that maybe you’re placing all your hope in something that’s doomed to fail?”
That makes him pause. He studies me. “No. Have you?”
I want to laugh. “Ethan, that’s all I’ve thought about for the last three years. I mean, I know the accident inspired you to better yourself and try to get me back or whatever, but until we started this show, I didn’t know that. As far as I was concerned, we were over. We’d been over for a long time. I had my future all planned out, and as painful as it was to admit, you weren’t going to be a part of it. Now I have to entertain the possibility that you’ve changed and will stick around? I mean, come on. It’s difficult to process. Did you ever think that your epic plan to get us back together should have included consulting me?”
“I tried to tell you in the emails.”
“But you didn’t. You told me you were getting help and that you wanted to be part of my life again, but you spoke about being friends, nothing more. You didn’t even tell me you loved me, remember?”
His shoulders slump. “Fuck, Cassie, I’m sorry. I thought I had it all figured out, but I’m kind of new to this whole winning back the love of my life thing.”
He says it so easily. Like it’s not one of the most momentous things he’s ever uttered.
Love of my life.
It’s such a cliché, but that’s exactly what we are to each other. Even if we both walk away now and end up in other relationships, we’ll forever be that. Some people never find it. Yet here it is right in front of me, and I have no idea how to keep it.
“Cassie, remember how pissed you used to get when I was thinking important stuff but wouldn’t tell you? Care to share?”
I sigh. “I’m thinking that . . . I really want to get back to how I used to be, but I don’t know how, and part of me thinks it might be too late, anyway.”
“That’s not true.”
“What if it is? Denying how badly this could end up doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. I think you believe that if you ignore I’m broken, it will somehow make it not true. But it is.”
“Cassie . . .”
I stand and pace. He wants to know what I’m thinking? All of a sudden, I want to give it to him.
“And I sometimes think the only reason you want me back is because sexually we’re spectacular. But what if we get back together, and months from now we realize that apart from great sex, we have nothing in common? Then we’ll have gone through all of this for nothing.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it? Maybe we’re just one of those volatile couples who are supposed to fuck like animals for a few months then go their separate ways. We’ve never really had the chance to get each other out of our systems. But what if we did?”
He stares at me. “You don’t honestly believe that.”
“Maybe I do. I don’t even know anymore.”
He shakes his head and smiles.
Smiles.
Why doesn’t he look terrified? I just spewed all of my crazy at him, and he seems completely calm.
“Cassie, come here.”
He’s still so calm, he’s like freaking Buddha. If Tristan were here, he’d have a Zen-boner.
“Please,” he says, as I stew in my agitation. “I need to show you something.”
I go and stand in front of him. He takes my hands and strokes them gently, then pulls me forward until I’m straddling him.
Now I’m agitated and aroused. Not sure what this is going to prove.
“I thought we were keeping this platonic,” I say as he grips my hips.
“We are.”
I grind onto his growing erection. “Uh-huh. That guy is making a liar out of you.”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. The contact is almost too much. A vicious ache immediately grows, reinforcing my point about our sexual chemistry driving the disaster train of our relationship. I want to soothe the burn, but he tightens his arms and just hugs me. Breathes into my throat and wraps me in reassurance as he urges me to relax more with every exhale.
“Just breathe,” he whispers. “Ignore everything else.”
I close my eyes and try to do as he says.
Within a few minutes my lust has ebbed to a vague simmer, but in its place is something else. Potential happiness.
He strokes my back, and I melt into him. He leans back, and I follow. After a while the rest of the world ceases to exist. Our universe is the hush of air between his lips and my throat. The brush of his fingers on my neck.
“Do you feel this?” he whispers. “This is why we keep coming back, despite everything we’ve gone through. It’s why I had to change, and why, despite how much I hurt you, you can’t walk away. The way we sink into each other. The way I can’t tell my heartbeat from yours. We have this perfect rhythm, whenever we’re together, and that’s the essence of us. It’s not just about sex. It’s about this.”
He pushes me back so I can see his face. “Cassie, I want to be with you. Always. If that involves us being naked and making love in a hundred different ways every day for the rest of our lives, that’s fantastic. If it involves us sitting and talking wearing cast-iron body suits, that’s fantastic, too. I just want you. Now. A week from now. A decade. Whenever you’re ready. What I want is never going to change. It’s you. Just you.”
I take in a ragged breath. What he’s saying . . .
He strokes my arms. Keeps me grounded in this moment.
“That’s why I haven’t had sex for three years,” he says as he runs his hands up my shoulders and caresses the back of my neck. “There were plenty of girls who reminded me of you. If I’d squinted, I could have easily pretended they were you. But I didn’t want a lookalike. I’ve haven’t been able to have sex without emotion since you, and considering you own all of my emotions, who the fuck was I going to have sex with? From the moment I met you, it was only ever going to be you.”
I lean my forehead against his. “But—”
“No buts. If our relationship was based only on sex, do you think we’d have gone through all the shit we have? Sex is easy. And as much as I love having sex with you, what I want from you isn’t easy. It’s messy and complicated, and I don’t have a clue how to cope with it all. But I’ll find a way, because I love you. And love is hard, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it. And I hope one day you’ll realize I’m worth it, too.”
I’m too choked up to speak.
I’ve always known he’s worth it. I knew it before he did. I just need to stop doubting we can make this work.
“Ethan? Your therapist. Do you think . . . would she maybe take me on?”
He frowns. “I don’t know. Is that something you want to try?”
I nod. “I want to change, but I can’t do it by myself. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I need help.”
He pulls me into a hug, and I feel his breath against my throat as I stroke his hair.
“We’re going to get through this,” he says. “Have no doubt.”
I squeeze him tighter. “That’s the plan.”
NINETEEN
EMOTIONAL EVOLUTION
Four Years Earlier
Aberdeen, Washington State
The thing about developing an addiction is that it happens so quietly you don’t know how much trouble you’re in until it’s too late. Until you don’t know where you end and it begins.
By the end of our second year at The Grove, my sexual encounters with Ethan have increased in frequency, but I tell myself I have it under control. Whenever we stray into areas that feel too intimate, I go cold turkey for a couple of days to remind myself he’s a luxury, not a necessity.
It’s not until I go home for the summer that it occurs to me I may be in trouble. For the first few days, I’m fine. I sleep in. Spend time with my parents. Listen to music and pray for sunshine. By the end of the first week, I’m antsy. I think about him way too much. His face. His smell. What I wouldn’t give for just one hit of his smell.
Halfway through the second week, I take a job at the local diner, partly as a distraction to stop me thinking about him, and partly to get me out of the house so I won’t have to listen to my parents argue.
By the end of the third week, I’m in full-blown withdrawals. Intolerant. Needing a fix of someone who’s on the other side of the country, and pissed with everything and everyone that’s not him.
I guess he misses me too, because on my way home from work at the beginning of the fourth week, I receive a text.