Sadie’s fingertips traced an outline on the front of his black T-shirt, following a pattern made by water dripping from her hair. With a sigh, her body relaxed into his. She sent her arms upward to wrap around his back. That subtle shift, that release of tension, was all he needed. With a groan, he ran a hand up her side, cradling a breast with his palm as he took her mouth with his.
She tasted sweet—her lips cool from the pool water, her tongue hot against his. The scent of chlorine and late-blooming lilacs slid into him…insidious, persistent. He couldn’t shake the scent any more than he could shake his desire to taste her mouth, her body.
Ethan crushed her to him, cupping her buttock with one hand as the other massaged her breast, pulling her in tighter, closer. He clashed his mouth to hers, taking her air, feeding off her.
Sadie broke her mouth free from his, gasping desperately. She moved her mouth to his neck, covering it with hot, wet kisses, biting her way up his jaw line.
“I need you,” he grated out.
Sadie’s sharp intake of breath aroused him further. Her body quivered under his hands, against his frame, giving him the answer he sought. Ethan slid his hands down her back, following the curve of her hips with his hands. He shoved one khaki-clad knee between her legs, raising it high until her hips were spread around his, her toes barely touching the ground.
“Take these clothes off me,” he demanded.
Sadie’s hands shook as she grabbed his T-shirt from behind. She ripped it off over his head, dropping her hands to unbutton the fly of his pants. She undid the zipper and hurriedly pulled his pants off, evidence of his arousal plain for both to see. Their bare bodies stood clasped together, one wet and soft, the other dry and hard.
“The cabana,” Sadie whispered. “There’s a bed in the cabana.”
In a smooth motion, Ethan swept her up in his arms and made his way to the cabana, only a few feet away. The gauze curtains swirled and billowed in the late afternoon breeze, beckoning, inviting.
Her body glimmered with drops of pool water, but Ethan made no attempt to dry her. Instead, he placed her on the bed and followed her down, melding his body with hers. One hand stroked her face as he looked deep into her eyes. The other swirled around her pleasure spot, using the lightest of touches until she bucked her hips upward.
Sadie arched her back. “Ethan.” His name was whispered between pants and gasps. “Take me. Please, take me.”
He knew he should stop, should stand up and walk away. Sadie deserved better than this, deserved his loyalty to the festival, to her. But he couldn’t tear himself away—something held him tight to her, blended him with her in a way he couldn’t name. He could feel the difference in their lovemaking this time compared to their encounter in the spring. It wasn’t just his body that ached for her.
Somehow, his heart had become involved.
* * *
The air in the cabana hung heavy. Sweet. In the back of Sadie’s mind were whispered warnings, but as the roar of passion grew, the warnings faded to black. Ethan’s breath on her face brought up deep animal instincts. She hungered for him, needed him. This was no longer her schoolgirl crush—this was more, immensely more.
She bent her neck forward until their heads were touching, her wet blond hair tangling with his dry black curls. Ethan pulled up, away. Cool air brushed over her, tempering the molten heat. She sobbed and pulled at Ethan’s shoulders, willing his body to come back to her, to cover her, to heat her—to bring back the volcano.
When Ethan opened his eyes, she saw her own feral heat reflected.
“Condoms?” he grated out.
She pointed to the small cupboard next to the bed. He reached in, pulled one out, then sheathed himself. In moments, he was inside her. Shivers tore through her, ripped from her by his forceful entrance. She curved her core, trying to keep her face next to his, sucking in his jagged exhales. And then they were flying, soaring together, across oceans and canyons and mountains and valleys. Sadie sobbed, clutching at Ethan’s back, at his shoulders, wrapping herself tightly around his frame, wending her fingers in his hair, opening her heart to his. Her body tightened and shook, readying itself for the ultimate release. A wave of warmth flowed over her, a budding climax—no—something different, something unknown.
Her eyes flew open to see Ethan staring straight at her. He broke eye contact to kiss her, his mouth hard and his tongue deep, communicating something more profound than words. The wave of warmth flooded her again as she peaked.
She knew as she climaxed that this warm, flowing river washing over her was love. Pure, unfiltered love. Impossible love.
* * *
Gasping for breath, Ethan collapsed his weight on Sadie’s lean frame.
Oh, God, Sadie loved him.
As she’d climaxed, she’d cried out that she loved him. What the hell was he to do? He ducked his head, pressing his forehead against hers, eyes closed.
He’d done it again—slept with Sadie. Only this time it hadn’t been two friends having fun. This time it had been primal, instinctive—a coming together out of need, desperation, want and desire.
And she’d said she loved him.
Immediately the regret began. He’d screwed up. Sadie was going to get hurt.
Ethan rolled off her and watched her struggle to gather her composure. Her breath finally under control, she stood and strode naked to the small cabana closet. The sudden loss of her warm body next to his brought a feeling of loneliness foreign to him. He longed for her to come back, to wrap her body around his, to ease this growing ache in his chest. In the depths of his mind he could hear her name being repeated, over and over again, a faint whisper—Sadie.
The whisper had been coming more and more in the last few weeks—just her name, just the one word, Sadie.
She tossed him a white terrycloth robe that he caught with a snap of his wrist. She shrugged on a matching robe and came to sit next to his naked frame.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “I presume not to sleep with me.”
He sat up and swung on the robe, covering his nudity as she’d covered hers. “I came to tell you bad news, but this wasn’t the way I planned to deliver it.”
Sadie let out a rueful laugh. “I guess it’s a new take on the phrase, ‘Don’t kill the messenger.’ Sleep with him instead.”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said.
“For what?”
“For not leaving when I saw you naked. For staying when I should have walked away. For letting this happen again.”
Sadie snorted, her gaze fixed on something far away. “Let it go.”
“I can’t, and you know it.”
“Let it go, Ethan.” Sadie ground the words out between clenched teeth.
“You said you loved me.”
Her jaw dropped, realization dawning. Then her gaze hardened and she shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something to me.”
His last statement silenced her. Her jaw clenched and her eyes blinked rapidly, tears forming. Her gaze dropped to her hands in her lap. “Just tell me why you’re here,” she said in a small voice.
Ethan blew out a breath. Maybe avoiding the discussion of what they’d just done was the best. What did he know? Maybe telling her about the problems with his program would be what she needed to get her mind off what she’d just confessed.
Maybe.
He launched into the discussion he’d had with Jack. He watched Sadie as he outlined the detail of the ground contamination, the lack of a parking area, how the program would be stalled for a couple of years. She listened quietly, occasionally interrupting to ask for more detail. When he finished, she let out a long, slow breath.
“I’ll write up a report and go before the board at the end of the month, informing them of the significant delay. I’ll petition to get them to increase the funding for a new amphitheater site, but it will be tough.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ethan said. “I really screwed up here.”
Ethan felt like exploding. “But I did. I got a national program started before I had a venue secured. That’s going to cost the festival, and you’ll take the hit. That was my fault, not yours, but now you’re the one in the bad position. I should have made sure every part of the project was locked in before I submitted that proposal to you.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
Too hard on himself? He’d royally fucked up Sadie’s festival, messed up Cameron and the other kids’ futures, and slept with Sadie—he should be run out of town for all the damage he’d done.
Sadie. Sadie. Her name whispered through his head again, reverberating against the sides of his skull, inescapable. Images of her flashed through his mind, like photographs—Sadie laughing at the bar with Jack, her head tilted back, Sadie in the office, hauling a heavy file box on one shoulder as she pretended to be a weight lifter, Sadie underneath him, her eyes dreamy as they looked into his, so trusting, so loving. The images and her name wouldn’t leave his mind, wouldn’t leave him alone.
He couldn’t let go, couldn’t escape.
Sadie.
Ethan looked at her then, watched her duck her head to hide behind her hair. Too late, however, to keep him from seeing her jaw tremble and her eyes fill with tears.
Goddamn him. Why did he have to go and hurt this woman? Ethan stood up, swept off the robe, and pulled on his pants. He zipped them as he spoke, anger clouding his mind, getting in the way of his words. “This can’t work—” He swept a hand out, indicating the wrinkled bed cover. “We can’t just sleep together and act as if it didn’t happen. You love me, and I can’t ever give you what you deserve—a husband, kids, the works.”
He turned his back to her, but still the image of her face burned into his mind. The voice inside his head wouldn’t shut up—Goddamn it, why wouldn’t it shut up?
Sadie, Sadie, Sadie.
A fleeting memory stirred at the back of his mind, a memory of his mother repeating a word over and over again. Was this how it had started for her? He shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this to you anymore. I can’t be with you, day by day, knowing you love me and not being able to do anything about it.”
When Sadie placed her hand on his arm, he whirled about, facing her. He had to walk away—from her, from the job. He had to.
It was the only way to keep her from being hurt even more.
“I have to quit.”
At his harsh words, Sadie’s chin dropped to her chest, her shoulders caved. He thought he heard her say something, but he turned and walked away, no longer willing to see what devastation he’d brought.
Sadie watched Ethan storm away, nausea churning her stomach. He’d quit. Ethan had quite the Modern Playwrights Festival. Quit the Youth Theater Academy. He’d quit her. He’d even quit Lia.
She watched with eyes clouded by tears as Ethan paused at the corner of the pool. His silhouette was framed by muted pinks and purples of the evening sky. She held her breath, willing him to come back. Instead, he strode forward again, walking out of sight. The she heard the roar of his car and knew he was gone.
She knew Ethan hadn’t quit because of his mistake over the amphitheater site. He’d been disappointed, yes. Disappointed that he’d let her down, let down the festival, and let down the kids who would be too old next year to have a chance.
No, he’d quit because of her, because they’d made love, because she’d stupidly whispered she loved him when she came.
He’d told her he avoided commitment. That he could never be a husband or a father. And she knew why. Because of his mother’s illness and his father’s completely irresponsible reaction to it. She knew by leaving her, Ethan was trying to be honorable—a good guy. In his mind, warped by his dysfunctional childhood existence, he was protecting her from what he thought could happen: being married to someone with severe OCD. Although she hadn’t seen any signs of either obsessive or compulsive behavior in Ethan, she realized it could possibly happen.
After his confession in the office, when he’d told her about his scar, she’d researched the condition. As Ethan had said, OCD could be hereditary, but the literature she read suggested that inheriting it was a remote chance. Besides, even if Ethan were to inherit his mother’s condition, there were now so many more medical treatments out there than had been available when his mother was alive. Just a few years made a huge difference in medical treatment. Medications had been identified that significantly helped, along with therapy. Ethan didn’t need to be bound to the worry that he’d become like his mother.
When she’d tried to talk to Ethan about what she’d read, what she’d learned, he’d shut her out. And now he was shutting her out of his life completely.
Twilight had almost completely taken over the evening sky. She fumbled around for the light switch, hampered by the growing darkness. When she finally flipped it on, the sudden bright light flooding the pool and cabana shocked her, made it all seem real.
And then the crying came.
She’d lost him. She’d lost it all.
Sobs wracked her, taking her over. Waves of self-pity, of desperation, of loss pounded her mind, like a wild surf pounding against the shore. She cried until there were no more tears, nothing left.
After her sobs slowed and trickled away, she pulled herself together and headed toward the house. She crossed the tiled patio in her bare feet and reached for the door handle. Before she could pull the door open, she slipped, falling to her knees.
Overwhelmed, she hunkered there, unable to find the energy or will to move. She kneeled on the cool tile, drawing in several gulping breaths. Finally, with a shuddering sigh, she pulled her head up and caught sight of her reflection in the glass door.
What a mess. She looked beaten—slumped over, shoulders hunched, eyes empty. She hated how she appeared, all cowed and scared. Pitiful. Just pitiful, like a lost puppy in need of being saved. Only this time there was no one left to save her—not a single rescuer in sight. She’d lost it all and had run fresh out of saviors.
“How could Ethan say he believes in me?” she whispered in the dark. This ugly, frightened woman she saw in front of her couldn’t hold a candle to the person Ethan said he saw—what had he called her? Hard working, beautiful, amazing, determined.
Ethan’s words echoed in her mind, rocketing around, waking her. She stood, slowly. Almost as if she were watching a movie, she saw the image of herself reflected in the glass door stand up and unfurl like a flag. She saw her shoulders being thrown back, her chin lifted high. Her eyes stared back at her, bold and strong. The corners of her mouth lifted.
This, she thought, this is the woman Ethan sees when he looks at me. This is Sadie.
The real Sadie, staring back at her in the reflection.
Pride filled her then. And she knew what she had to do.
* * *
When Theo’s fist plowed across Ethan’s nose the second time in nearly as many months, Ethan’s first thought was that this time Theo hadn’t hit like a girl. Through a haze of pain, he watched blood drip onto his carpet, creating a mosaic of spatters on the white wool. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Theo cradling his hand. Ethan gingerly felt along the ridge of his nose to make sure it hadn’t broken. Nope, not broken, but bleeding like all get-out. He grabbed tissues from the box on a nearby bookshelf and pressed a wad of them against his nostril to stem the flow of blood.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Theo snapped out.
“I take it you just saw Sadie,” Ethan mumbled.
“Yep.” Theo glared at him. “I just got back into town and went to see her at The Cottage. She was in the backyard, burying her flat iron and crying.”
Ethan let out an involuntary bark of laughter. At Theo’s glare, he apologized. “I’m sorry—it isn’t funny. It’s just so Sadie.”
“She has always had a flair for the dramatic.” Theo tried to
flex his hand and winced. “I thought about offering to buy her flat iron a tombstone until I realized how serious she was.”
Ethan headed to the kitchen, where he rummaged in his freezer until he located two bags of peas. One he pressed against his nose, the other he handed to Theo for his hand. After awkwardly flipping caps off two beers, Ethan motioned for Theo to follow him outside to the porch swing. Night had fallen. The men sat silently, listening to the raucous cacophony of frogs and crickets.
“How is she?” Ethan asked. Hurt, devastated, in pain, he expected.
“Pissed off.”
A wry smile quirked at the side of his mouth. Theo’s answer shouldn’t have surprised him, knowing Sadie the way he did. The woman had a spine of steel—she just didn’t know it.
“So, bonehead, what happened?”
At Theo’s question, Ethan dropped his head and swore under his breath. “I blew it.” He ran his thumb over the bag of frozen peas. “I let everyone down. I promised something I couldn’t produce, and it’s going to upset a lot of people.”
“Yeah, Sadie told me about the amphitheater problem. That’s a stupid reason to quit. So you messed up—it’s not the end of the world, you know. You’ve messed up before but you’ve never quit anything until now.” Theo stopped speaking.
Ethan looked up from his beer to see his friend staring at him, a look of intense study in Theo’s eyes.
“This has something to do with Sadie, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t hurt her by leaving now if you didn’t think you’d somehow hurt her worse by staying.”
Ethan had acted on impulse, bent only on protecting Sadie. Quitting seemed to be the only way out to him. He would help her find a replacement before he left so the festival wouldn’t go under. If he stayed, Sadie would only end up angry and resentful, just like all the other women who’d fallen for him. Some of them believed him when he said he wouldn’t make a commitment. Others were determined to snare the lone wolf, only to be devastated when reality crashed in.
Forever The One (Meadowview Heat 1; The Meadowview Series 1) Page 15