by S. L. Scott
“That happy, huh?”
Moving my hand to her ankle, I slide it farther when she doesn’t move away. “Mistakes and paying the price.”
I look her way when her hand matches my movements on my leg. We’re both still, our gazes steady on each other. The bubbles are starting to dissipate, and I can’t take my eyes off her. Wrapping my hands around both her ankles, I tug gently causing her to slide down just a little. It takes her by surprise and she bursts out in a laugh. “You better not, Everest. Paybacks are hell.”
I tug a bit more, her mouth going under as her arms fly out to grab hold of the edge. I don’t give her time and pull all the way. She disappears under as the water and the remaining bubbles drain over the edge. When she pops up, I have her on my legs. Her mouth opens wide, matching her eyes. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you just did that.”
Twisting to the left, her hand misses my arm and hits the water, splashing some onto her face. She huffs and splashes as she scoots back. I’m too busy laughing to care about getting wet. I’m in a bath for fuck’s sake. I kind of expected to get wet. But my laughing ignites her temper.
Singer Davis fired up is a sight to see. Her eyes blaze with passion that she tries to restrain, to hide from the world when it’s what should always be seen.
“I’m going to get you, Everest. When you least expect it.” Her threats are wrapped in laughter, but then something comes over her, maybe the realization that our bodies are exposed if we look through the crystal waters.
She slides through the water and rests her arms on the side facing out the window. The tub is too large. It could fit four people, but I wish it were smaller. I wish it was like the one I grew up with where our bodies would be wrangled together and my arms would be wrapped around her, holding her close.
I test the waters of her emotions and touch her back, letting my fingers run down her spine. She glances over at me but returns her attention to the city outside.
It’s not a view I take the time to appreciate often, but when I attempt to now, the beauty before it eclipses it in every way. “The view is stunning.”
She continues to stare out the window, her gaze lost in the distance. “It is, isn’t it?”
“I’m not referring to the city.” Seemingly caught off guard, she looks at me. “Yes, you. You’re very beautiful.” She looks down and all I want her to do is look up. “Something is wrong with the world that you don’t feel it, that you don’t feel beautiful on the inside. Why is that?”
“You can have any woman you want, Ethan, but somehow I’ve been caught in your web. You’re making my head spin, but my heart already feels like it’s held captive.”
“I will never hurt you.”
“I can’t think clearly around you. I shouldn’t tell you this. Being upfront with you so early into . . . us, but I’m not good at hiding my feelings.” Oh. This time she comes closer. Her breasts full and weighted even in the water though her breath floats to the surface of her lips—heavy.
“You don’t have to hide your feelings with me.”
“You ask me why I don’t see things the way you do—”
“No. I asked why you don’t see yourself the way I do.”
The smallest of smiles appears, but it’s there. The tips of her nails walk across my thighs and higher over my stomach. Her legs are brought around until she’s straddling me. She’s farther back than I’d like, but I need to find patience in the moment. She continues and says, “You treat me as if I were you, but I don’t have the same power you carry into a room.”
“You do. You’re just not paying attention. You don’t need the daiquiri douches or the Chump.”
“What power do I have, Ethan?”
“Can’t you see the power you have over me?”
Moving of her own accord, our bodies entangle in dangerously sexual territory. “If I have these so-called powers over you, why didn’t you kiss me that Sunday after the pub or when we said goodnight at my place?”
“I kissed you last night. I kissed you tonight.”
“You claimed me, Ethan. There’s a difference.”
Her words are a sucker punch to my heart. She’s right, but I’m the asshole being called out on it, and it makes me feel like shit. “True. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want it to be real.”
I thought I was wearing my heart on my sleeve. I wasn’t. Not really. Not like she is now. She exposes herself in ways I used to before I was burned for doing the same. I don’t want to be the one she remembers burning her. “It is real. It was, for me, but it was also a mistake I made, something I shouldn’t have done in front of people.”
“Why? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me in public?”
In public.
She’s got it all wrong. So wrong. My breath comes harsher when I gently take her by the waist and confess what I know I should hold back. “Never.” She starts to slip away but my grip tightens, holding her in place. “God, no. I would kiss you all the time if you were mine—in public, in private, inside, outside, and all over your body shamelessly.”
“But you just said—”
“I’ve been betrayed before. I’m dealing with shit from my past, so I have trust issues, and as much as I want to get to know you, I can only let you in so far right now.” I stare into her eyes, wondering how far I can go, how far I can open up. Do I mention the case?
Her hands flatten on my chest, and she leans down putting her cheek against mine. Whispering, she says, “I see how you struggle, how you carry the weight of life on your shoulders. I’m not here to cause trouble or damage you in any way. Keep your secrets if that helps ease your mind, but know”—she lifts up to look into my eyes—“I will never betray your trust.”
My hand covers her right one. “I know you won’t. Let’s just take things slow if we can.”
“By slow, you mean not being in a tub naked together?” The corners of her pretty lips tilt into a smile.
“Not that slow. Will you stay the night?”
“I’ll stay.”
Fuck, she’s amazing. I reach up and grab her by the back of the head, my other arm wrapping across her shoulders to spin her under me. With her body pressed to mine underwater, I kiss her lips as laughter escapes.
I want to fuck her so badly, a craving that consumes me daily. She’s naked beneath me, and I can’t have her. The torture batters my soul.
Her fingers weave into my hair, and she pulls me to her. “I want you, Ethan.”
Dollar signs don’t shine in her eyes. I see nothing but sincerity. “I want you, Singer.” Is she worth taking a risk again? Opening myself up to being used? Would she do that? I kiss her cheek and then lean my head against the same spot. Her skin is so soft, her hands so gentle.
I drop my head to her shoulder. I was prey to Dariya. What am I to Singer? I trust her. I do. Maybe it’s wrong, but my heart is beating, pounding to be with this woman. I feel like me for the first time in forever. She accepts me for who I am with no expectations of more. Do I tell her? Do I expose my vulnerabilities and open myself to possible hurt? Do I kiss her and risk bursting the bubble that protects us, protects this moment and the innocence that created it? For Singer, I do. “Leaving that fire escape, walking away from you that day was the biggest mistake I’ve made in years.”
“Why did you leave? Why did you leave me for her?”
I lower my gaze, feeling shame rolling through me. I look toward the window. “I don’t know. It was like the moment passed us by, this bubble that surrounded us popped in an instant.”
“It didn’t for me.”
Looking over at her, I say, “You had enough hope for both us back then, but I lost faith.”
She’s not embarrassed or shy, but confident as she sits on my lap and takes my face in her hands. “We don’t have to change the world in one night.”
Sitting up, I settle her where I want her to be. She sucks in a quick breath. “One night with you will change me.”
“You make a convincing argument. I always thought you’d be more reserved when it came to sex.”
“There’s something about you I trust.”
I laugh. “I’m probably the last one you should trust. Haven’t you heard?”
“No, I haven’t heard. Why can’t I search your name online? What will I find, Ethan?”
“Lies.” I look away. “Some truths. Some lies.”
“Don’t shut down on me. Please. I’m here,” she says sitting up, her perfect breasts fully above water for the first time, one of her hands tapping gently on my chest. The location warms over my heart, and the beat in my chest is strong. “There’s no hiding when we’re like this. You think this connection we feel is only physical. Physical attraction may be the reason you kissed me, but it was in here that we bonded. Don’t discredit us. Don’t treat me like you treat some woman hanging on your every word at a bar. I’ve kept my distance for so long in hopes that when the time was right, we would have another moment and it wouldn’t evaporate into thin air. So stop trying to end us before we even begin.”
I want to believe her so badly. In an ideal world, this would be easy. I’d kiss her. We’d date. We’d fuck. Make love. Go out for dinner. Stay in and watch movies. Normal dating stuff. But I don’t live in an ideal world. I touch her cheek and look into her eyes. “You’re too beautiful to be dragged into so much ugly.”
When her fingers wrap around my wrist, she says, “What if I come willingly?”
“Then you’re a fool.”
“Then call me foolish because I’m taking my chances.” She leans down, her nipples brushing against my chest, and she kisses me.
And then I kiss her right back.
16
Ethan
Lips that taste this good should be forbidden. We leave the water behind, and I wrap her in a towel. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, she shivers, so I kiss her until she’s heated and a sinful pink creeps over her chest. Her body gives her mind away. Wicked words from her mouth may elude me but her body exposes her lustful thoughts. I scoop her up to a delighted squeal and carry her into the bedroom.
Just before I set her down, I ask, “What do you want, Singer?”
“What do you want?” She bites her lip and waits as if I’d ever turn her away.
“You.”
She kisses me, but I have plans, plans that involve her body molding to mine as we fuck. I kiss her quick, eager to get to the action by tossing her on the bed and capturing her towel.
“Ethan?” Her protest leads to laughter as she lands.
She is naked before me, and the game I was playing no longer interests me. She does. My muscles tense. My cock hardens. My heart clenches as my gaze roams her body. In awe of her beauty, my body stills as I stare. She’s my Aphrodite. Goddess of Beauty. “All’s fair,” I mumble, trying to pretend she doesn’t affect me like she does—deep down to my core.
I strip my towel from my waist and turn to toss both behind me.
“I like the view.” She slinks under the covers, shyness with a bold smile on her face.
I don’t stare, though seeing a flash of her naked body makes me want more. “Touché, Ms. Davis.”
“Will you get in bed with me?”
Her need to hide away bothers me. Does she really not know how stunning she is? How is that possible? How is she even single? She’s witty and clever, gorgeous and perceptive. Her body is killer. Her eyes captivate my soul.
When I climb into bed, we lie there, sticking to our sides. Glancing over, Singer’s gaze reaches the window and she stares out into the inky night. The room is dark, the windows of the skyscrapers outside lit up like little stars. When she turns back, a small smile appears.
This is what I’ve been missing. I knew it a year ago and ignored this deep desire. Now it courses through my veins. She courses through my soul. I care. I care about this woman. It threatens the firm foundation of my usually steady life, but I welcome it. I welcome the change. Before I lose myself in a confessional of commitments I shouldn’t make to this beauty, I ask, “Do you like strawberries?”
“I do. I also like pretzels,” she says, reaching to the nightstand where I had left a bag from my earlier excursion to the kitchen. “You don’t mind crumbs, do you?”
“I do,” I say, getting up to grab the champagne from the bathroom. “But not from you. Pretzel away.”
She crunches, and I would normally cringe, but when I return she’s so cute eating them I can’t be mad. After sipping the champagne I hand her, she asks, “Why did you bring me here, Ethan? To champs and pretzels, to show off your fancy-schmancy tub and apartment? Or maybe”—she leans forward when I sit and taps the end of my nose—“you have something more scandalous in mind?”
“I have enough scandal in my life. How about I go with the other options?” Settling against the headboard, silence surrounds us. She discards the bag and turns to me, her fingers touching my chest as if she does it all the time.
A strange emotion fills my chest from seeing her in my bed. I’ve imagined her here so many times, but it all pales to actually having her here. Her presence lights up the whole room. Possessive. That’s how I feel, and it’s something I’ve not been allowed to act on until now.
Sliding down, I maneuver my arm under her. Her body molds to mine, her arm over my stomach, and one of her legs draped over mine. Whispering, she asks, “What are we doing?”
“Such a loaded question.” I run my fingers over the smooth skin of her back.
“I like this.”
“This?”
“All of it. Tonight. You. You being here.”
The tips of her fingers stroke my neck and higher until her palm warms my cheek. “I like being here. I like this with you.” Checking the time over my shoulder, she says, “It’s almost eleven.”
“Are you tired?”
“I usually go to bed around this time.” Looking up at me, she smiles. There’s no fear in her eyes, no hesitation to be found. There’s nothing but a green light for go.
Running my hand over her hip, I marvel how the very act is more intimate because she’s trusting. She’s so trusting with me, in me.
“We haven’t eaten a strawberry, and you went all the way across the palace grounds to get them. That was quite a trek to set this all up.”
“Very funny.” I chuckle, but quickly grab hold of her hand and roll on top of her. I wiggle, and her legs part for me, allowing me to settle between them. My hard against her soft. Kissing her quick, I say, “I think you’re right. I think we should eat strawberries.”
I reach for one as I hover over her. When I turn back, my breath escapes in a harsh release. She stuns me in this moment, her beauty wrapping me up in twisted feelings that started in my gut and have taken my heart hostage. This isn’t as casual as I’ve led her to believe. This means something, more than I kidded myself to believe. But tonight feels too good. She feels so good. I take a risk that feels like a dare, daring myself to take what I want.
I’ve been with women, plenty of them, but Singer is . . . she’s different and there’s no denying this means so much more than a quick fuck or a one-night stand. Nicolina thinks I love her. Do I?
Exhaling slowly, I know I need to get out of my head and back to what’s right in front of me instead of thinking through everything. Touching the berry to her skin, she sucks in a breath. I smile, and in a low voice I remind her, “Breathe, Singer.”
Her nipples are pert under the sheet, causing my breath to match hers. Why am I nervous? I’m never nervous. I’m always in control. I am in control now. I blow across her skin where the juice glistens. The strawberry moves slick, dipping in and following the contours of her collarbone. My eyes meet hers before I lower and touch my tongue to her, licking the sweetness from her skin.
Her hips move against my cock, and I press right back. I want to sink inside her, forgetting who I am and the life I’ve created. I want a redo
with this woman. I deserve it, just like I deserve the truth to unchain me.
I’ve lost touch with that guy Singer met a year ago. The one who knew who he was and where his life was going, the one who saw a beautiful and intriguing woman and tried to kiss her on a fire escape. But when she looks at me, I see him reflected in her eyes. I can almost feel him inside me under her gaze. She makes me want to be that man for her. God, I want be that man for her.
I want to be that man again for me.
The taste of her skin is sticky sweet, and intoxicating, a flavor that will linger long after she’s gone. I toss the strawberry back into the bowl and start to devour her instead. I’d love to give her slow and steady, but not this time. Not possible the first time with this woman.
The woman tempts my body to do dirty things. My soul gravitates to her blind trust in me. The press openly talks about the bad boy I’m supposed to be, and her shy, vulnerable side definitely attracts that side. With Singer, I want to take what I want instead of asking. She brings out the devil in me.
Taking a deliciously pink nipple between my lips, I move my hand to the curve of her waist. My middle moves against her, her legs widening for me in a welcoming embrace. I’m so close to fucking her, even though I know I shouldn’t. I know she shouldn’t be here at all.
Lust.
Easy.
Betrayal.
My demise.
I close my eyes, squeezing them tight.
Fuck the past.
Focus on the present.
Nails graze against my scalp, and fingers caress my jaw, lifting it up. Looking up, even in the low light of the room, her eyes make me want to be everything for her. “Be here, Ethan. Stay right here with me.” How does she know I need those words to bring me back?
She sees through me.
I think she always did.
Moving higher, I keep my body against hers and brush my fingertips over her cheek before kissing those red lips. Lowering my hand, I rub the inside of her thigh. Goose bumps rise under my fingers, her reactions an aphrodisiac, feeding my cravings for her.
Magnificence.