Love Me Later

by Libby Rice

  Setting his coffee aside, he used his free hand to cup her chin and slowly return her focus to his face. Stroking her silky cheek, he said, “I think telling me will help. And in return, I’ll talk about Rikers.”

  At the last, she started. Her expression didn’t change, but he sensed a ferocious interest in her. She wanted him to unburden himself as well.

  “They said I was lucky,” she began quietly, without preamble. “The bleeding wasn’t terrible and no vital organs were hit.”

  Ethan flinched when she said “vital organs,” reminding him of the gravity of her injuries. While she spoke, he petted her scars in slow, peaceful circles, letting her know he listened, but refusing to interrupt.

  “I missed a semester of school, but recovery went… as anticipated.” Her breath whistled out between pursed lips. “I healed. No infection. I talked to my father on the phone, but I never saw him again after he left me in the hospital. When we went our separate ways about a year after the attack, he handled the logistics via phone, letter, even e-mail. Now I see him on television.”

  She glanced down at his tawny hand moving against the alabaster skin of her abdomen, and a tendon began to tick visibly in her jaw. “I can’t get pregnant,” she blurted, but when his scrutiny jerked to her face, her features were serene, revealing none of the anguish he knew must accompany such a prognosis.

  Surely her situation wasn’t medically insurmountable. He conjured up the names of fertility and reproductive specialists within his many social circles. She was young. Healthy. Deep pockets could give her a baby.

  Despite his hopes, he remained silent, not wanting to undermine her explanation. Instead, he trained his attention on her face—hearing her halting story, no matter how difficult—all the while continuing to stroke gently over the light scars.

  “That’s not true,” she corrected after several moments. “I might be able to get pregnant. I can’t stay pregnant, and alive, which means I have to take precautions.”

  Over the next half-hour, Scarlet told him of the dangers an accidental pregnancy would pose. “Abdominal wounds often lance the kidneys or the liver,” she explained. “Mine bypassed all major organs, so the blood loss wasn’t catastrophic.” She said it like she was lucky. His beautiful girl felt grateful for an in-tact liver.

  “But my female organs were in the direct path of the blade. Both my uterus and an ovary were punctured.”

  He swallowed, already knowing the answer. “Does that mean…?”

  “Debilitating scar tissue. Even if the blockage let sperm reach an egg in my fallopian tube, I’d almost certainly end up with an ectopic pregnancy. Without surgery to remove the fetus, I’d die.”

  Finally understanding that any attempts at conception would risk both her life and the life of her child, he opened up, alarm over what they’d done—twice—overruling any personal demons her injuries invoked.

  “What if the condom had ripped?” He heard the panic in his voice and remembered the blood on her side the night before. “That would violate the number one rule, Scarlet. Remember? No more bleeding, for any reason—”

  “I’m on the pill.” She paused, sounding embarrassed. “Chick reasons. Hormones, you know.” He did. “I haven’t been very active, so to speak, so I’ve never considered getting my tubes tied. I dislike hospitals—really hate surgeries—and that’s not a fun one. But the condom’s only a backup. I’m religious about the pill.”

  And Ethan was religious about condoms. Many a girlfriend had claimed to be careful about the pill over the years, but he’d never left protection to his partner. Not as a young boxer, and definitely not after his bank account had declared him a walking paternity suit. Funny, he trusted Scarlet to protect them both, to be religious about oral contraceptives, but the stakes were high and her health too precious. He’d be as diligent as ever.

  Leaning in, he trailed his hand from the scars on her stomach to the skin between her breasts. Comforted by the steady thud of her heart, he said lightly, “You can get some unique condoms in Europe. Wanna stock up on mint chocolate chip?

  “Tempting,” she said, and he loved that even after the most serious of discussions, she could still see the bright side.

  “Good. While you were out cold, I took a little field trip to the drugstore.” He dew out the sensitive word, hoping Scarlet still felt charitable about his mistake. Perhaps repeatedly acknowledging he’d been an insensitive ass would put her at ease. And save her the trouble of a reminder.

  With a low whistle, Ethan held up a box of condoms from World’s Best and dangled it in front of her nose like a carrot. “Now we can do it like the Danes.”

  ******

  Severe, dominating Ethan equaled sexy as hell. Playful, vulnerable Ethan escalated to utterly irresistible. Charmed, Scarlet tucked the box of condoms away, determined to get the answers he’d promised. “Later we’ll do it like the Danes. Now? You tell me your story. What happened to you, Ethan, after I—”

  His index finger pressed against her lips, halting her words before she could blame herself. “That’s not how I see our past, at least not anymore. Rikers is just another thing that happened in my life, maybe for good reason.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  He leaned in close and licked along her collarbone. “Can I be inside you during the telling?” His palm trailed over her sex to press against her in unhurried pulses that had her legs parting and her hips rising within seconds.

  By all means. “No,” she said on a fatalistic sigh.

  Ethan moved his hand away, though not before allowing his fingers to glide lightly through her sensitized cleft. Without any further sexual advance, he crawled into the bed and pulled the sheet over them.

  “Ron,” he began, snuggling her spine flush against his chest. “He was my public defender. We had a rocky start, but Billboard came through in the end.”

  “Billboard?”

  “He looks like one—the sharp-looking lawyer suspended over the freeway with a question transposed over his face. ‘Hurt in an accident? We can help.’ A total pit bull. He figured out that if I was innocent, and Club Rancor’s security footage showed me backtracking to your car, then it also caught your attacker. After that, life became a game of whack-a-mole. Lots of heads popped up, and Billboard investigated each one before smacking it down. Finally, one last name couldn’t be set aside.”

  Expelling a long breath, he pulled the mass of her hair over her shoulder and away from her face. Then he began a rhythmic stroking from her scalp to the ends of her mused curls. Always touching. At the airport, on the plane, in the hall, in this room… each time, Ethan had initiated some kind of gentle contact. Even when he’d accosted her at Optik two days before, his hands had stroked along the tops of her thighs in a way that brought pleasure, contradicting the fury of his words, his threats. Initially, she’d been sure he merely toyed with her, rather like offering a pet a treat before pulling it away. Now she wondered if perhaps he couldn’t help himself.

  “After the indictment, they moved me to Rikers to await trial since I couldn’t make bail. The island was rough at first, but there are virtues to my background that quickly became… apparent.” The thick biceps and forearms surrounding her tensed, and his chest and abs hardened along her back. She waited, though for what she didn’t know. Finally, the tension drained away into the ether, and he continued. “I handled it. I was made for that kind of thing.” His hand wandered over her waist to the scars on her belly. “You weren’t.”

  Scarlet heard the finality in his last words. “You won’t tell me more, will you?”

  “Nothing to tell.” She felt the tightness coil again, though he never squeezed. A slight tremor in his imposing arms hinted at the restraint he used to keep his reactions confined to his own limbs, rather than letting the pressure bleed into his grip on her. “The hardest part was not knowing whether it would be permanent. Wondering whether life as I knew it, had planned it, had ended.”

  “The dream?”

>   “The guards,” he explained, “locking me behind the bars, taunting me, mostly with the disbelief that my presence in the cell block could be a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry, Ethan.”

  After a pause, “I know.”

  “You never let me tell you that.”

  “I know that, too,” he said, and she understood the low appeal for acceptance in his flat statement. “I couldn’t hear it then. And now I don’t need to.”

  Sensing the cost for him to confront the memories of violence and desolation, she changed the subject. “How did you end up here, at the helm of a technology empire?”

  “I kept boxing after my release, initially for my mom. She’d gotten a job as a food checker during my time in Rikers, but the pay didn’t cover the expenses on the quiet house I’d finally set her up in. She was determined to find a cheaper place, so I hit the clubs hard, looking for the money to make her stay put.”

  Scarlet reached back to tousle his short hair. She got the impression any significant movement would break the spell and end his story. Ethan had mentioned family only once and in a few stilted sentences she’d never forget. When she’d asked where he’d learned to box, he’d said, “Home.” The terse words that followed had told the story of brutal training that hadn’t been about father-son bonding in the garage. In true Ethan-style, he’d “learned to hit back.”

  The mention of his mother told the rest. Scarlet’s accusations had pulled Ethan away from a life devoted to protecting a woman who hadn’t been able to protect herself.

  “You were successful?” She pushed the question past the sawdust coating her throat. “She was able to stay?”

  His nodding chin tapped the top of her head. “I was a big draw, for both fans and other boxers. It turns out spending time in an infamous prison is good for fighting PR, just like rappers and Martha Stewart. The intrigue alone got me fights. My rage ushered in wins. Those successes brought a glut of prize money. I used the appeal of Rikers to rake in cash on the wrong side of the tracks, while I allowed the disgrace of my arrest to dissipate. Playing both hands, I eventually finished an associate’s degree at Kingsborough and then moved on to NYU with a great deal more money at my disposal. Mom never bagged groceries again.”

  He could write the book on the American dream. “You were always going to make it, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He dropped an absent kiss between her shoulder blades. “I started Atavos before we met, but it took off after I’d been an engineer with a small consulting firm for a couple years. Ron was there on the capitalization side. We raised a hell of a lot of seed money in a short time and, ultimately, made a break.”

  I’ll say. “You should be proud. Of everything.”

  The praise went unacknowledged. “You, too.”

  Ethan’s observation came as a surprise. Throughout much of her life, she’d been seen as the lucky one, the girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. “Sure, it’s easy to stay fit when you have a personal trainer.” “Yeah, I’d get good grades, too, if I didn’t have to have a part-time job.” “Must be rough, being born too rich, too thin, and too beautiful.”

  Over the years, she’d succumbed to others’ opinions of her shallow worth as an autonomous individual. Yet maybe, just maybe, they were wrong. She’d overcome adversity to achieve independence. Stood up for herself. Fought for her way of life.

  He’s right. Her lips parted in surprise. Badasses come in all shapes and sizes and backgrounds.

  “Back to you,” he said, his hands beginning to wander ever so slightly as his voice dropped to a low, rumbling pitch. “Tell me about the lingerie.” Quickly, he added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m crazy about it. I’m using your bathroom from here on out. But I’m also curious.” His mouth found a sensitive spot behind her ear, and he licked. Then he blew on the moist strip of skin.

  Scarlet felt her face flame to the roots of her hair. She could explain or let him figure it out on his own because, while she needed to kick the habit of showering en déshabillé, stopping would be like an addict tossing away smack. She doubted she could accomplish the feat cold turkey.

  One of his fingers rubbed over a sensitive nipple, rolling slowly, then pulling. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he reassured, continuing to tongue the spot behind her ear. “Like I said, I like it. Very arousing scenery.”

  She swallowed past a lump in her throat that not even Ethan’s caresses could repress. Spit it out. “The shower,” she began, hoping he would understand her small quests to feel safe. “I wear the lingerie when I bathe.”

  She felt the tension seep back into the bunched muscles bracketing her, but he only said, “That’s okay.” The calm gentleness in his tone began to dissolve years of resistance.

  “I shower in at least a bra and panties, sometimes more. A teddy or a negligee. Only things that soap through, so I get clean, but that also provide some kind of coverage. I know it’s weird, but since the attack, I’ve never gone bare. If caught off guard, I’ve needed at least that protection. An illusion of protection, really, because I know it’s nothing. Silly—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “Never that. You’re scared, and you’ve done what you can to be careful, to feel safe. Have you taken self-defense?”

  She nodded. “My skills are mediocre. And my bathroom is consistently peppered with drying lingerie.”

  “We’ll do more training,” he offered with a surge of his massive body. She could feel his growing erection slide along the seam of her ass. “You can beat on me till you’re a pro.” The drop in octave said he couldn’t wait.

  Scarlet breathed easier after the confession. With a few words of easy acceptance, he’d diffused years of anxiety. “I’ll do that.” She parted her thighs slightly, landing the next thrust of his hips right where she wanted it.

  “Listen,” he groaned, rippling against her in a wave that traveled from her rear to her shoulder blades. “I know you want to get over this… shower thing. But not yet.”

  His cock prodded her through his jeans. “I can’t imagine anything more gorgeous than you, in the shower, the water streaming over lace at your breasts, molding to your ass, sliding between your thighs.” He slipped a hand from her breasts to the pale globes of her rear, eventually inching around to rub slow and hard over her pubic bone. “I have to see it, Scarlet. Now.”

  ******

  Pulling her with him to the bathroom, Ethan went straight for a sheer, sea-green thong and matching bra that had drawn his attention when he’d first seen the display two nights before. No wonder she’d looked so stricken. Unwittingly, he’d stumbled upon her secret and laughed in her face.

  Another mistake.

  The gossamer cups of the bra would be nearly transparent in the shower, showing him both everything and nothing at all. Before, he’d wondered why Scarlet’s bathroom could double as a lingerie shop. Now he simply treated it as one, pulling the filmy confections from her towel bar with shaking fingers. “These,” he breathed. “Stand still for me. Let’s get you dressed.”

  On his knees, he held the panties open at her feet. Rising, he skimmed the lace up over smooth calves, then along sleek thighs that curved in all the right places, barely kissing in the middle. Finally, he smoothed the delicate fabric in place over the sweetest spot in his world.

  With a low sound from the back of his throat, he gave each nipple a rough suck before drawing the band of the bra around her back and slipping her arms through the straps. He snugged the lace over her plump breasts, and then hooked the front clasp before continuing to mouth her hardened nipples through the flimsy barrier. The taste of her fired in his blood, like sipping the finest champagne after waiting eons for the double fermentation.

  Guiding her to the mammoth tub in the corner, he adjusted the temperature and drew the hanging curtain in a full circle to create a steamy haven for exploration. When he pulled it aside, revealing an inviting sliver for them to slip though, Scarlet maintained her stance with an evil little grin.

 
“You have to earn it, Ethan. I don’t wear these”—she splayed her arms wide, showcasing her jaw-dropping getup—“in the bath for just anyone.” Then her voice fell to a softer, more hesitant modulation. “That’s been the whole point. I’ve been alone in there, the rest of the world at bay.”

  Ethan seized. “I know, sweetheart, and it means”—he cleared his throat—“so much, everything, that you’re willing to show me.”

  God help him, he knew where her thoughts headed. Struggling to control his labored breathing, he knelt to trace his fingers from her toes to her navel, dragging the back of his hand across her mound with a good bit of pressure on the ascent. His mouth watered to have her again, but he couldn’t rush her though the doubt written all over her face. “Anything.”

  “Stand up, Ethan. The plane. This morning. You’ve been greedy.” Her lips curved as she pulled him upward by his triceps. Okay, somebody was discovering her inner dominant and far be it from him to discourage.

  “My turn,” she whispered as his ear passed her lips.

  Her words set off warm implosions all over his body. If possible, he grew even harder at the thought of her mouthing his cock. He rarely surrendered complete control over his movements. But Scarlet? She could tie him to the tub and suck him for hours if she wanted. So long as she understood that if he so chose, and he would, the torture would double on the turnabout.

  Nodding simply he let his hands fall to his sides, waiting. Without a word she sank to the woven rug beneath their feet, but she didn’t touch his straining erection. Instead, she kissed around his groin, moving ever closer to and finally finding his unguarded testicles.

  When he was sure he would die from the wait, her small hand encircled his cock. Finally. With a light squeeze—harder, please—her tongue found the head of his penis and flicked. Slow and steady and for long, agonizing minutes. Then, without warning, she engulfed him in the hot slide of her mouth.