A position I’d caught him in once before… when he was just Riske. A small-town visitor with big city dreams… and a chip on his shoulder a mile long. There was a time I would have lived in that chip if he’d let me, but I was grown now, successful on my own.
The days of scraping for scraps to support my family were behind me, and so was Ethan—or so I’d thought. He’d become the success he once vowed he’d be, but at an expense to the boy he’d been. Alone with me, out in the fields of Dayton, Tennessee and under the stars, he painted for me a world in which he would publish talented writers, like myself, and push talent to the forefront of mainstream media.
Now, he was little more than a gratuitous scandal-peddling, publishing magnate, pushing true artists into writing pieces about taking pictures on the newest smartphone instead of discovering places they’d only dreamed about and leaving with better mental pictures instead.
Basically, he was Charlie… only with a Chief Economic Officer placard on his daunting-looking desk.
And I’d despised him. Not just for hurting me once, but twice. For laying with me and lying. For never giving a fuck about me in the first place.
I sipped the martini in my hand, slinking back into the depths of the crowd in hopes of losing Ethan, who I’d seen making his way towards me. I was headed to the back when someone grabbed me, gripping me by both shoulders.
Laney.
“What’s up?” she said, squinting. “You look you’ve seen a ghost.”
“More like a monster.” I lowered the drink. “Ethan is here.”
Her thinly sculpted eyebrows went sky-high. “Seriously. The fucking nerve.”
“Well, it only makes sense,” I sniffed, feeling the oncoming of a headache. “Serena Woods is his client. And he doesn’t know I’m trying to woo her.”
“And I’m sure he doesn’t know about his other two clients you decided to woo.” She smirked. “Or should I say ‘win’?”
I smiled back. “Wasn’t too hard. Ethan…” I shook my head. “Excuse me—Brendon… makes it easy. His position is too high in the clouds to really cater to his clientele. I just let writers know that we’re the real deal, that we won’t hamper their skills… just improve them.”
“And improve them, you have.” Laney reached out. “And right now, the only thing improving is your alcohol tolerance…” She swiped the drink I was draining from my hand. “Slow down a bit. You know you’re a lightweight. Well, at least compared to me.”
I exhaled, rubbing my fingers down my hips. “I know. I haven’t built up my liquor threshold in a while. Dick-of-the-Century, Mr. CEO over there, just makes me forget. I’ve had about three of those since he showed up.”
Laney gaped. “Three?”
I winced. “Yeah… How long will they take to kick in?”
“For me or Elena?” Laney bit her pink lip. “Half an hour to an hour, maybe. For you? I’m guessing… three and half seconds.”
I groaned. “Great.”
Laney led me into the bathroom. And as she guessed, the liquor got to me quickly and I grew drunker with each passing minute, stuck in a stall as I tried my best to sober up, opening the door only to allow Laney to pass me wet paper towels that I applied to my forehead and neck.
I had to get out of there.
I couldn’t allow Serena Woods to see me like this. Unfortunately, the front door was too far away, stuck on the other side of the sophisticated venue. There was no way I was going to get out of there unscathed. But my best friend and secretary was sure trying. One arm under mine to steady my stumbling, she attempted to usher me past the dance floor until a few other equally as drunk attendees made their way over, trying to catch us up in conversation.
Laney was unfortunately accosted by a couple of rowdy book designers and as two of them took all of her attention with their drunky antics and “Ginger” comments, I spun on my feet to find Serena Woods staring at me, a tiny smile on her pretty face.
She started walking towards me, and though I’d managed not to toss my cookies in the bathroom stall, I wasn’t sure I could hold out. The nerves and drinks were getting the best of me. I’d worked damned hard to build my success, only to watch it potentially crumble with a wave of nausea. My head was swimming, my stance was swaying and, to make matters worse, I snuck a peek out of the side of my eye to find Ethan on his way over.
Again.
My only hope was that when I did pass out, maybe I’d hit the floor—hard. I had a feeling I’d soon wish that this night had never happened. But until then, I threw my shoulders back, straightened my spine… and smiled.
Moonstruck
I'm as much my own master as anyone can be, without being the master of others.
- Stuart Woods
KAT
He reached me before her.
My drunken knees went jelly, betraying me when Serena came within twenty feet, and I faltered, reaching out for balance… but before I could think twice, Ethan’s body was underneath of my fingers, the strength of his muscular forearms giving me a sense of security I had no right to feel.
I hated him. Or, I wanted to…
I couldn’t stop the relief from flooding my senses. Ethan fell into my sway, swinging slowly to my stumbling rhythm, and when he placed his arms around my waist, it was only then I’d realized what he’d done…
He was dancing with me.
At least, to the outside eye. Serena, seeing the scene before her, stopped, and in doing so was soon drawn into another conversation. She’d forgotten about me… for the moment.
It was all I needed, what I needed.
Ethan, in all of his bastardized, “bane of my existence” essence, had essentially saved me.
He caught my misguided steps, turning them into poetry, and for the moment, I held him just as tightly as he was clutching me, allowing him to swing my body to a hypnotizing R&B melody, finding myself and simultaneously losing it on the chord of a song too smooth not to soak into. His fingers feathered a familiar touch at my bare back, and instead of pulling away, I fell into it, swinging my hips with surprising sure footing.
Sobriety hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was abruptly aware of everything.
Ethan, especially.
What started as a distraction suddenly felt like a seduction, and in my haze of music and the pure masculinity wrapped around me, I breathed Ethan in, recognizing the smell of him—that nostalgic scent of Columbian coffee, musk and man that, only a few weeks ago, had been covered in smoke.
I peeled my gaze from the floor to stare up at him.
The stairwell. The coat. They had both been bathed in his scent as he defended me from the handsy Harrison Kennedy, and when I sat beside the discarded jacket on the steps, something had called to me from my memory.
I just hadn’t recognized what it was…
Until now.
It was him. Icarus. The myth, the man. My rescuer from the fire.
Tears stung the back of my eyelids, and against my better judgment, I stood on the edge of my tiptoes to touch my lips to his. And that was all it took.
Ethan’s hands, which had enveloped me before, now squeezed, and every breath I had in me was inhaled by his hungry kiss. It made no sense—making out on the dance floor for everyone to see, but I couldn’t stop myself. My heart was swimming in a mixture of emotions—the hate tangling with love and admiration, and I wanted nothing more than to separate out the two with Ethan’s tongue and touch.
I had forgotten how good it was to kiss him—how right. What was it about Ethan Riske that made everything else fall away—the most reserved parts of me, the most secreted away pieces? He brought a violent, visceral side of me to the brink and pushed me beyond it. I wanted nothing more than to devour him—to be devoured.
An animalistic hunger took hold of me, and as his hands traveled through the ends of my tresses and down to my hips, I moaned softly into his mouth, sucking his lower lip inside of mine. He grinned and pulled back and as he did, a tap landed on my shoulde
r, followed by a quiet clearing of the throat.
Red hair was the first thing I saw, and Laney’s oval-shaped eyes peered from behind it, beckoning me—begging.
“Okay,” she whispered, pulling me out of Ethan’s grasp. “What the hell is going on?”
I shook my head. I honestly didn’t know, but Drunk Me knew that she didn’t want it to stop. The sober me, either, but it was an admission too early to put into the universe, so I kept it pocketed away, placing a soft hand on my best friend’s arm. Ethan simply stared, his eyes narrowing at her.
“I will explain, but now I have to get home.” I glanced around. “Before Serena finds me again.”
Laney opened her mouth to reply, but Ethan beat her to the punch. He surprised us with a short “I’ll take her home.”
I gazed back at him—almost as if for the first time, and I saw him as I had seen him in the fire. Strong. Fearless. A walking fantasy with his earth-colored eyes and bronzy blond hair. The waves in his crown had always been wild, and they fought their slickened style, begging to be let free. I wanted to free them with my fingers, forgetting myself in his darkened stare.
Suddenly, an interruption cut my attention into two, as a dark-haired man stepped forward, his green eyes lively as his gaze bounced between all of us… before landing on Laney. He smiled.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Sorry was the last thing he looked, but he kept going. “I’m Griff.” He held out his hand for Laney to shake. “I just came to say something to my best friend, Foxx… but I couldn’t help but overhear.” He looked at me. “If you want to sneak out of here, out of sight—of course…” He shrugged. “It might be best to do so with a person large enough to, uh, hide behind.” His glare shot to Ethan.
Laney got the hint and she looked at me for affirmation, giving me “Are you sure?” eyes. I couldn’t look at Ethan for assurance; I knew if I did, I would fall apart. My sense of self was already shaky, and any more pushes and pulls tonight was going to crumble my confidence. I nodded at Laney. At that, she let Griff guide her away to the bar. With a quick “Call me” motion to her ear and face, she disappeared with Ethan’s handsome friend among the throngs of people on the dance floor, and with a tickle to my palm, Ethan’s fingers slid over mine, bringing me close to his body, which he used to shield me all the way to the door.
Out of it. Onto the street. And into his waiting car.
The valet must have seen the urgency in his eyes because he disappeared quickly when we arrived, returning with Ethan’s car in seconds. The hundred-dollar bill Ethan passed him burned a hole in the young man’s hands, and the money vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
Too tipsy to care about anything with Ethan in my presence, I almost flinched as his large chest brushed mine. He opened my door, closing it as soon as I was inside, and a silence stretched into the air as he climbed into his own seat, securing his safety belt—and mine, before pulling away from the curb.
I rattled off my address, and with a quick few pokes of the built-in GPS, we were heading for the freeway, cruising quietly towards my condominium with nothing but the purr of Ethan’s Porsche to keep us company.
This was nothing like the Corvette, nowhere near as rugged and rough.
The luxury vehicle in which we currently sat was satiny black, stinking of wealth. As I sat within its leather-covered doors, I wondered where the boy I knew had gone, what made him leave and why. Everything about this life, this car, this suit reeked of Brendon Foxx, and yet when I looked at his beautiful profile, strong and sharp, I saw nothing but Riske—rebellious and irreverent Riske, driving undoubtedly into some danger with me at his side. He had lived a life of no regrets, and as his silent partner for one unforgettable summer, I had, too.
Two men lived in the sophisticated suit of Brendon Foxx, and I wondered, for the umpteenth time, which one I had tonight—the businessman or the rule-breaker.
Maybe it was a bit of both…
I was still pondering about the person I had spent the last fifty minutes with when we arrived at my address, Ethan’s black coupe sidling up to the concrete sidewalk outside my silent apartment building. The streetlights cast a blue glow across the front seats, and I faltered for the passenger door, drunker than I’d probably ever been.
The martinis had taken their toll, circulating through my system even as we sped through the Tampa streets. I knew I would wake up with a wicked hangover, and as I started to stagger out of the passenger side, Ethan’s arms magically appeared, stooping to sweep me inside of them. I didn’t resist.
Couldn’t if I wanted to.
Nothing felt more natural than being in Ethan’s arms. Being there fed a need in me that I hadn’t known had been missing. Guilt grabbed at my throat and even through the drunkenness, my subconscious was shredded to pieces.
This was a man I’d set out to ruin just days ago, that I’d plotted against… was still plotting against.
But when he pulled the keys from my open purse and turned the key to my front door, I forgot it all. When he walked from the foyer back towards the bedroom, I remembered what he felt like—his smell, his touch and taste. The feel of his tongue.
This wasn’t my monthly ritual, a pathetic attempt at a date with Mr. Two Strokes…
This was the real deal.
And I knew right now if I slept with Ethan… that everything would be twice what it had been before. Because Ethan was twice the man—literally. Twice as successful. Twice as handsome.
Twice as hard.
And right now that hardness was protruding against my behind, leaving an imprint across my backless dress, across my body, across my libido. Feeling his erection, knowing that I had that effect on him, made my weak-ass knees even weaker and as he set me down on my cool bedroom sheets, I sunk my fingers into his skin.
His body bore the signs of his hard work at fitness, and I fit within his fingers as if I were born to be there. He brushed his digits across my elongated brown bangs as my head hit the pillow, and I knew… I knew, with every fiber of my being, that he couldn’t resist joining me there. My eyes held a plea as I looked up at him through a heavy-lidded glare, and when he gazed down at me in the darkened, moonlit expanse, I expected his kiss—the one that had set me on fire at seventeen and made me temporarily insane tonight, would return.
I closed my eyes, feeling his breath blow gently over my face. My black dress slid further down my shoulders, and I made no move to stop it, letting the sleeves sink to just above my breasts. He inched nearer and I felt every centimeter that he sunk closer, the sound of his steady breathing setting my senses aflame.
I waited…
And then I felt it. Ethan’s lips had fallen to my forehead, landing there lightly, softer than a whisper across my brow, and when they withdrew, I glanced up, only to find myself staring at Ethan’s retreating back, making a beeline out of my bedroom. He shut the door behind him without another word.
And me? I just lay there, immobile, rejection rendering me speechless as I shut my eyes and willed the welling tears to stay at bay—back in the past, where they’d been at seventeen and stayed.
And then my phone buzzed.
Against my better judgment, I grabbed it quickly, checking the screen, scrolling my way to the text messages. I read the first one that appeared.
Laney:
Hey! You wouldn’t believe my night. Griff is amazingggg. More details to come…I’m stopping by tonight. Keep the door open ;)
I groaned, turning over in my bed. Closing my eyelids for God knew how long, I hugged my pillow, squeezing it tight, trying to fall into a frightful sleep, when several hours later—or minutes, who knew, Laney’s knock on the door woke me, jerking me forward. I swung out of bed, padding my way towards the door.
The hardwood beneath my feet was cold to the touch and as I hugged myself amidst the cold A/C in the air, I felt a chill not just on the floor but in my bones. I ignored it, opening the door without a second thought. When I saw who stood beyond my threshold, I re
alized that I needed that second thought.
Ethan was scowling in my doorway. His breath felt hurried, hot, and even from this distance, I could feel it on my face. His harsh expels. His rough intakes. And when he looked at me, it was if he were a wild animal, unleashed from his prison of a cage.
Clothes half-hanging on, his collar undone, he stared at me as if he were incapable of doing anything else. His tie was conspicuously missing, and his cufflinks winked at me from where they dangled, barely attached to his large wrists.
He was unhinged. Literally.
I should have been afraid. I should have turned him away. Instead, I just stood there, staring. I blew out a breath, sighing. “Fuck me.”
Ethan’s brown eyes flashed. “Yes, ma’am.”
He came in… and kicked the door closed behind him.
Heavenly Creatures
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.
- Buddha
RISKE
This wasn’t going to be like the first time. Nothing would.
This was going to be better.
A decade of desire and weeks of brutal banter had only made me hunger for Kat even more, and I was tired of playing games, tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t—a desperate CEO on the path to success, willing to do anything, or anyone, to get his way. That’d never been me. Kat never knew that “me.” At least not then.
But whoever that boy had been… he was back tonight, coming to claim the only woman that had ever mattered—the one that made the scattered versions of him whole again.
Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Page 16