In the Raw

by Eileen Griffin

  I felt his smile against my lips before his body finally relaxed against me. Regardless of what Claire had said, this was right. This was where he was supposed to be. I cupped his jaw tighter and fused my mouth over his in a crushing kiss. His hands slid into my hair, holding me tightly to him. My fingers slipped from his face and slid down his body until I found the hem of his shirt. The instant they slipped underneath the fabric, I knew it wasn’t enough. I needed to feel his body against mine.

  His fingers tugged at the waistband of my jeans when we heard someone clearing her throat behind us. We broke the kiss, panting against each other’s lips, but I kept my hands firmly locked around Jamie’s hips.

  “I don’t know whether to hug you both or kick your asses since you seem to delight in giving me an ulcer at the ripe old age of twenty-one.”

  Jamie tried to untangle himself from my embrace, but I kept him flush against my body as I turned toward my sister. “Perfect timing as always, little sister. And I’m sure you’ll get a chance to both hug and kick our asses as soon as we’re done here. So, do you mind? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

  Jamie turned bright red when Claire’s face sported a huge grin. She closed the door and walked over to us, smacking me on the back of the head and kissing Jamie on the side of his. She waggled her finger in our faces. “No sex on the sofa. I like to sit there when I watch TV. And no ass prints on anything. That includes countertops, tables, the floor...”

  Jamie groaned and hid his face in my neck. God, I loved my sister. I laughed and saluted her with my free hand. “Aye aye, Captain. No ass prints on any surfaces. However, have you seen Lassiter’s ass? I’m betting it would make some smokin’-hot ass prints.”

  Jamie burrowed even deeper against my neck and mumbled something along the lines of, “For the love of God, please make it stop.” I kissed the side of his head and laughed harder. What I wouldn’t give for a rewind button to replay all of this on days when I needed a good laugh.

  Claire crossed the apartment to her bedroom, shooting us a look over her shoulder. “No ass prints or I’m making you clean the entire apartment. And I know how much you love to clean, E. Have fun, boys.” She headed into her room and shut the door. A few seconds later, loud music began blaring through the walls.

  Jamie finally peered up from my neck and burst into uncontrollable laughter. I grabbed his hand and began leading him back toward my room. “I guess that’s our cue to be as loud as we want to be.”

  The look on Jamie’s face betrayed how much he wanted that to be true as he tugged on my hand and practically dragged me the rest of the way across the apartment.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jamie

  Two weeks later, I sat in Ethan and Claire’s apartment, my fingers tangled with Ethan’s. I focused on Ethan’s mouth as he sprawled on the couch. As distracting as he was, I tried my hardest to listen to him read through the final draft of our presentation for our communications class that afternoon.

  “Jesus, when I read this out loud, do I sound like a self-righteous douche to you? Or is it just me?”

  My low chuckle got a raised eyebrow in response. He looked up at me, totally serious as only Ethan could be wearing boxers and nothing else.

  Since the weekend I had skipped out on the family dinner with my parents, I’d only gone back to my condo to grab clothes, each time expecting new locks. Each time my key still worked, I wondered what my parents were waiting for, but I pushed it out of my mind. I’d rather spend my time with Ethan. Their place felt more like home than my cold condo had. Thank God both he and Claire had invited me to stay there until I got back on my feet.

  “Jamie?”

  I blinked and focused on his face instead of where my eyes had wandered down his abs and lower. Speaking of welcomes. Hello, happy trail. “Yeah?”

  “I just proposed a group orgy in my apartment with select members of our Comm class, and you nodded.”

  I grinned innocently and trailed the fingers on my free hand over the abs I was admiring. My grin widened at the shiver that ran through his body. “Who was on the guest list again?”

  He closed his eyes and shoved the papers aside. “I’ve decided it’s going to be an orgy of two. I’m very picky about who I let into my apartment.”

  His eyes opened and he smiled lazily when I lay down alongside him on the couch. His arms instantly wrapped around my torso, pulling me closer until my head rested under his chin. I turned my face to gently kiss his warm skin and was rewarded by a deep, rumbling sigh. Angry Ethan was attractive when he wasn’t driving up my blood pressure. Horny Ethan? Ridiculously sexy, especially when he was trying to remove our clothes as quickly as humanly possible. Handsy Ethan, who was quiet and mellow like this? My weakness.

  “As much as I’ve loved staying here, I need to start looking for a new place to live.”

  “Any luck on the job hunt this week?” Ethan looked away when he asked. He hated asking. I could tell. But it was a regular routine for me now: go to school; help Ethan out with the pastry techniques he hated so much; circle the Help Wanted ads and follow up with promising leads with either a call or going by in person; and cooking dinner for an exhausted Claire and Ethan at the end of particularly brutal days. Ethan had put in a word for me with Kitterick, but I’d have to wait for something permanent to open up there if I wanted to bank any kind of decent money for an apartment of my own.

  “I found a few places who need busboys. One that told me to come by next week because they might have a waiter position open, but otherwise, the job hunting sucks. But I’m going to try again this weekend.”

  He leaned back to stare at me. His eyebrows knit together in a thoughtful expression as he trailed his fingers lightly over my collarbones. “You know you can stay here as long as you need to.” He paused and added, “Have you talked to your parents at all?”

  Ethan hadn’t asked me until now. He cherished his personal space and allowed both me and Claire to have ours, as well. I knew he cared enough to let me tell him in my own time and way.

  I shifted my weight onto my elbow to mirror him. “My mom called once but I let it go to voice mail. All the message said was for me to call so we could talk. Until they apologize, that’s not happening. I haven’t heard from my dad, but I hadn’t expected to.” I leaned closer to him, sighing against his neck. “I still need to get the rest of my stuff out.”

  His body tensed against mine. “Claire and I don’t mind you being here, so you don’t have to rush to find anything. Unless you want to.”

  I chuckled and tilted my face to his, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “Thanks, but we both know I can’t stay here forever. But this, being here with you and Claire, is the closest I’ve ever experienced to seeing what a real family is like. So thank you.”

  Ethan didn’t say a word. Instead he rubbed circles over the small of my back.

  “You probably think that’s stupid, huh?” I couldn’t meet his eyes when I asked the question.

  “No, I think it’s shitty your parents never appreciated their son.” He slipped his hand into my jeans and curled his hand around my hip to drag my body closer to him. “It wasn’t always this way for me and Claire. Times were tough when my dad checked out. My mom was hardly home after my dad left because she was working all the time. But I had Claire. She kept me from going crazy most days.”

  I tilted my face toward his and smiled. Ethan might be a major pain in the ass sometimes, but he was fiercely loyal to those he loved. “At least you two had each other. My parents traveled, so I was alone a lot. Unless you count the nannies and the house staff. And maybe I would have been okay with that if I’d been able to choose what I wanted. But every day, every activity, every school, every class was mapped out for me.”

  Ethan slipped his other hand to the back of my neck, kneading the muscles with his fin
gers as I sighed with pleasure. “I know it sounds whiny. Poor rich kid crying about not getting what he wanted, right? But when I was younger I wanted to take art right after I’d gone away to prep school, which had to get approval from our parents for our course schedules. I was devastated to find out my chosen elective had been changed to finance for beginners. I was the only thirteen-year-old in a class of juniors and seniors. No one would talk to a kid when they had people their own age to hang out with.”

  His hand in my hair tightened slightly then relaxed. “You never told me you were an emo art kid. That’s kinda hot. Please tell me you had a beret.” He snickered.

  I laughed too. “Oh, I never was an emo art kid. Well, I might have been emo, just not particularly artistic. Stick figures are my forte. Trust me. I guess I wanted the chance to make my own choices. My true love was always food. I begged the kitchen staff at the school to sneak me in while they were prepping our meals late at night for the next day. They’d let me help out making garnishes and washing dishes. That’s how I figured out I wanted to be a chef. I found the one place I finally felt at home and they didn’t care I was some lonely rich kid.”

  “Prep school, huh? For some reason imagining you in the sweater set and tie thing is hot.” He grinned, the humor not quite reaching his eyes.

  “Itchy polyester sweaters and ties. Trust me, I’m glad you and I don’t come from the same world. You’re nothing like the people I grew up with. That’s a good thing.”

  His eyes ran over my face as he quietly contemplated me before replying. “Something like that.” He cleared his throat and nudged my shoulder. “We probably should get going if we want to make it to school in time for our presentation. If you still want to ride together, that is.”

  I reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of his body. “Of course we’re going together. You’d ditch class and make me give the entire thing by myself if I didn’t keep an eye on you. Just promise me you won’t say fuck during our presentation today and we should get a decent grade.”

  He dragged me back for a kiss, murmuring against my lips, “I’d rather you kept a hand on me at all times. Preferably both of them. And I promise nothing. I’m thinking a few well-placed f-bombs might score us some bonus points.”

  I laughed and smacked his wandering hand away. If he touched me, I’d be lost to how good his body felt against mine and we’d never make it to class. Never one to be late in my life, I’d already begun to lapse into Ethan’s routine of getting there with seconds to spare. I should have cared, but spending those last few private moments with him always seemed to win out over my guilty conscience.

  I took a moment to watch him stretch, distracted by the way the muscles along his shoulders moved as he gathered the paperwork and graphs. Without turning around, he snorted. “I can tell you’re checking me out. We’ve got thirty minutes before we need to leave. Maybe work out some of our pre-presentation nerves?”

  If it was anyone besides Ethan I would have thrown something at him. Instead, I kissed the back of his neck before walking away. I knew if I actually allowed my lips to do what they wanted, we’d be locked in his apartment for much longer than thirty minutes.

  “You’re going to make me talk during the presentation, aren’t you?”

  I chuckled and continued into his bedroom to get dressed.

  “You’re evil, Lassiter,” he called out.

  “And you love it, Martin.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jamie

  When we finally found a parking space outside the building that housed the culinary department, Ethan leaned over and gently placed his hand on my shoulder, startling me out of thoughts of where I was going to find the money to pay for everything I needed. “You ready to kick ass and take names with the grand opening of our restaurant?”

  He shot me the barest hint of a cocky grin. “Always. Let’s do this.”

  He grabbed my hand once we got out of the car and I pushed all thoughts of jobs and tuition payments out of my head. The clusterfuck of my financial problems had waited for this long; it could wait another two hours until we were finished with our presentation.

  Finally seated in the Comm classroom, Ethan bounced his knee as I looked over our notes. We would present second to last, which gave him plenty of time to let all his nervous energy flow. When I reached over to squeeze his knee, he sighed and slowed his leg slightly. He shifted his hand to cover mine as we watched our classmates at the front of the lecture hall.

  When the last group before ours finished, the class applauded politely as they took their seats. I turned to Ethan to make sure he wasn’t going to bolt and whispered, “You ready for this?”

  “Wow them with your mad skills, Golden Boy. I need a good grade in this class if I want to stay in the number one spot.”

  My mouth opened with a snarky comeback when Professor Flannigan called out our names as he loaded our PowerPoint file.

  Ethan clicked the mouse and our fictional restaurant filled the screen. The stock photo we’d chosen for our sidewalk-style café was rustic and warm. The exterior had wooden doors with retractable glass panels that could be opened when the Seattle weather cooperated.

  The only good thing about growing up as a Lassiter was that it had taught me about schmoozing an audience. I put on my best smile and pointed at the screen behind me.

  “Bistro 30. Our concept is a farm-to-table idea where we buy from as many suppliers and growers within a thirty-mile radius of Seattle as possible. Our immediate area is rich in local farmers’ markets, fresh seafood, ranchers who specialize in hormone-free and free-range livestock, as well as an abundance of local breweries, wineries and bakeries. It seems a travesty not to tap those resources when creating a dining experience for our guests.”

  I tilted my head at Ethan, who brought up the next slide of the interior of our restaurant.

  “We’re going for a rustic feel for our bistro, but also an Old World charm. A place where the guests don’t feel rushed or hurried into having to give up their table for the next group coming in the door. Instead, we want a place where diners can relax. That’s why we chose the warm and soothing wood tones. We want a place where they can celebrate good food and company.”

  Ethan cued up the next slide with a chalkboard and our mock menu on it:

  Soup: Carrot Ginger Soup

  Salad: Arugula Spinach Salad w/ Bleu Cheese and Pecans

  Seafood Main Dish: Mussels with White Wine and Garlic Sauce

  Meat Main Dish: Braised Pork with Apple Compote

  Side Dish: Marinated Grilled Asparagus

  Dessert: Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

  “This is an example of our rotating weekly menu, which would capitalize on the seasonal fare Seattle and its surrounding regions have to offer. We’d have a staple menu for everyday fare, but we would also include fruits, vegetables and meats in season.”

  I nodded my head at Ethan for the next PowerPoint slide, freezing as I stared at the words on the slide: Marketing. Investors. Money. Of which I had none because my parents had decided having a gay son was worse than no son.

  Ethan gently tugged me out of the way, taking over my spot in the center of the platform. My eyes met his and he smiled briefly before turning to face the class.

  “Like any business venture you need a fuckload—I mean a huge capital investment to even think about startup costs. Our plan would include...”

  I winced at the f-bomb, hoping Flannigan hadn’t noticed, and when Ethan continued on I watched, preoccupied. My mind drifted as he detailed our marketing plan, both from an investment perspective and from a marketing and advertising perspective. Before it hadn’t seemed like a big deal. Go to investors. Ask for money. Open a restaurant. Simple.

  Now that I had nothing to my name, the whole plan for the future seemed daunting. I hadn’t lied to Ethan
. I had a sense of excitement in knowing I had full control over my decisions from here on out. But I was also scared senseless. Ethan and Claire had been awesome to let me stay with them, but I needed a place of my own. I needed a job. I needed a plan.

  As Ethan brought our presentation to a close, I realized if I was going to make any of my dreams a reality, I couldn’t wait any longer to check into financial aid. I’d put it off for two weeks already.

  The applause from the class brought my attention back to Ethan and the project. I closed our file and made my way off the platform. He followed close behind me until we were seated in the back row, his leg bouncing faster than it had been before we’d gone up.

  I reached over and snagged his hand, resting it on top of his knee. He kept bouncing his knee as he looked back at me. “Did I sound douchey? You can tell me. And how much do you think Flannigan will take off for the two f-bombs I dropped?”

  I laughed and squeezed his hand. “No, you didn’t sound douchey. My guess is Flannigan may actually give you extra credit for limiting yourself to only two f-bombs.”

  He smirked and tightened his fingers in mine, his leg slowing down a bit while we watched Reed’s partner, Stacey, approach the platform. She nodded to Professor Flannigan and pulled up their presentation. Ethan leaned over to me and whispered, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happier when he’s not around, but isn’t Stacey missing a partner? Where’s Reed?”

  There were whispers and conversations all around the classroom. Stacey waited onstage for everyone to quiet down, then looked at Flannigan again, who had turned in his seat to face the class. “Alright everyone. Settle down. Mr. Jackson has chosen to forego participating in today’s presentation. I need everyone to give Ms. Kinsey your undivided attention.” Flannigan nodded at the screen. “Please continue with your presentation.”