Until Dawn

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  He paused just long enough to say, “Do you want this?”

  “Please,” I replied.

  “Good.”

  With both hands, he shoved my skirt up. And for some reason, that was so much hotter than him pulling it down. Even more lascivious than that, as he eased forward, he didn’t take off my panties. He simply nudged them aside. My legs parted easily. Eagerly. And when he entered me—slowly, carefully, tortuously—it felt like something I’d been waiting for forever rather than just a couple of hours.

  I gasped. Then moaned. Then released a wordless cry.

  He thrust forward. Slowly at first, then with increasing intensity. Every push brought me higher. Every plunge made me tighten around him.

  His hands weren’t still, either. They roamed my body. Smoothed back my hair. Touched my face and lips.

  I’d thought his attentive strokes out by the tree had been satisfying. They were nothing compared to the way he felt now. In and out. Sometimes circling, sometimes slowing for a tease that made me want to swear.

  Then his rhythm changed. Became less controlled. Wilder. And as he slammed against me again and again, I knew why he’d asked for a name. It was something to call out. Something to hold on to and something to be oh-so thankful for.

  “Tell me,” I begged as he rocked back and forth.

  “Tell you what, baby?” he replied without stopping.

  “What to call you. Your name.”

  “Ethan.”

  I said it back. “Ethan.”

  He thrust into me harder. My insides climber higher.

  I said it again. “Ethan.”

  Harder again. Higher still.

  And now his name became a desperate moan. “Ethan.”

  I knew he was close. I was certain I was closer. Any second, I’d come undone around him.

  “Ethan!”

  “Now, baby?”

  “Yes!”

  And just like that—like he’d been holding back, waiting for me to give the word—his pace became almost frantic, his movements a rough jerk. He slammed into me so hard that the bed shuddered—once, twice, and a third time. And as my coil of need exploded, so did he. He pulsed inside me, filling me in a way that seemed more than physical. I could feel every inch of him throbbing with release, perfectly timed with my own. And when at last he eased out of me for a final, regretful time, I couldn’t help but say his name again, this time in a whisper.

  Chapter 4

  Ethan

  I woke in the morning and found the bed empty. A sleepy stretch and a glance around told me the room was equally devoid of company.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  I’d assumed she’d be there in the morning. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that I’d hoped to drag out the one-night stand to something a little longer. After all, I was stuck in Vancouver until Tuesday, and I was pretty much guaranteed to be in a shitty mood after dealing with the owner of Trinkets and Treasures. It’d sure as hell be nice to have something to look forward to. A second look around told me it was wishful thinking. Her bra was gone from the back of the chair, and I took that as sure sign that she really had left.

  With a sigh, I flopped back against the pillow and folded my hands behind my head, half wondering if the night before had been a crazy, jetlag-induced dream of epic proportions. Legs and arms wrapped around me. Hair falling over my face. Running out of condoms and having to improvise with post-sex foreplay, which the redhead had laughingly insisted was some kind of oxymoron.

  Not the redhead, I corrected silently. Lu.

  Remembering that made me smile. It also made me a hundred percent sure I hadn’t dreamed it. Not to be totally crude, but my fantasy-mind would’ve definitely given her a name worthy of a stripper pole.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled, and the residual, mingled scent of sex and Lu’s perfume filled my nose. Desire stirred up immediately.

  Why the hell did she leave?

  Christ, had it been good. For her too. I was sure of it. Not in a cocky, God’s gift to women kinda way. Not even in a no-one-fakes-it-that-well way. I’d seen the look on her face. Felt her come under me. Then on top of me. Finally, against my tongue. Even if that hadn’t been evidence enough, as I’d tucked her body against mine right before we drifted off, she’d murmured a question that made me want laugh a little, but made me ache in a curious way too.

  “Is it supposed to be this amazing?”

  I could still hear her voice saying the words, and I wondered what the answer was. I’d always been a fan of the pizza analogy. When sex was bad, it was still good.

  Last night, though. Shit. It was amazing.

  It made me wish like crazy that I’d had the foresight to ask for her number. Though judging by how quickly and quietly she’d sneaked out, maybe she wouldn’t even have handed it over.

  I sighed again. Then froze as the doorknob rattled with the sound of a key jamming into it. I fixed my eyes on the door. I knew for a fact that I’d stuck the do-not-disturb sign on the handle last night.

  Anticipation made me sit up and swing my legs over the bed just as the door eased open. I wasn’t let down. She backed into the room, one hand on the door, the other gripping a coffee tray and also weighed down by full, plastic bags. Her denim-clad ass greeting me in a way that made my cock twitch, and she filled out the jeans so perfectly that I was actually a little disappointed when she turned around.

  She jumped when she spotted me sitting in the bed. “Oh!”

  “Surprised to find me here?” I teased.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “Well. No more surprised than I was to find you there last night.”

  I smiled. “I can always leave.”

  “Please don’t.” Color crept up her cheeks. “I mean. Unless you have to. Um. I’ve got cinnamon buns.”

  “Now I have to stay.”

  “Good. I have other things too.” She stepped lightly across the room and deposited her armful of stuff onto the dresser. “Wanna see?”

  “I’ll look at anything you like if you give me a cinnamon bun.”

  She pulled an icing-covered treat from a paper bag, freed a cup from the drink tray, and handed both over. “Tall latte. You’re not lactose intolerant?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Two for two. Here’s hoping the rest is a hit, also.” Her fingers closed on one of the plastic bags, then another, then went back to the first again.

  I fought a grin at her nervous flitting. “What’ve you got in those bags? Plans for world domination?”

  “No.”

  “Drugs?”

  “No.”

  “What is it, then, that’s making you make that face?”

  “Clothes.”

  “You say that like it’s a dirty word.”

  “I didn’t want to be too presumptuous.”

  “Clothes are presumptuous?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe? I don’t know. Buying some clothes seems like…”

  “Like a three-month milestone rather than a morning-after thing?” I filled in.

  “Exactly. But—as you may remember—you wrecked my blouse last night.”

  “With my teeth. Can’t say I’m sorry.”

  “Me, neither.”

  “Good.”

  “But when I got up, I realized that my skirt was ripped too. And I didn’t have any shoes. Then I remembered your bag and you saying you’d have to get some new things, and there’s this little shop around the corner that I knew opened early, so…” She shrugged, grabbed one of the bags, and tossed it to me.

  I had to admit that I was genuinely curious about what she’d picked out for me. I made a show of dragging out the items, one at a time. First came a pair of tan, linen pants. Casual and classic.

  “Just my size,” I
said with a wink.

  She blushed. “I might’ve looked inside your other pants for reference.”

  “You look in my pants all you want, honey.”

  “Shut up.”

  I grinned and went back to the bag. Next came a linen dress-shirt in forest green. Not a color I would’ve chosen for myself, but holding it up, I saw the appeal. Mostly because it would complement Lu’s hair. I could easily picture her hair fanned out over it as she leaned her head against my chest. In fact, I didn’t want to just picture it. I wanted it to happen.

  I lifted my eyes to meet her honey-browns. “Hey, Lu? Do you wanna go out with me tonight?”

  She blinked, visibly surprised. “Go out?”

  “Dinner? Movie? A stupidly wet walk in the park?”

  “Really?”

  “Unless you’re ashamed to be seen with me in public,” I teased.

  “No, it’s not that. I just thought…” The seemingly ever-present pinkness under her freckles deepened yet again.

  I reached out to take a hold of her hands, and pulled her so that her knees pressed to mine.

  “If you only wanted one night, and you’d prefer to walk away, that’s fine.” I paused and shook my head. “Actually. That’s a lie. If you walk away, I’ll be sorely disappointed. But since I’m truly not a maniac, I’ll let you go. Then spend the next three days wondering what you’re up to. Thinking about your hands and mouth.” I slid my fingers up her wrists. “About your skin and all these freckles.” I stroked my thumbs back and forth over her forearms. “Wishing like crazy that I had you under me.”

  She sucked in her lower lip, then exhaled. “You can’t have me under you in a public place.”

  “You sure about that?” I dropped my hands to her hips, then slid them to her ass. “I think I damned near did last night.”

  “Well. To be fair. You had just saved me from plummeting to my death.”

  “Ah. So I caught you in a moment of weakness.”

  “Yes.”

  “So if I want another public make-out session…”

  “You’ll have to save me again.”

  I pushed my hands up under her shirt and pressed them to the small of her back. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  “It’s a yes,” she agreed. “But I do have to work today.”

  “What time?”

  “Ten-ish until six-ish. Then I’m all yours.”

  “Perfect. Gives me time to get my shit done.” I grimaced. “Or started, anyway.”

  “Not looking forward to it?” she asked.

  “Anticipating a fight.”

  “Scientific textbook business is pretty cutthroat nowadays, huh?”

  “Sure is. What time is it now, by the way?” I teased.

  “It was a little after nine when I passed by the front desk.”

  I couldn’t cover my surprise. “Shit. Seriously?”

  Lu nodded. “Yes. Do you have somewhere to be at a specific time too?”

  “Not at a specific time, no. But I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed past six-thirty.”

  “I hope it was worth it.”

  “Completely. In fact, it’s a damned shame you have to go.”

  “I know. Especially considering that I also bought these.”

  She wriggled out of my grasp, grabbed another plastic bag from the pile, and tossed it to me. I stuck my hand in and pulled out a box. My mouth curved up.

  “Well, shit, Lu,” I said. “Why didn’t you start with the condoms? Now I’m gonna have to make you late.”

  She started to protest. She said something about only having eleven minutes. Something about staff. I didn’t care. I blocked it all out. And it was easy, because I was so damned busy grabbing her and dragging her back under the covers.

  * * * *

  Mia

  The euphoric afterglow of sex showed zero signs of leaving anytime soon. In the half hour since Ethan and I had parted ways, I’d had to try so hard to not smile like a fool that I was giving myself a headache. And my assistant store manager, Chloe, had asked me twice if I was sick. Because I was late, she’d said. And I was never late. And because I looked a little feverish too, she’d added. Her observations had made me laugh. And of course, my giggles had worsened her concern. She’d actually put the back of her hand on my forehead. I’d just laughed harder. And I decided it was probably better for me do some office work rather than stick around the store itself.

  But once I’d jimmied my way through my broken door, called an electrician about my lighting issue, and contacted the tech guru up the street to put in a request for a new cell phone and a laptop emergency, I was left a little lost. Thoughts of Ethan kept sneaking in. As I dragged out my latest design plans—done on good, old-fashioned paper, thank goodness—I couldn’t stop myself from picturing his hands running over my jewelry. And that wasn’t a euphemism for anything naughty. Genuinely curious as to what he might think of what I did for a living, I was literally thinking about how the delicate items might look in his hands.

  My business was my heart and soul. The one thing I could lose myself in. Where I could be myself. Designing unique products, making them by hand, customizing items…it was all a labor of love. And I knew from experience that finding something that was both joyous and genuine was uncommon. One part passion, one part luck, and a whole lotta need to prove myself had got me to where I was. Respected in the tight-knit business. Making a profit that surpassed what I’d hoped for. I didn’t brag about it. I also knew from experience that the rug could be ripped out from under me. But for some reason, I really wished I’d invited Ethan in to have a look at my life’s work.

  So why’d you insist on being dropped off on the corner?

  The thought gave me pause. I wouldn’t have consciously called it insistence. But now my mind backtracked, going over the morning to see if there was any merit to the descriptive label.

  After booking another night at the Memory Motel, we’d decided to walk together back toward my shop. I was already late anyway, and the rain from the night before had eased off, and the air was cool and fresh. His fingers gripped mine like it was something we did every day, and we made plans to find an out-of-the-way place for a late dinner. When we’d reached the corner by the big oak tree—our tree, Ethan had called it—we’d paused to laugh at the fact that my shoes were just visible from below. Then we’d started to walk again. And I’d been the one to stop. My heart had fluttered with a little stab of anxiety, but I’d attributed it to a moment of self-doubt. I’d brushed it off easy enough too. It wasn’t like I owed anyone an explanation. I really didn’t need to excuse my desire to indulge in a physical encounter with a totally hot guy. I was single. Twenty-seven. A business owner. And fully in charge of my own future.

  But that was the moment that I’d made the suggestion of separating. But it wasn’t insistence. Ethan hadn’t protested against leaving me at the corner. Just asked if I was sure.

  But what if he had argued? I wondered.

  Would I have let him follow me back to Trinkets and Treasures? I’d built the store from nothing. Against noisy objections that it was a risky move. Even my family, who were supportive of everything I did, had questioned my decision. But I’d proved them wrong. Shown that I was capable. I ran my business with cool efficiency. My staff liked me and respected me. And the woman I was when I was at work, she was nothing like the woman who’d gone to bed with Ethan last night. The former thought everything through. The latter, well, she climbed out windows and kissed strangers, didn’t she? It wouldn’t be good for the two worlds to crash into each other.

  I pictured how it would go.

  In all likelihood, I would have to introduce him to my assistant manager. She was friendly. But curious. So I would’ve looked for a way out. Probably by bringing him upstairs to show him my designs. And the designs would’ve turned
out to be a pretense to get him alone. Because what I’d really want was for him to take my face in his hands and kiss me. To lift me to the desk. Unbutton my jeans. Slide his hand inside. Make me quake with need all over again. I could practically feel his fingers already, stroking me and making my pulse rise. Blood rushed through me, and a little gasp escaped my mouth right before the jingle of the entrance bell downstairs jerked me out of the fantasy.

  I blinked and sucked in a much-needed breath. Clearly, a single night with Ethan had turned me from a reasonable woman into a slathering, sex-starved fool. So it was probably a good thing that he’d just given me a kiss, a devilish smile, and a promise to meet me back in the same spot again in eight hours. The last thing I needed was to turn my office into a sex den.

  “A sex den, Mia?” I muttered aloud. “Is that even a thing?”

  “Uh, Mia?” My assistant manager’s voice carried through the slightly ajar door.

  I cursed my imagination for blocking out her approaching footsteps. Had she heard me say “sex den”? God, I hoped not.

  “Mia?” she said again.

  I cleared my throat and shuffled the papers on my desk. “I’m here. Come in.”

  The door creaked, and Chloe stepped through. Concern filled her face immediately.

  “Are you okay? Seriously.”

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Your face is redder than a sunset.”

  “It’s warm up here,” I lied.

  “I think you might have a fever,” she replied.

  “I don’t get sick, Chloe. You know that.”

  She crossed her arms and gave me another once-over. “Well. Something’s not right. And as your favorite employee, I feel a need to tell you that it worries me.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. I usually valued Chloe’s sharp eye and her honesty. It was one of the reasons I’d hired her, then immediately promoted her. But she generally had her scrutiny focused on customers, sales, and the store. Not on me.

  Because you always make sure you’re above scrutiny. Like you should be now.

  I cleared my throat again. “Did you come up here just to check on me, or…”