“It’s not that it’s not worth my while, Ethan.”
“I know. Or I hope, anyway. And that’s why my proposition has a second part.”
The nervous thud came back. “Which is?”
“We forget everything else. My business, your business.” He shook his head like he knew I was going to argue. “I know it won’t change reality. I’m still going to wake up in the morning and catch my plane. When I get home, I’ll be doing my damnedest to come up with a way to get you to work with me. You’ll still be doing your damnedest to see that I go straight to hell.”
“That’s the worst sales pitch I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t fuck around, Lu. I want to pretend we never found out that we’re supposed to be enemies. I don’t want to think or talk about work. I want you. Twelve hours. We go in with eyes open, knowing that it ends tomorrow morning.”
“And if I tell you no?” I asked.
“Then me”—he shook the bag in his hands—“and my worldly possessions will spend the night at the airport.”
“You checked out of the Memory Motel?”
“You can’t win big if you don’t take a risk, Lu.”
“Ethan…”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever lost?” I asked.
Surprisingly, his features hardened for a second. “Once. Six years ago.”
“And what happened?”
“A business burned to the ground.”
My heart skipped a worried beat. Not because his words weren’t ominous or intimidating, but because there was a glimpse of pain in his eyes. So instead of scaring me away, his statement made me curious. And even though the no-strings offer was similar to the one he’d made in the bathroom earlier, that hint of hurt pushed me into acceptance.
“Tonight,” I said.
I stepped back to let him in. He eyed the opening between me and the doorframe. Then he reached for me, his strong hands lifting me from the ground while his warm lips drove into mine.
Chapter 10
Ethan
The anticipation of touching her had been killing me. The relief of doing it was a tidal wave.
I slammed the door with a kick, then pushed Mia to the wall. Her curves molded to me while her thighs pressed tight against my hips. I thrust forward, cursing the barrier of material between us.
“Too much fucking fabric,” I muttered.
“Agreed,” she breathed.
My hands slid to the hem of the ridiculously large T-shirt she wore, then yanked it unceremoniously over her head. For a second, I was caught off guard. In a damned good way. She wore nothing under the shirt, and her full, luscious breasts were on immediate display. Her nipples were erect, their full pinkness drawing my gaze. Making me stop and simply stare.
Then she spoke, her voice an ache. “Ethan.”
I answered with my mouth, tipping my head down to give each little rosebud a suck and a roll of my tongue.
“Ethan,” she said again, this time plucking at the lapels of my suit jacket.
Obediently, I shrugged out of the constricting material. The second the jacket hit the ground, Mia’s fingers landed on the buttons of my shirt, tugging them free. I groaned as her hands skidded over my chest. Each touch sent another shot of need through me. My cock was so hard that I thought it might burst through the zipper on its own. And when I dragged a hand from her back to the waistband of her pajama pants and slid it inside—panty-free too, I noted through my lust-filled haze—I found her slick with a need that matched my own.
I slipped my finger into her once. Twice. Then circled her clit with my thumb. She was already quivering. I freed my hand to fumble for the bag I still had slung across the inside of my elbow. By some miracle, I managed to get the box of condoms out, open it, and slide one of the foil packages free.
Mia’s fingers dropped to my pants. They pulled the button from its hole and dragged the zipper down.
I couldn’t contain a throaty growl. “Fuck.”
Her response was accompanied light, sexy laugh. “Yes. Please.”
I didn’t want to rush, but I couldn’t help it. Her words. Her laugh. The feel of her. I had to have it all, right that second.
I tore unceremoniously into the condom wrapper, then lowered the latex toward my waiting, eager cock. I rolled it down, groaning as my own hand slid down my hard self. I’d never been so primed.
I leaned back just enough that I could tug down her pajama pants—down her hips, over her knees, and left hanging from one ankle—then grasped her knee and eased forward again. I tried to hold back. To drag it out. But the second I entered her, I was done for.
Her cries and gasps, and breathy whispers of my name only made me more rabid. I plunged into her again and again, trying to bury myself completely.
I was going to come, fast and hard, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop it. I’d been craving her since the morning—how the hell was it only that long ago?—and now that I had her in my arms, it was too good.
Thankfully, just before I lost complete control, I felt her tighten around me. Her head tilted back, and she cried out a final time, finding her release just as I found mine.
I held her tightly for several moments after, reveling in the shared pulse of our bodies.
Too quick, but still fucking amazing.
I didn’t realize I’d said it aloud until she laughed again, this time throatily. “We’ve got twelve hours. I’m sure we can do it again more slowly at least once. And yes. Amazing.”
Smiling a stupidly sloppy smile, I pulled back and pressed my forehead to hers. “Once? I’m aiming for three or four times. Maybe even in the bed.”
She tipped her mouth to mine for a light kiss. “What? The hallway wall isn’t good enough for you?”
“Don’t get me wrong. It has a certain appeal. But I wouldn’t mind a tour of the rest of the house. And a coffee.”
“Seriously? A post-sex coffee?”
“I’m planning on being up all night.”
She laughed yet again, and I marveled at the fact that she could express so many different levels of pleasure with that tinkling sound.
“Okay,” she said. “How about I show you the kitchen while I put on a pot? I’ll show you the rest of my very tiny house as it brews.”
“I accept your offer,” I replied.
“You should probably put me down first.”
“Right.” I didn’t let her go yet.
“And maybe dispose of the condom,” she added.
“Not a bad idea. You can show me the bathroom before the kitchen.”
I kissed her once more, softly this time, then pulled back and let her slide to the floor. She smiled up at me in a way that made my heart compress unexpectedly. Warmth—the same kind that had seeped in at the restaurant earlier when we’d exchange the silent understanding about her family—crept into my chest and hung there. Pleasant and unnerving at the same time. It grew even stronger when she slipped her hand into mine and pulled me up the hall.
When she pointed me through the bathroom door, I was hit by an even stranger feeling. Regret mixed with relief. I didn’t want to untangle my fingers from hers, but I needed a minute to regroup.
But as I cleaned up, splashed some water on to my face, and stared into the mirror, I couldn’t quite get myself centered. The heat in my chest stayed. Maybe even surged a little again when I let myself take a look around the bathroom and saw the eclectic but stylish décor.
Seashell bath soap and a claw-foot tub.
Black-and-white-tiled floor and vintage pinup girl in a frame over the toilet.
Polka-dot curtain on the tiny window.
Though I didn’t know her well, I got the distinct impression that it was all very, very Mia Diaz. Classic yet quirky. I definitely liked it. But it did nothing to ease the feeling b
etween my ribs.
Absently, I lifted my hand and pressed at the spot where the heat started, then turned back to the mirror. I searched my own face for an explanation, but all I could see was sex-mussed hair and puzzlement. Before I could analyze it much more, Mia’s voice carried through the door.
“You staying in there all night?” she asked.
I forced a light tone as I called back, “Hell, no. I’ve got plans for you.”
“I thought you wanted coffee and house tour.”
“I do. But I don’t see why we can’t start with a tour of the bedroom.”
I flung open the door, prepared to drag a deliberately lascivious look up and down her body. Instead, I stopped short. In the few minutes since she’d left me alone in the bathroom, she’d changed out of the shapeless pajamas and into a baby doll nightie. She’d also freed her hair from its pile on top of her head, and it hung loose and wild in a cascade of red past her shoulders. The exaggerated, lustful look I’d been about to give became a genuine one. If she hadn’t had been holding two mugs, I would’ve scooped her up and given the wall another run for its money.
Clearly reading my mind, Mia shook her head. “Oh, no you don’t.”
I took a step closer. “Oh, I think I do.”
She inched back. “The coffee.”
“Better put it down,” I warned.
Her eyes widened, then flicked back and forth. “There’s nowhere to put it down.”
“The floor.” I took another step.
“I don’t think that’s a good—eep!” The steaming liquid sloshed over the side as she stumbled a little.
“Told you to put it down.”
“I could’ve gotten burned!”
“If you had, I would’ve kissed it better.” I put my arms out and crouched like I was about to pounce.
She bumped into the doorframe at the end of the hall. “Stop. I’m warning you, Ethan!”
“You gonna throw the coffee at me?”
“Possibly.”
“Go for it,” I said. “But I’ve gotta warn you, I’m pretty quick on my feet.”
“What if I’m faster?” she countered, tipping her chin up with a defiance that made me smile.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
I lunged forward, and she lifted the mugs, and for a second, I thought she might actually follow through with her threat. Which was clearly her plan. As I cut short my teasing attack and lifted my arms in an automatic attempt to protect myself, she quickly bent and set down the coffee, then turned and ran.
Laughing and cursing at the same time, I gave chase. Lucky for me, her house really was as tiny as she’d said it was. There was only one direction she could head. And my legs were longer than hers.
She made it around the corner then to the square living room, where I easily caught up. She attempted to face off with me from behind her reclaimed-wood coffee table.
“Come on now,” I said. “All I have to do it step over that thing and I’ve got you. You could at least make it challenging.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Bite me.”
“Get closer, and I just might.”
I moved to make good on my promise of clambering over the table, and she jumped. Literally. Up onto the retro yellow couch, then over it. The flash of leg and ass temporarily rendered me motionless.
You’re going to let yourself lose this little game because of your overactive libido?
The self-directed chiding didn’t stop me from salivating like hungry, cartoon dog. It did, however, spur me to action. After all, it was because of my overactive libido that I had to win.
I launched myself past the couch then through the arched opening where Mia had disappeared. There was a single door on the other side, and it flapped back and forth lightly, making me sure she’d gone inside. I crept across the floor, reached out to grasp the doorknob, then flung the door open, shouting triumphantly at the last second.
“Aha!”
But the room—her bedroom—appeared to be empty. I glanced around, searching for her hiding place. A four-poster bed dominated the center of one wall, a tallboy dresser stood against another, and a freestanding clothes rack blocked the view of a third. Though there was a closet on the fourth wall, it had no doors at all, and instead of housing the usual assortment of pants and shirts, it held a desk, which was covered in jewelry design layouts. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve felt compelled to explore it.
But these aren’t normal circumstances. This is war.
Then, as if to punctuate my thought, something small and hard pinged against my calf. Startled, I glanced down. A foam dart sat in the middle of the Mandala-themed area rug.
“Seriously?” I said.
I narrowed my eyes in search of the weapon’s trajectory.
It’d hit my lower leg. So probably firing from below. My gaze sought the only low point in the room—the space under the bed.
I dropped down, fully expecting to find Mia’s beautiful brown gaze peering out. Instead, I was confronted by a row of boxes. And I no sooner hit the floor than another ping hit me, this time straight in the ass.
“Ouch!”
Her muffled giggle gave away her position. I flopped over and turned my attention toward the clothes rack. Sure enough, her bare feet peeked out from beneath the row of dresses.
I didn’t waste any time. I crawled over the rug, then snaked out a hand and grabbed a hold of her ankle. I gave it a yank, and with a banshee-worthy shriek, she came flying out of the clothes. The plastic dart gun fell from her hands and clattered to the floor. She tried to dive for it, but I still had my fingers clasped around her ankle. Her arms windmilled. Her legs wobbled. And backward she went, her ass landing right on my chest.
For a moment, the room was silent. Then a laugh burst from Mia, forceful enough that her rear bounced temptingly closer.
“Oh, God, that was funny,” she exclaimed.
“You think so?” I replied dryly.
“Yes!”
“You might not think it was so funny if you were aware of my current view.”
“What?”
“I’m conversing with your ass.”
“Oh. Oh!” She scrambled around so that she was straddling me instead.
“Not sure that improved things,” I said.
“Never satisfied, are you?”
“Actually. I was very satisfied just a short bit ago. And I’d like to be satisfied again.”
“Already?” She sounded genuinely surprised.
“I can’t believe you’d doubt my sex drive so easily.” I grinned. “Besides that. Guerilla warfare with a hot redhead is a major turn-on.”
“Pervert.”
“Absolutely. Now come here and kiss me.”
But as she leaned down and pushed her lips to mine, lust wasn’t the dominant feeling. Instead, it was that damned heat in my chest, rolling through me like a summer storm.
* * * *
Mia
The hallway.
My bedroom floor.
The bed itself.
My little bungalow had never been so thoroughly used. The walls had never echoed so loudly. And I’d never been so sex-sore in my life. Clearly, I was out of practice.
I groaned a little and adjusted my body, wriggling closer to Ethan. His hand tightened on my hip.
“Uh-uh, buddy. Back off,” I said. “I’m just using you as a heating pad to ease my aching muscles.”
He chuckled a self-satisfied laugh. “Wore you out, huh?”
“I don’t usually moonlight as a contortionist.”
“Well, shit. There goes my business plan.”
My heart dipped a little at the mention of work, and I had to force myself to answer lightly. “Shhhh. No shop talk. You promised.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Sorry. Ha
bit. I don’t usually have anything else to talk about.”
“Nothing?”
“Certified workaholic.”
I was far more curious than I wanted to be. I knew how dedicated he was to his job. And even though he was planning to use that dedication against me, that didn’t stop it from being an admirable quality.
But now I wondered where it came from. Was it a characteristic he saw modeled in his parents, or was he just born with that inherent drive? Did something else in his life shape him that way? I had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking.
“Politics?” I suggested instead.
“In the bedroom?” Ethan sounded so appalled that I laughed.
“Okay, then. No politics in the bedroom.”
“Definitely not.”
“Do you have a usual post—”
He cut me off. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I replied.
“Don’t say what you were about to say.”
“Postcoital?”
He groaned. “You said it!”
“For a once-an-hour sex guy, that’s awfully prudish,” I pointed out.
“It’s the opposite of prudish. The term postcoital is prudish. If you’d said post-fu—”
“Okay, I get it.” Then a question popped out before I could stop it. “What about the other part?”
“What part?”
“The usual part. What’s normal bedroom talk for you?”
He twirled a finger through my hair. “Are you asking about my other lovers, Mia? That’s very non-one-night-stand-ish.”
I swatted playfully at his chest. “This is a two-night stand now. And no work or politics or ex-lovers? What’s left? Childhood stories and lifelong dreams?”
“All right,” he conceded. “I’ll give you the rundown.”
“A whole rundown? Aren’t there too many to name?”
“Ah. An insult wrapped in a compliment. My favorite kind.” His hand slid to the small of my back and circled pleasantly.
I closed my eyes, enjoying the way his fingers worked out some of my kinked muscles. “Are you saying you aren’t a slutty Casanova?”
He laughed. “Is that the impression I give?”
Until Dawn Page 12