Until Dawn

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

A moment after I figured it out, a warm hand slipped into mine, and Ethan’s rumble filled my ear. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get out of here before your brother sees me mostly naked.”

  I didn’t argue. I let him pull me away from the group and out into the hall, then to the stairwell. We raced down the steps, pausing at the bottom to catch our breath. Only when we stopped, the wind went out of me completely. Because while Ethan was mostly naked, he’d somehow managed to grab his shirt and pants. The latter hung over his arm. But he’d slipped the former back on, and now it hung open. His chest and abs were on display, still covered in light sweat that trailed down the V to his low-hanging underwear.

  God.

  I was sure I’d never seen anything sexier in my life. And just like that, the animalistic urges that had been building since the second he undid his tie—or maybe since the second his hands landed on me outside, if I was being honest—took over in an explosion of need.

  I launched myself at him. And clearly he wasn’t expecting the amorous assault. He stumbled into the wall behind him and pressed his hands back to stabilize himself.

  Perfect, I thought.

  It left him exposed.

  I dropped to my knees and pressed my mouth to his bare stomach.

  “Lu, what’re you—shit. Yes. Lu. God, please—Lu, I—” His words cut off into a mumble as my tongue flicked along the elastic of his underwear.

  I reveled in his lack of ability to speak coherently.

  My hands came to his knees, then slid up to his thighs. His muscles were tense under the attention, the thrum of his pulse palpable under my palms. I didn’t want to rush, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I brought my fingers to the bottom of his boxer briefs and tugged. He groaned as his rigid manhood sprung free. I was sure I let out a moan too.

  My own need pulsed through me with increasing intensity. And as I parted my lips to take him in, my knees spread on the ground, welcoming the throb.

  I widened my mouth and drew him in even farther, both for his pleasure and mine. And he was definitely enjoying it. Each breath was a hiss or growl. His body bucking lightly against me with each suck. And a few moments later, his hands gripped my hair. I loved the way they held so tightly, like they were the only thing that kept him from going over the edge.

  But I wanted him to go over the edge.

  And I did. So badly. I wanted to possess him. To give him this and to take it from him at the same time. My sexy, dark-eyed stranger. My phony exotic dancer. My Ethan.

  Mine.

  The word circled through my mind, feeling so right that it almost hurt.

  Mine, and I needed to prove it.

  I sped up my attention, deepening it as if I could devour the length of him.

  He dropped a curse, and another incoherent mumble, and then my name. “Hell. Shit. If you don’t—I’m going to—Lu. Oh, God, Lu. Mia. Please, just…ah.”

  I didn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  His fingers moved through my hair with desperation. I knew he was close. So close. My own body was unbelievably near as well. Unconsciously, my hips rocked back and forth in time with my sucking, though they met only air. And as much I enjoyed the way Ethan throbbed in my mouth, it was a shoddy surrogate for the need between my thighs.

  And then he spoke, giving me my out.

  “Touch yourself, Lu,” he groaned. “Please.”

  I obeyed. I slipped one of my hands down to my thigh, then up under my dress. I pushed aside my panties, and I thrust my fingers to my clit. Pure, autoerotic pleasure shot through me. I ground against my own hand and sucked Ethan impossibly deeper into my mouth.

  And I couldn’t hold on. Not for a heartbeat more.

  I moaned over the length of him as I found my release.

  And moaned harder when he cried out my name and found his at the same moment.

  Chapter 16

  Ethan

  As the last wave of satisfaction rolled from me, my fist unfurled and I sagged weakly against the concrete wall. The world came back into focus slowly. The first thing I realized was that Mia was still on her knees in front of me, her hand invisible under her dress. It was sexy as hell. But I wanted her close. Summoning what little strength she’d left me, I dragged her up and crushed her against my chest. I drew in a deep breath, noting that she smelled like sex and honey.

  Perfection.

  I hugged her tighter, wishing I could come up with an appropriate string of articulate sentences to express the way the explosion of warmth between my ribs made me feel. But I couldn’t think of damned thing, so I just settled for pressing my hands to the small of her back.

  “Ethan?” she said.

  “Sorry.” I loosened my hold. “Not trying to squish you.”

  She laughed against my bare skin. “You’re not. Well. Not in a bad way. I just wanted to ask you something.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Your place or mine?”

  “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

  “I know. But it was such a good idea that I stole it.”

  I grinned into her hair. “All right, my little thief. I just so happen to have a room at the Memory Motel. But I also have some fond memories of your house, so…”

  She wriggled against me, then placed a warm trail of kisses up my collarbone before pulling away to look up at me. “The motel’s closer.”

  “In a hurry?” I teased.

  “Definitely not.” She blushed as she said it, then quickly added. “But two hours is going to go fast.”

  My heart lurched unpleasantly. “Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m rationing those hundred and twenty minutes.”

  “Rationing them how?”

  “For starters, I’m splitting the time into four, thirty-minute sessions,” I said. “And each time a thirty-minute session ends, if you decide to stick around, I’m not counting that.”

  Her expression was a mixture of amusement and amazement. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. This is all on-the-fly shit. And while we’re at it, I’m not counting any time we spend around other people. So if we’re in a group like we just were, anything that happens for next twenty minutes or so is void.”

  “Void? You’re calling what just happened void?”

  I lifted a finger to trace the pink stain of her cheeks. “No. I call that fucking amazing. But if I’m only getting two hours, then you can be damned sure I want to use them wisely.”

  She leaned in to my touch. “So what do we do now?”

  “Think you can get out of supervising the rest of the party?” I asked.

  “My brother has a key to lock up. And I’m sure Liv would love to be the boss,” she replied.

  “Good. That means I can take you to the Memory Motel and get my first thirty-minute interval. After which, you can stay or go as you please.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  I kissed her nose. “Oh, you’re so very welcome. Should we get a cab?”

  She gave my waist a squeeze. “How about you put on your pants, I take off my heels, and we take a shortcut on foot?”

  “There’s very little I’d like more than that.”

  I reluctantly let her go, and scooped my pants from the ground. As she bent too to slip out of her heels, I caught a glimpse of the smile on her face. It was small. Satisfied. Completely pleased. And there was something about it that made me sure I wasn’t supposed to see it. Like she was smiling to herself about some closely guarded secret.

  I wanted to ask her to turn the smile my way. To tell me what was going through her head that made her glow like that, and to ask if it had anything to do with me. I hoped like crazy that it did. By the time I’d finished buttoning and zipping, though, the little smile w
as gone. There was another in its place, but wasn’t anywhere near the same.

  I resisted an urge to ask her why, and instead extended my arm. “You ready?”

  “I don’t think anything could make me quite ready for Mr. Brock Hard,” she teased.

  I pulled her in for another kiss, then led her out of the stairwell, through the lobby, and out into the cool evening. It wasn’t raining, but dampness permeated the air, and I thought it might start up again soon. The thought didn’t seem quite so unpleasant with my and Mia’s fingers threaded together. Hell. I might even like walking through a downpour with her. I glanced at the sky, almost hoping to see clouds.

  Mia bumped my shoulder, drawing my attention back to the earth.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?” she said. “That almost-rain smell.”

  I inhaled again. “It’s not bad.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I do. I just didn’t know it until I smelled it here with you.”

  “For a big, bad businessman, you say some pretty sappy things.”

  “Well. The two things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.” I squeezed her hand. “You’re a business owner too. Don’t you have the odd sappy moment?”

  “I learned not to be sappy a long time ago.” She pulled her fingers away, then looked down like she was surprised to see that she’d let go.

  “You wanna tell me about it?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Not yet.”

  We reached the end of the first block then, and Mia paused to look back at the building we’d abandoned.

  “Worried they’re going to miss you up there?” I asked.

  “Worried? Not really. I mean, I probably shouldn’t have abandoned my hostess duties. But Marc and Aysia will be all over each other and might not even notice. If they do, they’ll just assume I ducked out early, and I’m sure Liv wouldn’t be thrilled to hear I ran off with a ‘stripper,’ but then again…” She pressed her palm back into mine and starting walking again, tugging me along. “She’s the one who dared me to kiss you in the first place, so tough luck for her.”

  “Not me,” I reminded her. “Some random, incredibly hot guy.”

  “Don’t let your ego get the better of you. I had just fallen from a tree.”

  “How’d you get roped into that, anyway?”

  “The tree?”

  “No. The dare.”

  “Oh. You probably don’t want to know.”

  “I kinda do, actually. Or. We could go back to discussing what led to your de-sappiness.” Part of me hoped she’d actually deflect to the last thing.

  “Fine. But if you really want to hear it, I have to tell you about my childhood.” She said it like it was supposed to be a threat, but I was immediately eager to hear every detail.

  “Good,” I replied. “Tell me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Well. We moved around a lot because my dad was just starting out in property development, and he liked to be close to whatever he was overseeing. My brother is a couple of years older than I am, and he was always really good at making friends. He had the whole small talk thing mastered from, like, birth, and every time we went somewhere new, he’d be like the shiny new toy.”

  “I think you’re pretty shiny yourself,” I interjected.

  “I was a freckle-covered, redheaded brace face,” she informed me. “And don’t you dare say I was probably adorable, or I’ll drag you down to California to go through my mom’s photo albums.”

  “Is that an option?”

  “Do you want to hear the story?”

  “Desperately.”

  She rolled her eyes and went on. “Anyway. Marcelo was always the cool new kid, so I needed to find a way to keep up, and the one thing I had going for me was that I was pretty much fearless. I already knew I was awkward and kind of nerdy, so what did I have to lose by being a little crazy too?

  “And out of this, the dare was born,” I filled in.

  “Exactly. Marcelo was always happy to play along, because I’d do whatever he told me to. I became a part of his party tricks. But when we got older, I got more reckless. I did some dangerous things, and my brother went away to college…” She shrugged. “Let’s just say that ages sixteen through twenty weren’t my finest hours.”

  She sounded ashamed, and my heart hurt at the thought that she was living with some cloud of regret hanging over her. I stopped walking and pulled her around to face me.

  “We make lots of bad decisions when we’re young,” I said. “Then we grow up and pass that torch on to the next generation. I’m sure as hell not the same man I was ten years ago.”

  “I know. But I’m not talking about a tattoo I wish I hadn’t gotten, I—” She cut herself off, and her eyes dropped to her hands before she took a breath and added, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It obviously does matter, honey,” I argued gently. “Whatever it is—or was—you can tell me. I’m not going to judge you for it.”

  There was something close to anguish in her eyes as she answered. “Here’s the whole trust thing again, Ethan. The things that happened didn’t just shape me, they ruined other people’s lives too.”

  “Okay,” I conceded. “Take whatever time you need. When you get there, I’ll be waiting.”

  She looked up at me, hope overtaking the sorrow, and I made a silent promise to make sure I was worthy of that hope.

  * * * *

  Mia

  I stared down at Ethan’s stubble-dusted jaw for another long moment, then glanced at my phone to check the time. It was nearly ten a.m., and it was Thursday. I had a couple more hours until I had to go to work.

  But…Thursday.

  I bit my lip.

  I’d really, really meant to go home on Monday after the allotted thirty minutes was up. Really. Even if just to prove that I could. But Ethan had successfully turned more than a few parts of me—my legs, my brain, and pretty much anything between my belly button and my knees, for example—to jelly. So even if I’d truly wanted to, I might not have been capable.

  And how does that explain how Monday became Tuesday and Tuesday became Wednesday and Wednesday became now?

  It didn’t. There wasn’t much of an excuse other than that I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Of course, I did go somewhere else. To work. Then back to the motel. And home to get some clothes. And back to the motel again. Where Ethan told me I didn’t need clothes. And showed me that he was right. The whole time, he claimed that he’d only used up a single half-hour interval too.

  Sneaky bastard.

  I sighed, smiled, and dropped my eyes to the even rise and fall of Ethan’s chest.

  He’d been nothing but kind and patient for the last few days. He’d abided by my request to steer clear of Trinkets and Treasures. He hadn’t complained that my usual “weekend” was spent working in exchange for the actual weekend off for the wedding. He’d kept silent while I dealt with last-minute bridesmaid duties over the phone, and hadn’t asked again about my so-called de-sappiness.

  But there was more than that. He was attentive. Insatiable. Thoughtful. So incredibly warm and sexy and all things good.

  And the conversation was as fantastic as the sex. And that was really saying something.

  I liked talking to him. Listening to him too. There were no awkward pauses or uncomfortable moments. At even the hint of lag, Ethan would make me laugh. Or kiss me. Or both.

  He’d told me all about his business, not holding back about the number of smaller companies he’d pulled under his umbrella. It was as interesting as it was impressive.

  But what I’d enjoyed more was hearing the personal things, like his childhood. I’d loved learning about it. His face was animated when he talked about the tiny apartment in Toronto where he spent his early years, describing in detail
the horrors of no air-conditioning in the summer and unreliable heat in the winter. Growing up in a lower-class neighborhood—the only son of a struggling mechanic and a chronically ill mother—had given him a deep appreciation of hardship. He’d explained that part of what spurred him to work so hard to achieve his goals was never wanting to have to worry about money again. But he never had gotten around to telling me about the other things that inspired him to do what he did.

  I frowned, remembering that I’d asked. He’d easily diverted the conversation. First to tell me an anecdote about an impromptu snow day, then to ask about my college years. I hadn’t really noticed at the time, but thinking about it now, he’d also changed the subject when I asked if his family still lived in Toronto. It made me wonder.

  Did he do it on purpose?

  I dragged my eyes up from his chest to his face. Was there something he was holding back? I had a nagging suspicion that there might be. But what?

  Like you have any right to complain, I said to myself.

  I was still keeping my own secret tightly under wraps. Although it was admittedly getting harder to do. I actually wanted to let it all out. To throw my usual caution aside and leave myself vulnerable. Maybe it would even spur him to divulge whatever it was that he was keeping hidden.

  Assuming there is something.

  But as I studied his features—already familiar, already capable of making me smile just by existing—the belief that he was covering something up grew stronger. I didn’t do hunches. And it was impossible to get to know someone completely in mere days. My parents had told me and Marcelo plenty of times that they were always discovering new things about each other, and they’d been married for three decades. Yet something in my gut told me I was right. And as crazy as it seemed, I did feel like I knew Ethan well enough to wade through the hints and draw the conclusion.

  “Are you watching me sleep?” His voice made me jump.

  I cleared my throat. “Uh…”

  One of his eyes opened, and it was full of amusement. “Don’t worry. I can admit that I’ve done the same thing to you a few times.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. But try not to look so horrified. You only drool a tiny bit.”