by Claire Adams
I climbed out of the shower to find that Margie had left a pile of big, fluffy towels for me. I wrapped one around my wet hair and the other around my body and went in search of my clothes. That's when I ran right into Ethan, standing in the doorway of my dressing room, holding my jeans and tee-shirt on a hanger.
"I believe these belong to you," he said, flashing that incredible smile.
"Thanks," I said curtly and swiped the hanger from him quickly with a long reach of my arm, not wanting to get too close to him. Then, with my eyes cast down at the floor, I continued softly, "Thanks for what you did today. I would have been fired if it hadn't been for your help."
"The great job today was all you; I just helped you get past your own head and into the emotion of the bike. That's what sells motorcycles: the feeling riders get from being out in the open air. I knew you could convey that all-American feeling of being free with your natural beauty and easy smile—you just needed to relax enough to do it."
"Well, thank you. I wasn't sure I'd still have a job after what had happened..." I didn't need to finish the sentence. We both knew I was talking about the scene at my apartment.
"I wasn't sure you'd still show up for the job, but I'm really glad you did. I needed to know that you were alright."
"Of course, I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"
"It seemed like you two were having a pretty intense argument. I was worried he might be hurting you, and when I came in, he had his hands on you. Does he ever get physically abusive with you?"
"How can you ask me that? Mick and I are in love. He would never hurt me, and if I recall, you were the barbarian who started punching people and ripped our door apart."
I expected Ethan to at least apologize for that, but he didn't. Nothing but a long silence filled the air between us until he finally broke it. He took my hand in his and gently rubbed the back of it with his thumb. When his eyes stared intently into mine, I felt as if they were penetrated through to my very soul.
In a voice that was quiet, and yet powerfully strong, he said to me "You don't have to put up with less than you deserve. I'll protect you and provide for you. I can satisfy your every need, even the desires you don't even know you have yet. Let me be the one to take care of you."
My heart melted in that moment, my knees quivered, and I felt a wave a dizziness wash over me, but I shook it off and forced myself to stand strong. What was this dream I was being offered by this incredible man?
Mick had seemed like a dream when I'd first met him, too, and the waking reality turned out to be far more disappointing, but he was my fiancé, and didn't that mean I owed him my loyalty even if he was far from perfect?
I pulled my hand back and said, "I have a boyfriend. He'll take care of me."
"That's not being a boyfriend, and that's not taking care of someone. Call me when you see the truth; anytime, anywhere, I'll be there for you."
Ethan pulled a card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, scribbled his personal cell number on the back, and handed it to me. Then he exited the room with a swift bow, leaving me standing there, wrapped in nothing but a towel and feeling stunned.
I put on my clothes mechanically and took the long bus ride home, but I was still in a daze as I walked up the steps to our apartment.
Ethan was so sexy, intelligent, and interesting. I felt a real connection when I was with him, and that afternoon we sat talking under the oak tree was the first time I'd really felt happy in a long time. He had listened to what I had to say, and I could tell he really wanted to get know me as a person. He made me feel beautiful, not as a sex object to be used, but as a human being. I wanted more of it. Plus, he cared enough about me to want to protect me and take care of me.
Mick had never made me feel that way. All he made me feel was like he wanted to get everything from me that he could, even if that meant compromising who I was as a person. I was an object to be used by him and nothing more.
I knew it was time for Mick and me to have a long talk, but as I walked through our apartment door, what I saw changed everything in an instant and broke me from my dazed trance.
"Samantha? Mick? What's going on?" They weren't in the act of making love, but it was clear they had been. Mick was pulling up his jeans and closing the zipper, his shirt still off. My best friend was dressed in nothing but her panties and bra as she pulled her black mini-dress over her head.
"This isn't what it looks like," Mick cried out lamely, while Samantha broke into sobs.
"I'm so sorry, Kayla. It just happened," she wept. "We were celebrating his new job at the club. We had a few drinks and one thing led to another. We didn't mean for it to happen."
"Just get out," I glared at my former best friend with eyes like blades of ice. Samantha picked up her shoes and ran out the door, not yet even fully dressed as I threw her jacket (the one I'd given her for her birthday) out onto the sidewalk.
Then, I turned my anguish on Mick. "How could you do this to me? I get plenty of offers to cheat on you. In fact, I had one just today, but I turned it down out of loyalty to you."
"This was nothing more than a stupid mistake. I love you, baby. I'm really sorry. It will never happen again." He was chasing me around the living room on his knees as I tried to keep a distance between us. I didn't want the disgusting asshole anywhere near me.
"How many times?"
"None. I love you, and I can't wait to marry you. Hey, did you get paid for that modeling job? Let me have the money. We'll go down to the courthouse first thing and get married."
Instinctively, I reached for my purse, ready to hand over my hard-earned money to him just like I'd done these past three years we'd been living in L.A., but my fingers landed on the card from Ethan first and it stopped me.
What was I doing? Mick was cheater and a liar. Now he wanted the money that I had earned, and I was about to give it to him. I had been supporting him all these years while he did nothing but drink, watch television, and cheat on me. Thank God we weren't actually married yet, and thank God I'd finally seen the truth about him.
"Goodbye, Mick," I stated simply, then I turned on my heel and walked out the door. He called after me, but he couldn't be bothered to actually come running after me, and by the time I'd rounded the block, I couldn't hear him anymore. I got on my cell phone and heard Ethan's voice pick up on the other end.
"Can you come get me?" I asked meekly. Just like I knew he would, he answered me with one simple word.
"Yes."
Chapter Nine: Ethan
"Fucking idiot," I berated myself as I drove down the L.A. streets in my Lamborghini.
I had obsessing over Karly Brandt since the moment I first set eyes on her during her audition. I'd fought Keith and the board on the decision to hire such an inexperienced model, but I was so passionate she was the one I wanted they had to relent. I had called her personally to come to my office, and when she accepted the job, I had Angela cancel all my appointments for the day so I could teach her how to ride myself.
It had been a magical day, and even though we hadn't had sex or even kissed, I felt a connection with her that was so strong, it was almost physical. She understood the real me and I could open up to her in ways I'd never done with any other woman. When she told me about her life, I was mesmerized. I wanted to know every detail and could listen to talk for hours and still want to learn more.
Plus, she was sexy as hell. The beauty of her face, the sparkle of her eyes, the way her tiny, narrow waist curved into a perfectly round buttocks, and most all, those incredible tits.
She worked for me as a contracted model. It wasn't even permanent employment, just a one-time job. I couldn't even say we were friends or that she even liked me. Chances were I would never see her again.
So what did I do? I took the last moment I would ever see her to completely alienate her. I'd barely gotten over the hump of having punched out her boyfriend and gotten her to at least talk to me again. Then, I turned right around and insult him again so she
loyally takes his side and once again wants nothing to do with me. Stupid fucking idiot: that's what I was.
I could have played nice, pretended like I wanted to take the two of them out for dinner to apologize, and gotten to get to know her more over time. I could have offered to take her out to celebrate as platonic friends. I could have even offered her another modeling job. I could have done anything but I what I did.
Now, she was certain to throw away my number the moment I got home and that would be the end of anything that may have developed between us. Seeing her image on the cover and pages of my magazine as the only way I would ever see Kayla again.
I gripped the wheel of my car hard as I steered through the hills, wishing I could escape my own stupidity. When my phone rang through my Bluetooth, I almost ignored it, but then my sense of responsibility won out and I answered it.
"Can you come get me?" The voice was Kayla's.
"Yes," was all I could say and immediately flipped a U-turn with my car, causing several cars behind me to slam on their brakes, honking furiously.
I raced through the streets at top speeds until I found the bar she told me she was waiting at. I saw her standing out front, looking incredible in a simple pair of jeans and a pink tee-shirt. Her blonde hair had dried in the warm California air and now lay in soft waves down to her shoulders, and her face was fresh and free of any make-up.
"Get in." I smiled as pulled to stop right in front of her and opened the passenger door.
"Thanks for picking me up. I didn't know who else to call, and your card was right there on top of my wallet."
"That's okay. I told you I would take care of you anytime, anyplace. I just never dared to hope you would call so quickly, but I'm glad you did. Are you okay?"
"I caught Mick cheating on me with my best friend," she said in clipped words. It was clear she didn't want to talk about yet, so I let her sit in silence as we drove to my mansion in Beverly Hills, letting her process all that had just happened to her.
I wanted to press her for details, and make sure that son-of-a-bitch hadn't put his hands on her, but I knew what it was like to want privacy. She'd tell me everything that happened when she was ready, if she wanted to. The best thing I could do was just to be there for her when it happened and give her space until then.
I pulled up the gate that led to my estate and Kayla gasped in awe at the grandeur of my mansion and the sprawling garden with an Italian fountain that stood before it. I parked my car in the garage and guided her into the house through that entrance.
"Welcome to my home." I smiled as I let her in.
"This place is amazing. It's enormous and so beautiful. I'm afraid to touch anything," Kayla gasped, as she stared at everything from the crystal lamps hanging from the ceiling all the way down to the imported carpet under her feet.
As she backed away from the wall to get a different perspective on the fine painting hanging before her, she accidentally backed into the antique vase holding flowers on a little table by the garage. It was where I set my keys for the chauffer to put away when he washed the cars in the morning.
Kayla stifled a scream as I caught the vase seconds before it crashed to the floor.
"I'm so sorry. I knew I shouldn't touch anything. This place is like a museum."
"Don't worry about it. It's all just stuff and can be replaced." I lead her to the sitting room where I often entertained guests before dinner parties or during dates.
It was equipped with a full bar and I poured her a double vodka and one for myself. The maid brought us out a plate of cold hors d'oeuvres from the kitchen, and we sat talking, drinking, and eating.
It didn't take long for Kayla to open up about the fight she'd had with Mick. The guy sounded like a real asshole, cheating on her while she's working to pay all their bills. If he'd have been there, I'd have punched him again.
"I knew things hadn't worked out the way that we had planned," Kayla said, draining the last drops of vodka from her glass.
"We were supposed to be married by now, living in the great house he bought from all the money he made as an entrepreneur, and I was going to be a glamorous model and we'd travel the world together, being fabulously wealthy and happy. None of things he promised me came even remotely true.
“He couldn't even hold down a job for more than a few months, and up until today, my modeling career was virtually non-existent. He never even married me like he promised he would. Still, I thought none of that mattered, because at least he loved me. It's why I stayed loyal to him all this time and did almost everything for him."
I filled her glass again and handed her a tissue to dry her eyes. It was all I could do to control my anger at the asshole for making her cry this way. "He doesn't deserve you."
"Thanks. I've been feeling like things weren't right between us for a while now, but it still hurts to have caught him cheating. Why wasn't I enough for him?"
"Trust me, you're the kind of woman any man would be lucky to have. You're beautiful, smart, funny, daring, creative, practical, and kind. If he can't see that, he's an idiot."
"You really think all that about me?" Kayla beamed as she swayed towards me a little drunkenly.
"I do," I said, leaning in towards her, and then our lips came together. Her kiss was soft and sweet, just like I knew it would be, and she opened her mouth to me so our tongues met. I pulled her to me, wrapping my hands through her hair and crushing her to me, wanting more.
A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, and she moaned the words I'd been desperate to hear since the moment I first saw her. "Make love to me."
Taking her by the hand, I led her up the stairs to my bedroom suite. I lifted her in my arms, carried her to my bed, and lay her in the center of it. This was going to be a night worth waiting for. We would do far more than make love; we would fuck until she could orgasm no more and she would always remember this night. Tonight, my dreams would become a reality.
Chapter Ten: Kayla
I had been wondering what it would be like to kiss Ethan. It was why I tried so hard to hate him, because I knew it was wrong to desire another man when I was engaged. But, Mick and I weren't in a relationship anymore and I was free to be with anyone I wanted.
Ethan's mouth was firm upon mine, insistent, urgent, and hot as hell. I opened my mouth to him, and the kiss deepened as he pulled me into his strong arms. I sighed with pleasure.
"Make love me," I breathed, and his mouth flew open wide with happy surprise. I couldn't believe I spoken the words aloud. Sure, I'd been thinking them, but it was so unlike me to act so impulsively. I could only blame it on the alcohol; why else would be acting this way? The only other man I'd ever been with was Mick, and we had just broken up less than hour ago. This had to be a mistake. I needed to take the words back.
Ethan took me by the hand and started to lead me up the grand staircase that led to the second floor of his elaborate mansion. Everything was so beautiful, shining, and grand. It was like living in a museum or a fairytale mansion.
That's when I realized that maybe I deserved this moment. Maybe, after all these years of working hard to please a man who never really loved me, I deserved a night of fairytale romance. I was the damsel in distress, and Ethan was my heroic prince taking me up to his tower for a night of passion.
Was it careless and even a little a wrong? Maybe, but I didn't care. The liquor had helped free me from my normal inhibitions and my broken heart had taught me to live in the moment. I was doing this for myself, and I was going to enjoy every moment of it.
We reached the doorway at the top of the stairs and I gasped in surprise as Ethan hoisted me into his arms and carried me through the threshold like a virgin princess.
His bed was an enormous California king made of exquisitely carved, dark-cherry wood. The silk comforter felt like heaven as I luxuriated in the feel of it.
When Ethan stripped off his clothes to stand naked before me, I couldn't help but admire his incredible physique. His tan skin was rippling
with muscles. I wanted to run my hands down his smooth chest and over his washboard abs. As he stood before me, I started to peel off my clothes, too.
"No, wait," he instructed. "Let me do it."
He climbed onto the bed to lay beside me. Kissing my lips and running his hands through my hair, I hardly noticed as he began to lift up my soft, pink tee-shirt. He pulled it over my head and buried his face in the cleavage of my bra. Then, he kissed his way down my flat stomach till he came to the waist of my jeans.
He unfastened the buttons of my 501s, kissing his lips over the top of my silk panties as he went. Sighs of pleasure escaped my lips, and I was eager for him to move faster. I reached for my jeans and started to pull them off my waist, but Ethan stopped me again.
"You are an impatient little thing," he chided playfully. "I'm going to have to teach you how to savor the moment. Good things come to the one who waits. It's a lesson I'll teach you tonight. Now, don't move again."
He placed my hands behind my head and commanded me to keep them there, threatening mischievously, "If you can't do it, I'll have to tie your hands in place."
Smiling up at him, I giggled, "I'll behave; I promise."
Ethan returned to the work at hand, slowly peeling off my jeans, inch by inch, kissing me over the top of my underwear, then down my naked thighs, all the way down my legs, until he pulled my jeans completely off and tossed them onto the floor. He returned and unclasped my bra, pulling it up over my arms where I stubbornly kept my hands clasped behind my head, making him unable to remove the bra the rest of the way.
"You told me not to move," I said teasingly.
"So I did. Good girl." Ethan smirked approvingly.
Next, he lavished his attention on my breasts, starting with the left and then moving on to the right. He held them in his hands, kissing every inch of them in an intricate circle until he came to the nipples at the very center. There, he spent the most time—lapping, licking, kissing, nipping, and nibbling. I arched my back, squirming in delight beneath his incredible touch. Mick had never been much into foreplay, and I had never before experienced such pleasure.