Leveling the Field (Gamers)

by Megan Erickson

  So, it was confirmed, Ethan looked just as delicious in lounge clothes as he did in a formal suit. What a jerk.

  When she was able to drag her eyes away from the rather large bulge in his crotch, she met his eyes. “Hey.”

  His gaze traveled down to her feet and back up. “Did you make it okay?”

  She nodded. “Sure, easy to find.”

  He stepped back so she could walk past him. He gestured to her bag. “Want me to take that?”

  “Oh”—she handed it to him—“sure, you can put it anywhere. I never leave my camera unattended.”

  With a flush, she remembered their last encounter. He must have, too, because he ducked his head and placed her camera bag on a hook in the front closet door. “Right.”

  “Ethan—”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  His gaze told her he needed time—that he didn’t want to delve into the apologies and the talking right away. She could handle that. So she smiled. “Sure.”

  “Water, beer, chardonnay?”

  She followed him into the living room. “Chardonnay would be great, please.”

  He directed her to the couch. “I’ll be right back.” And then he headed out toward the kitchen.

  She eyed the couch but decided to stay standing. The room was neat, clean, and organized. Several pictures were on his mantle, and she walked over to peer at them. In one, Ethan stood with his arms around two women. There were enough similarities to assume they were related, if not siblings. Ethan wasn’t scarred in that picture. In fact, he looked just like she remembered E-Rad looking. Happy and charming and loving life.

  As Ethan walked back into the living room, holding two wine glasses, she was struck again with how much he’d changed.

  She took a glass from him and then took a sip, eyeing him as he held his glass with his large hand, brow furrowed as he stared at a point on the wall over her shoulder. His shoulders were tense, his lips thinned.

  “Look, I’m sorry for how I acted when I last saw you.” He still wasn’t meeting her eyes, but she stayed silent. “That was wrong of me. I’m surprised you agreed to come here today. I’m clearly not a whole man, and you’ve put up with my moods numerous times now…” He blew out a breath and finally met her gaze. “I know the sex is great, but you didn’t sign up to deal with me.”

  She glanced to the side, her gaze resting on the picture, and when she turned to him, his eyes had followed hers. And instead of the frown that had marred his features, now there was…something else in his expression. Something painful and heavy, and it nearly took her breath away.

  She gripped the wine glass tighter. This was a moment that could change their arrangement. If she admitted she knew who he was, he could throw her out. He could be angry. He could rage and tell her she was a liar.

  Or he could open up. And maybe, she’d have a chance to get a peek at the soft inner core of Ethan Talley. Just the fact that he stood in front of her, not taking care to mask his features, gave her hope.

  She took another gulp of wine, grimacing as the alcohol slid down her throat, then she blurted, “I know who you are.”

  His whole body jerked so hard she thought he’d lose his balance. He didn’t correct his face or hide his shock as he stared at her. “Excuse me?” His voice was a whisper.

  Lissa squared her shoulders to gather her courage. “I know who you are. You’re E-Rad. I knew it from the moment I heard your voice. My brother and I… We used to watch you all the time when we were younger.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink.

  “I didn’t tell you because that wasn’t what we had. We didn’t do anything but take each others’ clothes off. I’m not sure what we are anymore, but we feel past that. Hell, we already had our first fight, right?” She tried for levity, but he didn’t move a smile, not even a quirk of his lips. Taking a step closer, she placed her wine glass on the coffee table. “Ethan? Can you please say something?”

  Finally, he blinked. Once. Twice. Then he swallowed slowly. When his gaze returned to that far-off point over her shoulder, she knew she’d lost him.

  She’d gone too far.

  Without emotion, he said, “I’d like you to leave now.”

  She didn’t want to, not at all, not when his face was deathly pale, those scars standing out in livid streaks along his neck and jaw. But he wasn’t there anymore; he was somewhere else, somewhere he dwelled on that pain. Somewhere she couldn’t touch.

  So with what dignity she had left, she walked to the hall closet and gathered her bags. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned around once more to see he hadn’t moved. “This is your house, and I’m respecting your wishes. But you have to know, Ethan, I don’t want to leave. You have stories. Well I have stories, too. I have scars just like you, but mine aren’t on my skin. I think you would have found we could have dulled each others’ pain. But if you’re not interested, then neither am I.”

  She opened the door and walked out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan stared at his mantle, at the pictures he kept there to torture himself, with Lissa’s words ringing in his head. It took gargantuan effort to tear himself away from his own misery to think about what she said.

  Yes, his initial attraction to Lissa had been all physical. But she made him laugh. He enjoyed her company and listening to her talk. And she was so beautiful when she was focused on her work, like that day in the park.

  Would it kill him to let her in? Just a little? It was his mental defect that had been the reason they’d parted ways poorly at the park.

  He could head down his hallway and make himself a cocoon on his bed for days. Or he could see if there was any way Lissa could ease some of the pain he’d been carrying for years.

  We could have dulled each others’ pain.

  What was hiding behind her large smile and warm eyes? What kind of pain had she known? The sound of her car starting outside tore him out of his thoughts, and before he could stop himself, he ran out of the house, leaping down the stairs of his front porch and toward Lissa’s car. Her head was down, most likely changing gears so she could back out of his driveway and leave him.

  Like he’d told her to do. He was such an asshole.

  The headlights blinding him, he slammed his hands down on the hood of her car, and her head jerked up. He couldn’t see her expression well, so he waited to see if the car would move. He wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other before her arm lowered and the car shut off.

  By the time his eyes adjusted to the dark again, she stood in the open doorway of her car.

  She didn’t say one word. And it wasn’t because she didn’t have words. It was because it was his turn to talk. To explain. He knew that.

  He curled his hands into fists where they still rested on her hood. He held her gaze, even though he wanted to look away, then he gave her the sole reason he was scarred and pissed off and alone. “I killed my sister.”

  She didn’t move. Her jaw twitched like she meant to say something, then she shook her head and walked toward him. She reached out, tugged on one of his hands, threaded her fingers through it, and led him back into the house.

  He followed her, thankful she hadn’t left. That those four words hadn’t sent her running for the hills.

  He’d left the front door open in his wake, and she walked inside, once again placing her camera back on the hook inside the closet door, along with her purse. In the living room, she pushed on his shoulders until he sat on the couch, then she handed him his wineglass and picked up hers.

  The whole time, his mind spun as he tried to read her expression. Lissa was expressive, but right now, she was frustratingly blank.

  When she sat beside him and placed a hand on his knee, she nodded.

  That was his cue to talk. He thought for a split second about backing out, but it was too late. So he licked his lips and spilled his guts. “I had a lot of money when I was commentating video games. One of the things I bought was a flashy car.
I was showing off, with my sister in the passenger seat, and I lost control. We crashed. She didn’t survive, and I emerged like this.” He gestured toward his face and neck. “Sure, I’m vain, and the scars bother me sometimes, but mostly it’s what they represent. They are an everyday reminder that because of me, my sister is no longer here. I took her from our other sister, from her parents, from her family and friends. Everyone loved Samantha. And because of me, we’re all without her.” He shook his head. “And don’t tell me, ‘oh it was an accident, it wasn’t your fault’ or any of that other well-meaning bullshit. Because I know it all, and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. I caused her death, and everyone knows it. But most of all me.”

  He ran out of steam and let his head fall back on the couch. He rolled it to the side to see if Lissa was horrified or sympathetic. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see either reaction. He didn’t even want to be having this conversation.

  She stood up and walked to the mantel, then picked up the photo of him, Samantha, and Chloe. “Which one is Samantha?”

  “The one on the right,” he said, closing his eyes. He could recount that picture completely from memory, the way her hair was blown out to one side in the breeze. The hole in her jeans on her right knee.

  “She was very pretty,” Lissa said. “And that smile… She looks like someone I would have been friends with.”

  He opened his eyes to see her gazing at the picture with affection. “She would have liked you a lot. And you would have liked her.”

  She placed the picture back on the mantel and turned to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. “So what does this have to do with what happened at the park?”

  “You were looking at my scars,” he said. “And all I could think about was that I couldn’t give you more. I wasn’t capable of it. I’ve spent my life since the accident avoiding people and…avoiding everything, really. I’m either here, or with my other sister, or at work. I didn’t want to have this conversation.”

  She cocked her head. “And now that we’re having it, how do you feel?”

  He smiled a little at that. “Okay, I guess.”

  “I mean, you’re still breathing. No heart attack. Blood still pumping. It’s amazing what we’re capable of.”

  If anyone else had said that to him, he would have told them to fuck off. But she wasn’t mocking. She was watching him like she understood. Like she knew how much this was taking out of him. “Where are your scars?” he asked softly.

  She bit her lip and looked away before meeting his eyes again. “My scar is in Willow Park Cemetery, and it’s in the shape of a headstone for my sister.”

  He sat up and braced his forearms on his knees, waiting for her to keep talking.

  She ran her hand up and down one thigh, the sound of her nails catching on the denim rhythmic. “So, my sister was in a one-car accident. Rona was coming home late from class and fell asleep. The accident left her with burn scars similar to yours, but she was never the same. The accident triggered something, and we all missed a lot of warning signs. She, um, killed herself a couple of years ago.”

  His heart plummeted. “Oh, Lissa, I’m so sorry.”

  She met his gaze directly. “Thanks. I am, too.” She took a step toward him. “You’re not the only one with guilt. I didn’t cause her accident, but I didn’t take care of her afterward. I didn’t pay enough attention, and I missed everything. I wasn’t there for my sister when she needed me the most, and now she’s not here.”

  He stared at his hands as he twisted them. “I don’t know how to make this guilt go away. I tried at first but then I decided I’d have to learn to live with it. But it’s killing me slowly.” He hadn’t admitted that to anyone before, not even Chloe. Not even himself.

  There was a rustle of clothes and then Lissa was on her knees in front of him, peering up into his face. She reached out slowly and brushed back the hair that had fallen off his forehead. “I think…we have to forgive ourselves. But damn if I haven’t figured out how to do that.”

  He smiled, although it felt wobbly. “Yeah, I don’t have the golden ticket for that.”

  “Does it help that I tell you I understand? I know our situations aren’t the same, but—”

  He shook his head. “They’re not, but it does help. This isn’t the conversation I expected to have, or wanted to have, but it might be the conversation I needed. What about you?”

  “I hate that you had to go through what you did, and that you still face it every day, but yeah, talking about this has helped.”

  He reached out and drew her further into the V of his legs. She braced her hands on his thighs and peered up into his face as he rubbed a thumb along her jaw. “Will you stay tonight? I don’t know…I don’t know what I can promise. I’m pretty fucked up, Lissa. But I can promise tonight.”

  She didn’t even hesitate before she nodded. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

  …

  By the time they made it to the bedroom, fused at the mouth, the slow pace of the evening had morphed into something frenzied.

  It was like after a controlled conversation where they were forced to humanize themselves to each other, now all they wanted was to get out a pure animal lust.

  Lissa still couldn’t believe Ethan had followed her outside. She’d sworn that was the end of it all, but then he’d flown out of his house like a blue-eyed bat and stood like a statue in front of her car.

  And his aching voice saying the words—I killed my sister—would stick with her forever.

  But she’d dwell on that another time, because right now, Ethan was unbuttoning her jeans and slipping his hands down the back of them to palm her ass. He tugged her to him, and she smashed against him with a grunt, her fingernails digging into his skin, since he’d already shed his shirt.

  She tilted her head back as his lips coasted down her neck, nipping along the way. He tugged her shirt off her shoulder, and his lips felt so good she didn’t even protest that he was stretching it out.

  She reached down and palmed the bulge in his sweatpants. “This for me?” she asked as he leaned back to pull her shirt over her head.

  “What do you think?” he growled, focusing his attention on her breasts.

  She gasped as he unsnapped her bra and the cool air hit her hard nipples. “I think I’ve been a good girl, and this is for me.”

  He smiled then, a devilishly wicked smile. “Good answer.”

  He shoved her gently, and she fell back onto the bed. He took off her shoes, kissing the inside of her ankles, then slid her jeans down her hips and off onto the floor. His hands skimmed over her knees, up her thighs, his eyes bright as he took in her nearly naked body.

  She squirmed under his touch as his thumbs skimmed the edges of her panties. He stared up at her, a challenge in his eyes as he slid her underwear down her legs, and then slowly, one-by-one, he lifted her legs onto his shoulders as he knelt beside the bed. His gaze was between her legs now, and she sucked in a breath as he slid a finger down her wet flesh. He rubbed it over her opening, back and forth over her clit, as she gasped, rising up onto her elbows to watch what he was doing. “Are you going to put your mouth on me, or just look at it?” she asked.

  He smiled. “You want my mouth?”

  “I want your tongue on my clit and your fingers inside me, that’s what I want. And after that, I want you to take off those tempting sweatpants, get your cock out, and fuck me.”

  He grinned and laughed. “There’s no one like you, you know that?”

  She shuddered as he circled her opening. “I know; I have a dirty mouth.”

  He leaned down and blew a stream of cold air on her clit. “Hmmm, yeah it is dirty, but I like it.”

  He flattened his tongue and ran it over her in one long, slow lick. She let her head fall back as he worked her over with his tongue, spearing it into her, then pulling back to swirl it over her clit. He held her open with his thumbs, and just when she was about to holler about needing to be fil
led, he shoved two fingers inside of her.

  She cried out. Loudly. So loud that he jerked up, eyes wide. “Damn, I’m glad my neighbors aren’t close.”

  “No talking,” she panted as he thrust his fingers in and out. “Your mouth should not be talking right now, it should be doing things that will make me come.” He bit her inner thigh and she yelped, which turned into laughter. “Fuck, okay I’m sorry.”

  “Bossy,” he muttered, but then he did as she asked and his mouth was back on her and his fingers were working her inside and fuck this was heaven. She ran her hands through his dark hair as he worked her open. When he crooked his fingers and found something inside of her, her orgasm rocketed through her with no warning. None at all. She couldn’t even warn him as she ground onto his face, noises leaving her throat as she collapsed onto her back, unable to continue supporting herself.

  “Oh my God,” she moaned, unable to move as Ethan arranged her limbs lengthwise on the bed. A condom wrapper crinkled, and then he was between her legs, notching his cock at her entrance and then shoving home in one thrust. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, her face in his neck, as he fucked her.

  “I’m not going to last long,” he said in her ear. “Not when you looked like a fucking queen coming on my mouth. Not when I can still taste you on my tongue. And I already want more.”

  She reached down and squeezed his ass, his words doing something to heal her heart. She wanted to do the same for him.

  “Best I ever had.” She told the truth. “I knew you could work that cock of yours, but now that I know you can do the same with your finger and tongue, I might never let you out of this bed.”

  His hips stuttered, and with a soft groan, he came.

  She wanted to say, I love how you treat my body, but will you treat my heart the same? Instead, she closed her eyes and held him close.

  Chapter Twelve

  At rest, Ethan looked years younger. It was apparent, now, how much tension he carried around every waking minute of the day. Because asleep, his skin was smooth, his mouth no longer set in a grim line.