Forever Embers (Embers Series Book 3)

by L. S. Pullen

  I avoid making eye contact as I turn in his arms, but he grips my chin firmly and tilts my face towards his.

  “A Friends fan?”

  I shrug but can’t hide my smile. I can easily watch that damn show on repeat.

  “Come on then, I can tell my lack of unpacking is causing you distress,” he says with a chuckle, releasing my face and kissing my nose. I let out a small gasp, not used to being fucked so thoroughly and then treated so tenderly. I step out of his arms and move towards the boxes but not before he swats my arse gently. How does he do that? Turn me on as quickly as though he’s flicking on a damn light switch. I think I might be in a little way over my head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ethan

  I never thought hooking up would involve Charlotte helping me to unpack my boxes. Still, I can’t say I’m disappointed every time she bends down to get a handful of books, that T-shirt of mine rising, and I get the best fucking view of her backside––and fuck me if it isn’t a sight for sore eyes.

  She passes the books to me, and I add them to the empty floating shelves. I might need to invest in a small book cabinet for downstairs for the rest of them.

  “Wow, you really do like books,” she says, turning them over as she checks out the titles.

  I nod. “I read a lot when I first came out of the hospital. I’d get through a book a day. Got me back into reading,” I say with a shrug.

  “You were in the hospital?” she asks, her eyes softening.

  “Yeah, I was knocked out during my last professional fight and was put in an induced coma. It’s why I had to retire.”

  “I’m sorry, that must be tough,” she says, touching my arm gently.

  I stare at the book in my hand. “It’s taking some getting used to, but I’m getting there,” I say, and realise, it’s the truth.

  “That’s good. So, do you have a favourite book?” she asks, and something about her being interested warms me.

  “Anything by Neil Gaiman.”

  She smiles. “Yeah, he’s good. I don’t get to read as much as I used to, but Neverwhere is one of my favourites.”

  I take the books from her hands and stack them on the floor against the wall.

  “Yeah, that’s a good one. Did you watch the TV show?” I ask, finding it refreshing to talk about things outside of training and work.

  I don’t notice her sliding the tape open of the last box until it’s too late, when she reaches inside and produces one of my toys.

  “Oh, um,” she says, still holding my P-spot stimulator in her hand. I take it from her and quickly stow it in the bottom drawer in my bedside cabinet.

  “You might want to leave that box for me. I’ll get that later,” I say, and not because I’m embarrassed, but because it’s the last thing she expected to see.

  But she’s already pulling out a tube of lube and some butt plugs.

  Her eyes flit between them and then me as she bites her bottom lip, her cheeks heating a gorgeous shade of red. I can see the wheels turning in her head.

  “You have questions.” It's rhetorical. Of course she does.

  I take the stuff from her and add it with my stimulator.

  “It’s none of my business,” she says, but I can see she’s curious.

  “I like to play,” I say with a shrug. “I assume you have toys? A dildo?” I ask.

  She nods, but her eyes keep flicking over to my bedside table.

  “So, um, you can tell me to mind my own business or ask me to leave or whatever but are you gay?” she asks.

  And I can’t help but let out a small laugh, and not because she asked if I’m gay, but because she looks so confused. I shake my head. “No.”

  She points to the drawer. “Okay, so what are you… like… bi?” She covers her face with a hand, muttering to herself. “Fucking hell, I’m sorry, it’s still not my business.”

  I reach for her hand, prying it away from her face and pull her to my body.

  “It’s fine. If I were, I’d be honest and tell you, but I’m not. I enjoy playing, and I’m comfortable with my sexuality. Those are just some of the toys I like to use.”

  Her nipples harden underneath her T-shirt as she takes in my words.

  “So, you use them on yourself?” she asks curiously.

  I nod. “Yes. What about you? Do you like to play?” I ask.

  She swallows hard, and her eyes shoot to mine. Maybe I’ve gone too far.

  “What do you mean by ‘play’?” She clears her throat. “I mean, I have a vibrator, but I’ve never, you know, I mean…”

  I let out a soft chuckle. “It’s okay. Anal play isn’t for everyone, and I’ve never used that on anyone else. Only myself.”

  Her shoulders relax a fraction. “I mean, if you did, that’s okay. I’m by no means judging, like at all. I just didn’t anticipate butt plugs,” she says, her cheeks scarlet.

  “Understandable, and it’s not something I would just throw out there, but in the same breath, I have nothing to hide, and I won’t lie to you. And I would never expect you to do anything you feel uneasy about.”

  I’m comfortable with who I am and enjoy what I do, but I would never push that on someone else.

  “I think I’m starting to realise that about you. And I trust you. That sounds naïve… I mean, we hardly know each other. Hell, up until you, I’d never even had a one-night stand.”

  I pull her closer. “You were my first one-night stand too.” Her smile is enough to bring me to my knees.

  “Is it wrong that I like how I can just let go of my inhibitions with you?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all. We only live once,” I say.

  Several emotions cross her face before she speaks, her voice low and seductive.

  “Exactly, so you better enjoy me while you can. Nothing lasts forever,” she says, going on her tiptoes. My bottom drawer is forgotten as she brushes her lips against mine.

  Charlotte and I ended up falling asleep––good sex will do that. She’s insatiable, and something about her admitting she’s carefree with me has me wanting to beat my damn chest like a caveman. I want to give in to her every desire. She’s rare, and I’ve never met anyone like her.

  Her stare alone is captivating––like an enchantress, she puts a spell on me, and I am powerless to look away. I want to tell her how extraordinary her eyes are, but I bet she hears that all the time. Violet-blue hues of tanzanite might just be my new favourite colour.

  I’ve been watching her sleep for probably too long now, so I force myself to let her go and get out of bed. Grabbing some clothes, I shower and then head downstairs to make some tea.

  The sound of soft padding feet draw my attention, and when I turn to see her approaching me, dressed, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, damn if I’m not turned on.

  I clear my throat. “Tea?” I ask.

  “Yes, please. One and a bit sugars,” she says, her eyes darting around the kitchen.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I raise an eyebrow. “One and a bit sugars?” I question.

  She rolls her eyes. “Who are you, the sugar police?”

  I can’t help but laugh, stirring her tea before putting it down on the counter for her to take.

  “Do you want more milk?” I ask, aware some people like it milky, but I make it the way I take mine––strong, not stewed. No one wants skin on the top of their tea.

  “Nope, it looks perfect,” she says, about to take a sip.

  “Careful, it's hot.”

  She blows it once; her lips forming the perfect ‘O’ and fuck me if I’m not jealous of a teacup.

  “I like it hot,” she says.

  “Oh, I know you do,” I reply, allowing my eyes to scan the length of her body.

  She smirks at my comment but says nothing.

  “Do you want anything to eat?”

  She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’ve already overstayed my welcome,” she says, the confident mask she tries to hide behind slipping.

&
nbsp; “Oh, believe me, you haven’t. And maybe I was the one who wanted some breakfast,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. It pulls a laugh from her, the sound causing a flutter in my stomach and a pang in my chest. What the fuck?

  Charlotte evokes sensations and reactions I’ve only ever had for one other woman, and as much as the thought should scare me, it doesn’t. But we have an agreement, and the last thing I want is for this to end before it has had time to begin.

  I lean against the counter and openly watch as she drinks her tea, wishing those lips were wrapped around something other than the rim of the mug. Damn if I’m not some horny arse bastard this morning.

  “What’s your work schedule like?” I ask, already wondering when I can get my next fix.

  “I’m back to work Monday, five days on, two days off.”

  She walks towards me and places her empty mug next to the sink

  “What about you?”

  “Apart from helping my brother with his training, I’m pretty much my own boss, so I’m easy.”

  “And don’t I know it,” she says with a wicked gleam in her eye as she goes to her tiptoes and kisses me.

  And she’s right, because where she’s concerned, I’ve never been more compliant, and as much as I’d happily spend the day finding new ways to make her come, I do need to get to the gym.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte

  Olly grabs me in a bear hug when I arrive at the gym. I know how much this place means to him, the classes he offers and the charity fights he takes part in and organises. I’ve always loved how big his heart is, and it warms me to know his heart continued to grow even in my absence.

  I’m excited to finally see the place and get to spend the rest of my weekend off with him, Rachel and Molly-Mae.

  I look around as he leads me by the hand and stops in front of a group of guys just as one lets out a whistle, but it's soon cut short when he’s jabbed hard in the ribs by no other than Ethan.

  A lump forms in my throat as I try to swallow and look at the three guys before me. For a moment, I think I’m seeing double, and I worry I won’t get enough air into my lungs, but Olly’s voice pulls me from the moment as he introduces them.

  “Guys, this is Lottie, my little sister.”

  It’s weird being called Lottie again. After we were separated, I’d only go by Charlotte or Char. I refused to acknowledge Lottie. He always called me it growing up, and I felt as though I was betraying him by allowing anyone else to use his term of endearment for me.

  “This is Henry, Ethan and Nathan,” Olly says, pointing them out.

  Of course I know Ethan. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the guy I spent last night balls deep with is now standing in front of me.

  The one called Nathan wastes no time reaching out and giving my hand a slow shake. Olly punches him in the arm, causing him to let go, proving he’s still the same protective big brother.

  I shake Henry’s hand next, followed by Ethan’s, and I hope he doesn’t notice the way my palms sweat from the contact. I’m pretty sure my blush is giving me away, and I know I need to say something, anything.

  “Twins?” I ask, pointing between him and Henry. I know he said he had a brother, but I didn’t know he was a twin. I guess we didn’t cover much personal stuff between the amazing sex sessions. I have this huge desire to squeeze my thighs together to try and ignore the pulse between my legs, and now is the worst possible time to get turned on, for fuck’s sake.

  Henry’s still smiling when he replies. “Guilty, but I got all the looks.”

  I can’t hide my laugh because it’s a ridiculous comment. They’re twins, almost identical, but when Ethan smiles, his dimple is on the right cheek, unlike Henry’s––his is on the left.

  Olly explains how he wanted to show me around and then asks them to look out for me. I have to roll my eyes at this. I’m not a baby.

  “Olly, I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself,” I say light-heartedly.

  Henry laughs, the sound so much like Ethan’s but not quite as deep. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he says.

  I’m distracted when Ethan hits the back of Nathan’s head, his expression pensive.

  “Dude,” Nathan says and rubs at the spot.

  “Yeah, well, you deserved it. She’s not a damn toy.”

  At the mention of ‘toy’, I feel myself blushing. I have no idea what Nathan said for him to react like that, but I know I need a moment to compose myself.

  “Olly, can I use the ladies room?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, even though I feel the opposite.

  He nods and points me in the right direction, and without another word, I walk away. Ignoring the gym members, I just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other and exhale loudly when I walk in, grateful I made it without having a full-blown anxiety attack. Ethan is here, and he has a twin… Shit. I grab some tissues and pat my––now––sweaty face. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I hold my breath as I pull it out.

  Ethan: You said your name was Charlotte?

  What the hell? I type back my response with force.

  Me: It is Charlotte, but he’s always called me Lottie. How do you know Olly?

  I chew my bottom lip as I wait for him to reply.

  Ethan: He’s my friend, but Henry’s best friend.

  Oh my God. Does this change things now? I mean, I know it’s a small world, but shit…

  “Get it together,” I say to my reflection. It’s not like I can hide out in here.

  Pulling my shoulders back, I inhale and exhale a few times and then make my way back to where I left them to walk back in on the tail end of their conversation.

  “And by she, I assume you mean me?” I ask, my eyes flitting between the guys standing in front of me. Nathan looks away, albeit guilty.

  “Yeah, and on that note, be sure to avoid him, but these two are fine,” Olly says, but I think he’s mostly joking. They’re obviously quite close.

  “Duly noted,” I say, my eyes quickly flitting to Ethan. I wonder how he can appear so unaffected by me, even when we say our goodbyes. When Olly walks me upstairs towards his office, I risk another glance at Ethan. He’s just engrossed on his phone. It stings he can’t––or won’t––look at me. My stomach sinks at the prospect; last night might not happen again.

  I wonder if this changes everything?

  “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?” Olly asks as we enter his office.

  Panic rolls through me. Oh my God, how does he know about Ethan and me? Was I that obvious?

  “What do you mean?” I ask and look at the pictures on the wall as I try to school my features. They’re of all his charity events. Deep down, he’s still the same boy who saved me from that fire all those years ago.

  I point to the most recent one. “This is how I found you,” I say, smiling.

  He stands beside me. “I still can’t believe it,” he says, shaking his head. “But stop deflecting.”

  I sigh. “Deflecting?”

  “Is it that Shane guy? Do you need me to kick his arse?”

  I laugh at that because I have no doubt he would if I gave him the green light. “His name is Shaun, and no, you’re good. Alfie already asked, and I told him no as well. I’m glad we’re over.”

  I look around his office––there’s a desk, a small sofa and coffee table and kitchenette area. It’s quite quaint. I love it.

  “Okay, well, whatever his name is, as long as you’re sure, you just seem a little out of it.”

  “I’m all right, just a busy week at work, so I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my weekend with you, Rachel and Molly,” I say honestly.

  His eyes light up at their mention, and it would be sickening if it weren’t so damn adorable.

  “Well, don’t be surprised if Molly doesn’t have you wrapped around her little finger within an hour,” he says playfully.

  “I can’t wait. I have something for her in my boot.”
r />   Olly raises his eyebrows. “I hope it’s nothing too expensive. Rachel tells me off all the time for spoiling her.”

  I shake my head; it’s my old doll house, the one gifted to me when my parents adopted me.

  As hard as I try to stay engaged with Olly, in the back of my mind, I can’t stop thinking about Ethan and the possibility of what we’ve been doing coming to an abrupt end, which is the last thing I want to happen.

  For the first time in a long time, I know where I stand, no expectations. I feel like what I’m giving is reciprocated. And most importantly, the sex isn’t a chore, its fucking mind-blowing pleasure, and I don’t want to give that up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ethan

  I swear to God, I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw Charlotte, and fuck me if it wasn’t a struggle to act as though I hadn’t had my face between her legs and been exploring her body from head to toe less than twenty-four hours ago.

  It took everything in me to try and pretend to be focused on my phone, anything to stop me from openly staring. When Nathan piped up and continued to make backhanded comments, I struggled to keep my cool. I can’t explain why a part of me had this overwhelming urge to declare that she’s mine, even though she’s far from it.

  “Looks like someone likes you,” Nathan says, and I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. He’s more perceptive than people give him credit for, and he’s always been able to read me.

  “Whatever, man, just don’t be a dick around her, okay?”

  Nathan’s our cousin and a good guy at heart. Hell, we’ve known him our whole lives, but it does piss me off when he hides behind being a clown or speaking before he’s had time to think about how he uses his words.

  “You’re right, man. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”