The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set

“Before we leave I’ll pull the car closer,” he assured her. She nodded, satisfied, and watched him open up the door and gesture for her to go inside.

Immediately upon entering the room, she felt intimidated. Red carpet covered the floor of the large unit, and along the center of the left wall was a giant bed with crisp white sheets and a red blanket folded up, draped across the bottom. More pointed than that, when she took another step forward, she looked to her left and saw a corner with mirrored walls behind a big Jacuzzi tub on a white raised dais.

It was a room for sex, not sleeping.

Ethan’s hand moved to rest lightly on the small of her back and she jumped, not expecting it.

“Is that okay?” he asked, glancing at her face.

Nodding despite her uncertainty, she assured him it was.

The door closed behind them but she didn’t move any closer to the bed. In front of the bed was a dresser constructed of cherry-veneered wood, a mid-size television on top of it. Beyond the bed, in front of another door—maybe a closet—was a big beige chair with a matching ottoman.

“Want to watch TV?” Ethan asked lightly.

It was just the right thing to say. Willow cracked a smile and turned toward him, shaking her head no. Then, without a word, she decided to dive right in.

Her hands went to the lapels of his jacket and she began to peel it off of him. Surprise flashed across his features, but he let her do it, helping when one of the sleeves got caught. Just in front of them, before the dresser, was a mini fridge with a microwave on top, and once it was off, Ethan discarded his jacket on top.

“I forgot the whiskey in the car,” he murmured.

“You don’t need the whiskey,” she replied, her voice a little less steady than she intended. Maybe she needed the whiskey. This was no way to pretend-seduce a man.

Before he could respond or remark on her clear uncertainty, she reached for the hem of her black crochet sweater and pulled it over her head, tossing it in a heap on the floor in front of the fridge.

Ethan swallowed, his gaze moving down her body—slowly, in no hurry that time, not trying to hide it. The appreciation in his gaze made her feel more confident, and acting on instinct alone, she placed one hand on his chest and pushed him backward until he was pressed against the wall.

Both of his eyebrows lifted in surprise and she fought the urge to ask if that was okay—she wasn’t going to ask permission. Once he was there, she wasn’t altogether sure what to do with him, so she just moved closer until her body brushed against his. Leaning in, she nuzzled her face against his neck while her daring hand left his chest and dropped lower, caressing his growing erection.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and barely stifled a groan. Bringing her other arm up to wind around his neck, she trailed her kisses up to his ear where she experimentally took the lobe lightly between her teeth and tugged. One of his free hands moved to her waist, tugging her a little closer, and as her pelvis pressed up against the evidence of his arousal, a little gasp of her own slipped out.

“Sorry,” he said roughly, releasing her waist and dropping his hand to his side. “I forgot the rules for a second.”

Biting back a small smile, she said, “Well, don’t do that. It’s kind of the whole point. But you can put your hand back if you want, you just surprised me.”

He merely shook his head, his hands remaining at his sides.

Instead of resuming her exploration, she took a step back. “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right back. You can… get comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the expanse of the room.

“Maybe I should go get the whiskey,” he suggested.

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder, then disappeared behind the door.

Without delay, Ethan opened the door and headed to the car.

Ethan was in hell. He had to be.

He also had to be absolutely insane to have agreed to this to begin with.

After three generous gulps of whiskey, he put the bottle down on the nightstand between the bed and the Jacuzzi—then, looking at the Jacuzzi, he reconsidered and took one more gulp.

His phone was still in his pocket, so he took it out to make sure he hadn’t missed any texts or phone calls. He even considered texting Amanda to let her know not to wait up. Guilt tore at him then, but he didn’t want her to worry either. Before he could reconsider, he quickly sent a message to let her know he would be out late, and as soon as it sent, he turned the phone off and put it on the table beside the whiskey.

How had his life gotten so fucked up? Mere months ago there was no imaginable scenario that would have put him where he was, and yet… there he was.

Even though it was her idea to begin with, he wasn’t even sure Willow was on board. He didn’t know her well enough to know how she was going to feel about even a mock-seduction, since it was obviously going to involve very real touching and sexual arousal. It seemed from her comments like she was okay with it—or could at least rationalize it in some way—but he couldn’t say whether or not that was a front.

He might also feel less like an asshole if part of him didn’t want to be there. If he could actually say the only reason he had agreed was to reassure her that she could trust a man not to force her into something she didn’t feel comfortable with, and no part of him just wanted to touch her again.