He won’t fail me.
He chooses me.
He’ll always choose me.
“Ethan,” I breathe. “What are we doing?”
“Right now,” he growls, pulling my face to his. “I’m kissing you.”
Our mouths fuse, and our tongues unite.
Our kiss quickly deepens.
His skilled mouth devours mine, taking my breath away.
My hands roam over his shoulders, down his chest, and over his taut stomach. I don’t know what it is about Ethan, but when I’m around him, whether it’s watching a movie, or playing Blackjack, or taking a walk down the pier, everything else fades into the background, leaving only Ethan and me, locked away in our own world.
When my shaky hands land on the button of his pants, he freezes and backs up. “Angel,” he murmurs.
“Ethan… I want you.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I open my eyes and find his closed, his face contorted in pain. “You don’t want me?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of my voice.
“Are you fucking serious?” he says, his eyes flying open. “Of course I do. Look at you. All sexy and innocent, sitting on my lap like a living, breathing temptation sent from the devil himself.”
“So, then what’s the problem?”
“Let’s take things slow,” he says gently. “We’re just getting to know each other. We have all the time in the world.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I don’t let him see. Instead I nod and climb off him.
“Nevaeh,” he says, pulling me toward him. We’re both now lying on our sides, facing each other. Ethan is still in his dress pants and shirt, and I’m in a pair of his boxers and shirt. I have my own pajamas, but I love to wear his. They’re soft and comfortable.
“It’s fine,” I say, not wanting to have this conversation. I’m so in over my head when it comes to this guy. My body and mind become mush around him, and for some crazy reason, he’s decided he’s going to be the voice of reason. I roll over, so I’m no longer facing him, and he sighs. The bed dips slightly, and when I peek over my shoulder, I see he’s gotten up and walked out of the room.
I close my eyes, refusing to let the tears come. Just as I’m falling asleep, the bed dips again, and Ethan wraps his strong arms around my body. “Good night, Angel,” he murmurs. And with a soft kiss to my neck, I fall asleep in Ethan’s hold.
I wake up to find the sun shining through the blinds. It’s morning. At some point in the middle of the night, I ended up with my head on Ethan’s chest, and my legs intertwined with his. Not wanting to wake him up, I peel myself from his body and quietly pad to the bathroom to go pee. After I wash my hands, I head downstairs so I can surprise him with breakfast. It’s Sunday, so he won’t have to go to the club today. Maybe we can hang out or do something.
“Morning,” Raquel says. She’s sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping on a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” I say back. “I’m going to make breakfast for Ethan and me. Would you and Andrew like to join?”
A sad smile mars her face. “I’m not sure if we should…”
“Ethan will forgive you,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “You just need to give him time. Explain why you did what you did, and go from there.”
Raquel nods. “Okay.”
While I make enough pancakes, eggs, and bacon to feed an army, Raquel and I chat about her time in the Dominican Republic. She asks about me, and maybe it’s because I haven’t really had anyone to talk to since everything happened with my brother and mom, but I end up spilling my guts to her. About my brother’s death, my mom lying to everyone, walking away from her and the church…
“My entire world has revolved around the church and my mother since the day I was born,” I say. “For the first time it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Like the possibilities are endless… But…”
“But you can’t run from your problems because they are a part of you, and until you fully deal with them, they will weigh down on you,” Raquel says, finishing what I was thinking but couldn’t put into words.
“You ran from yours,” a masculine voice says. I turn around to find Ethan leaning against the doorframe. Gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and a white T-shirt across his chest. His hair is messy from sleep, and his eyes are hooded over.
“Yes, I did,” Raquel says. “I was speaking from experience.”
“Come sit,” I tell Ethan. “I’m almost done making breakfast.”
When I turn back to the pan, I feel Ethan at my back, his large hands wrapping around my waist, and his chin landing on my shoulder. I freeze in my spot, soaking up his attention. All the years with Gerald and he never made me feel the way Ethan does.