“They hurt your feet,” Ethan said. “That means they suck. I don’t care what they look like. Come here.”
Ethan extracted himself from the bean bag chair and ran out of the room. When he returned, there was a bottle of lotion in his hands. He plopped down on the end of the couch, turned towards the center, and sat cross-legged, holding one hand out.
“Lay down with your head over there,” he said, indicating the arm of the couch. “Put your feet over here. I swear you won’t regret it. I give an awesome foot massage.”
“Yeah, you have a thing for feet,” I said with a grin. Ethan blushed. That was something I could easily get used to because it was so freaking adorable.
“Well remembered,” he said. He reached out his tongue and fiddled with the silver rings in his lip. “Please?”
I didn’t know if there was a woman in existence who could actually pass up a man pleading with her to let him give her a foot massage. I sat down and placed my feet in his lap. Ethan grinned over at me—I loved the way he smiled so often, almost as much as the blush—and picked up my left foot with both hands.
He coated his hands with the lotion and then started by rolling my foot in a slow, gentle circle, stretching out the muscles around my ankle. Once he was done with that, he moved to the top of my foot and stroked gently from the top of my toes towards my ankle, and then he added more pressure as he repeated the motion. He tilted my toes back a little, rubbing the balls of my feet in little circles with his thumbs before working all the way back to my heel. He swirled my ankle in a circle again—first one way, then the other.
Ethan made a fist with one hand and rubbed the tops of his knuckles over the sole of my foot before attacking each of my toes in turn, starting with the big one. At the end, he ran his index finger between each toe, and then slid his hands back over the sole of my foot.
By the time he was halfway done with my second foot, I closed my eyes and lay my head back on the arm of the couch. His hands felt so good on my skin, and his touch was just perfect—not too gentle or too rough. I was pretty sure I let out a moan more than once, which Ethan welcomed with a soft chuckle.
He started humming while his thumbs ran up and down my instep, something slow, haunting and unknown to me. I found I couldn’t open my eyes anymore if I wanted to, and his touch and his voice faded from my consciousness.
What seemed a moment later, I jostled awake, finding myself cradled in his arms as he stood in the middle of the hallway, looking back and forth between two doors.
“Ethan?” I said sleepily. He looked down at me, his expression confused.
“I didn’t know where I should take you,” Ethan said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up; I just…didn’t know where to go. There’s a guest room…”
“Just take me to your room,” I said.
“Thank God,” I heard him murmur right before I dropped back off.
*****
I woke up disoriented, trying to figure out where I was. There were warm, strong arms wrapped around me, one across my back and the other up near my shoulder. Fingers lay lightly across the back of my neck, threaded through my hair. Ethan’s fingers. I was at Ethan’s apartment, in his room, in his bed, in his arms.
Was I out of my mind?
True to his word, he hadn’t tried anything. Against my better judgment, I wouldn’t have minded too much if he had.
I raised my head a bit off his chest and looked up into his face. It was calm and peaceful in sleep, and the dark stubble covering his face was a little more pronounced than when I first saw him and was beginning to blend in with his sideburns. Most of his hair had escaped the unruly man-bun at the top of his head, and I noticed for the first time that his hair was long enough to reach past his shoulders. His dark lashes touched the top of his cheekbone. I could have just stared at him for some time, but nature called, and I shifted a little to break out of Ethan’s grip. As soon as I moved, his arms tightened and pulled me against his chest again.
“No.” His raspy voice echoed through the darkened room. I looked back up at him and found his forehead creased and his eyes tightly shut. There was a distinct frown on his face, but he didn’t appear to have awakened.
I smiled at his twisted up look of disappointment and gently released his arm from around my neck before trying to get up again. His eyes flew open.
“Don’t go,” he said. His voice held a touch of panic.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I said softly.
“Oh,” he mumbled and released his grip. He blinked a few times and then glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was early still—just a little past six in the morning. He followed me with his gaze me as I rolled over, placed my feet on the soft carpet beside the bed, and made my way to the master bath.
When I returned, Ethan was still awake and greeted me with that smile. A girl could really get used to seeing that in the morning.
Okay, obviously I was out of my mind.
He held his arms out, and I couldn’t help but return the smile as I clambered back into the king-size bed and back into the warmth of his embrace. He slid his hand up my back and threaded his fingers through my hair before resting his hand lightly against my neck once again. I heard and felt Ethan take a deep breath, which he let out slowly. I tilted my head a bit to look up at him and saw he was already asleep with the last remnants of his smile still visible on his face.
Contrarily, it took me significantly longer to fall asleep again. For a while I lay my head down on his chest and kept my eyes closed, but sleep didn’t come as quickly as I would have liked, so I turned my head up to watch him sleep. I could see just a little bit more of the top of the tattoo near his neck, almost completely hidden by his T-shirt. It was red and black with just a hint of green. I was pretty sure it was a flower of some kind—maybe a rose. With his arm wrapped around me, I couldn’t get a better view of the tattoo there, but it was definitely a tail. I thought it was most likely a dragon or at least something reptilian. There was something written on the bottom, under the triangular pointed end of the tail, but I couldn’t see all the letters from the angle I had. If I shifted my head, I could make out “i-e-m,” but that was all. I was going to have to ask him about the tattoos tomorrow. Maybe he’d take his shirt off so I could see them.
Now there’s an idea.