He sat, rested his back against the walls, left his knees up, and rested his forearms there. “What other words?”
“Frustrating. Maddening. Confusing.”
“Not as bad as they could be. Not as good as I’d hoped. And suspiciously similar to the way I’d describe you.” When she only smiled, Ethan decided it was a good time to shoot for more insight into this frustrating, maddening, confusing woman. “So, why’d you quit Pacific Coast’s Finest?”
Delaney’s hands stopped shuffling, and her gaze cut toward him, sharp and defensive. “Why?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No, why do you want to know?”
“Again, this is that thing called conversation.” When she returned her attention to the box, he said, “The success of their operation has fascinated me, and I’ve heard they’re an amazing company to work for. Makes me curious why you quit.”
“Let’s stick with alternate topics of conversation.”
That only made him want to know more. But judging by the frown carving Vs in Delaney’s forehead, Ethan knew she wasn’t open to negotiation.
She’d filled one hand with old, yellowed papers—receipts, business cards, notes—and started digging in the box with her other. A square slipped from the mountain of papers between her fingers—a photograph—and Ethan swept it up.
“What have we got here?” He squinted at the faded, grainy photo and immediately recognized a much younger Delaney. “Oh, man,” he laughed. “This is priceless.”
“What?” She turned to see what he had, then grabbed for the picture from one of her high school proms. But Ethan pulled it out of reach, taking in her outfit, her hair, the guy posing stiffly beside her. “Ethan, give it to me. That should have been burned.”
“Wow, that’s some dress.” He held it at arm’s length on his left and blocked Delaney’s reach with his right arm, whistling through his teeth. “And that hair. How long did it take you to get it to stay like that? But the makeup—that’s got to be the kicker. I bet it weighed more than that slip of a dress. I bet you were one of those girls who left their house in one thing, then changed into something else once you were out.”
“Ethan.” She rolled to her knees, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and lunged across him, reaching for the photo, half-amused, half-pissed. “Give it back.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t getting it back. Not as long as she was giving him full-body contact trying to reach it. “Who’s the guy? He sure wasn’t from our school. And he looks way too old for a prom.”
He tur
ned his head to meet her eyes and found her right there, within easy kissable range. But he wasn’t going to push his luck. He really wanted time with her. Time to just hang and get to know her. And if he kissed her, he was pretty sure she would kick him out on his ass.
She stopped struggling and rested her flat belly against his slanted thighs, rocking with the quick rise and fall of her breaths.
“Isn’t there an age max on proms?” Ethan teased.
“Shut up.” She dug her fingers into his side—a ticklish spot she’d found during their night together—and he jumped.
“Uh-uh,” he warned. “Remember what happened last time you started that.”
Her eyes flicked to his and held. Ethan could swear he saw the memory passing through her gaze, leaving a trail of heat. Her fingers curled into fists, the way they had when he’d pinned her arms over her head the last time she’d tickled him. But then he’d been inside her, filling her, and he’d looked into her eyes as he’d driven his cock home over and over and over. Full, long, deep, and hard. Until she’d climaxed three different times. Until her fingernails had dug five half-moons into each palm. Until he’d been dripping sweat. When he’d finally let himself come, Ethan had climaxed in a wild rush of animalistic intensity that blasted through every last cell. The mere memory had him hard. And by the way her lids grew heavy, he knew she was thinking the exact same thing. He barely resisted asking her if she was wet.
Ethan forced his brain to the present and back to the subject of her old prom date. “Did they put him through the metal detector before they let him into the dance?”
Delaney laughed and pushed away. “You ass.”
He caught her around the waist before she got too far, eased one leg wide, then trapped her between his thighs with her back to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he held the photo out for both of them to see. “They did, didn’t they?”
She cast a half glance over her shoulder. “What’s your point?”
Ethan laughed. He laughed long and deep, and it felt so good. Felt even better when she started laughing with him. And even better when she leaned back against him, sliding her hands over his arms.
Another photo slipped from the papers, and Ethan leaned forward to scoop it up before she could.
“Stop,” she said, snatching it from his fingers. “That’s my naked baby picture. Those are sacred.”
Grinning, he rested his chin on her shoulder and turned his head to press his face to her cheek and neck, breathing her in—musk and floral and some exotic spice. “That’s all right,” he murmured against her skin, then kissed her neck. “I like the adult naked version much better.”