“Of course it’s okay,” Ethan says. “Any of your friends are welcome over any time. You don’t have to ask.”
Blaire smiles. “I would love to come over and hang out.”
She takes a sip of her drink, looking from Ethan to me as if we’re a puzzle that needs to be solved. “How long are you planning on staying there? You sound like you two are living together.”
“My dad and mom recently returned from vacation and we’re staying there to spend time with them,” Ethan says, saving me since I had no clue how to answer her. “We’re only going to be there for a few more weeks, though. My parents are planning a trip to Vegas in about a month or so.”
This is news to me. Does that mean he plans to have me safe in the next few weeks? The thought leaves me with mixed feelings. I hate being scared of being taken, but I’ve grown to love hanging out with Ethan, especially the last few nights of us sharing a bed. And when I go home, I’ll not only be without Ethan, but without Blaire.
“Do you live in the city?” Blaire asks, being her nosey self.
“I actually live on the beach as well,” Ethan says. His hand lands on my thigh and he squeezes it softly. “I have a townhouse about fifteen minutes from the club, over in Margate City, and I’m hoping I can convince Nevaeh to move in with me.”
Blaire’s grin widens and I gasp in shock.
“Really? Well, the timing would be perfect since I’m going to be moving in with Victor.”
Ethan nods, telling me he overheard us talking outside the club.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” he says to me like he didn’t just drop some crazy bomb. “Stay out of trouble.”
Before I can argue or ask him what the heck is going on, his lips connect with mine. The kiss is slow and gentle and all-consuming, and when he breaks the kiss and walks away, I’m left breathless and confused.
“Wow,” Blaire says. “That man has it bad.”
“We barely know each other,” I argue.
“Well, whatever he knows is enough to have him wanting you to move in with him. How did you meet him anyway?
“At the club.”
Blaire’s brows furrow and then realization dawns on her. “He’s the guy from the club… The one you kissed?”
“Yeah.” I nod, taking a sip of my drink.
“How did you find him? Why didn’t you tell me?” Blaire frowns. “I thought you were staying at a beach house that your brother’s friend owns. Wait, was Ethan friends with your brother?”
Shit! I mean shoot… whatever, shit! I shouldn’t have opened this can of worms. How the heck am I going to explain this?
“Nevaeh.” Blaire puts her hand on top of mine. “I feel like we’re growing apart. I used to be the person you told everything to. Is this because I’ve been spending more time with Victor?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Yes, Ethan knew Stephen. It’s how I ran into him again.” Not a complete lie. “We’ve been spending time together and I wasn’t sure where it was heading, so I didn’t want to say anything until I knew.” Also, not a lie.
“Okay.” Blaire smiles. “But you know I’ll always be here for you, right? Even when we’re living separately. I’m only a phone call away.”
“I know.” I down the rest of my drink while we sit in silence for a few minutes.
“Wanna dance?” I suggest, knowing Blaire loves to dance and it will make her happy and hopefully take her mind off everything I’m hiding.
“Absolutely.” Blaire stands from her stool and takes my hand in hers.
We spend the next hour or so drinking and dancing. Victor doesn’t really like to dance, so it’s mostly just Blaire and me on the dance floor. Rosco remains close, but still allows to me to have fun. Blaire hasn’t asked about him, so I don’t bother to explain. She probably just thinks Ethan is overprotective.
As I’m shaking my butt to Justin Bieber singing about being the one, strong arms wrap around me from behind. I jump, my eyes darting over to Rosco, who’s sporting a small grin on his usually serious face. His grin tells me it’s Ethan behind me, allowing me to relax in his embrace. When his hand moves my hair to the side, and his mouth moves to my ear, nibbling on the bottom of my earlobe, I breathe in the sweet yet masculine smell of Ethan’s cologne, only further confirming it’s him who’s touching me.
“Move in with me,” he whispers, shocking and startling me.
“You were serious?” I ask, turning in my place to face him.
His hands snake around my backside, and he moves to the rhythm of the music with a sexy smirk splayed on his lips. “Move in with me,” he repeats, pushing his knee through the middle of my legs and grinding his thigh against my center. The movement hits me in all the right spots, making it hard to converse.