Bad in Bed (12 page)

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Authors: Faye Avalon

BOOK: Bad in Bed
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Ethan, it seemed, was on a roll. “He thinks
you’re hot. That you like him.”

“I do.”

“That’s not exactly what I want to hear right
now.”

Now Amber laughed. How was it that in the
depths of her gloom he could make her laugh? “I like you more.”

“Good answer.”

He kissed her, a gentle kiss that teased her
tongue, her lower lip.

When he broke away, he looked her right in the
eye and frowned. “Don’t let an asshole like your ex make you feel anything less
than what you are. Awesome.”

She kissed him back, a light, easy kiss that
warmed her insides a little and took away some of the chill. “You make me feel
awesome.”

“Another good answer.” His hand slid to her
breast. “How about we go back to my place and you can make
me
feel awesome?”

She laughed again, but the chill hadn’t
completely disappeared. Beneath it, there was a niggling feeling nurtured by
what those women had said, that Ethan was basically a nice guy. Nice guys
wouldn’t make a woman feel anything less than perfect, even if they thought it.
Maybe Ethan really was simply being nice. Maybe he really did find her
disfigurement repulsive, but was too good a man to let her see it.

Amber pushed the ridiculous thought away. If
that were the case, why in hell would he continue to want her? He would have made
his excuses after that first time.

Despite her deliberations, Amber couldn’t shake
the feeling that everything had changed, and her new found confidence was again
plummeting to the floor. She knew Ethan was right and she shouldn’t let other
people’s comments get to her—hell, she knew it herself—but maybe she was still
too raw to really move on.

“I just want to go home.”

“Only if I get to come with you.”

She wanted that. She wanted Ethan. But right
then, she desperately needed to wallow. “I’m not in the mood. Don’t be angry.”

“Not angry. Disappointed maybe. Pissed that you
let idiot comments affect you, hurt you.”

“I’m working through it. Really, I am. Just not
quite there yet. Maybe I can call you tomorrow?”

She thought he might press, might argue, try to
convince her to let him come home with her and spend the night. Instead,
despite looking a little put out, he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

Ethan waited until after five the next
afternoon before calling Amber. Since the guys had clocked off, he was alone
with paperwork. He felt pissed she hadn’t rung him yet. Even more pissed that
she’d been affected by those fool women.

She was beautiful, smart, and a goddess in the
sack. Why the hell couldn’t she see it? Because her damn fuckwit ex had slept
with her best friend, then had the audacity to lay the blame at Amber’s door.

While he tried to be sympathetic and understand
where she was coming from, he couldn’t quite bury the overwhelming need to
shake her out of it, make her see herself through his eyes. She’d already admitted
that he made her feel good. Awesome, she’d said. But he wasn’t convinced she
truly believed in her power to make him hard as a rock simply by existing. He
had to make her believe it, but he was damned if he knew how.

She’d see right through flowers, chocolates,
sexy underwear. If fact, the latter might only serve to make her consider he
was trying to make her more beautiful because he didn’t think she already was.
Shit. He was clueless as to how to play this.

Sitting back in his chair, he fiddled with his
pencil as he thought it through. A weekend away where he could keep her in bed
the whole time and prove how fantastic she was? Sex toys? A few porno movies?

Damn it. That would probably shove her right
over the edge into self-flagellation mode. He could imagine she’d spend the
time comparing herself to the air-brushed, silicone-filled beauties on the
screen and come up lacking.

So porno movies were a definite no-no, but sex
toys were a possibility. He dismissed the idea almost before he’d finished forming
the thought. Amber might believe he needed some enhancements to make him get
off because she didn’t do it for him.

Shit. This was making him crazy.

So deep in thought was he that he sent the
pencil flying across the room when his phone rang. “
Monroe
.”

“You want to work on your telephone answering
technique or get yourself a receptionist, buddy boy.”

Marco’s deep laugh only hiked up Ethan’s temper
levels.

“It’s after five. I’ve clocked off for the
night.” Ethan tried to ignore the way his breath had hitched in that
millisecond between answering the call and hearing Marco’s dulcet tones. He’d
hoped it might be Amber.

“With no expectation of getting Amber between
the sheets tonight, by the sound of your voice.”

Despite Marco’s razzing, Ethan noted the hint
of concern in his friend’s statement. “She was supposed to call.”

“What? You have a fight?”

“Not exactly.” He wasn’t about to tell Marco
what had happened. Amber wouldn’t thank him for it.

There was a long silence, then Marco said,
“Maybe I can get in there fast, before she has time to change her mind and call
you.”

Ethan might have been pissed, but he knew the
difference between Marco being an asshole and Marco attempting to lighten the
load. He took a long breath as an idea, not altogether pleasing, took root.
“Are you just trying to provoke me, or are you really interested?”

Marco’s silence gave Ethan time to suffer the
hot burning sensation building in his chest and do his best to ignore it.

Marco’s answer, when it came, held the
cautionary tone of a man shoved into a corner. “Both?”

“For God’s sake, Marco. Answer a simple
question.”

“Fuck. Give me a break.”

Ethan had to take another breath, though his
throat ached with the effort. “Then answer the damn question.”

Still Marco hesitated and Ethan could imagine
him working through what he thought Ethan’s reaction would be to his answer,
before admitting in a careful, quiet tone, “I’m interested.”

Ethan’s stomach jumped and his blood heated.
Well, he’d started it, he might as well see it through. “If I set this up, it’s
a one time only deal.”

“Shit, man. Are you for real? I thought you
were seriously into her.”

“I am.”

“Then what’s going on? You’re actually giving
me permission to fuck your girlfriend?”

Ethan almost jumped down the phone to
personally strangle the life out of his friend. Until Marco had spelled it out
in such glorious prose, he’d thought he maybe could go through with it. But
now?

He took the time he needed to steady his racing
heart, his pounding blood before he trusted himself to respond. “I’m talking
about you joining us in the sack. Like I said, one time only.”

“What the hell for? Hey, that last time was
just some fun. We all three of us knew that. And while she was seriously hot, I
don’t remember either of us chomping at the bit for anything more. But Amber?”

Ethan’s blood had reached boiling point, but
now he felt chilled. He had to work for every breath as the muscles of his
chest squeezed. “She’s got this confidence problem.”

“What kind of confidence problem? And how will
us making like a sandwich solve it?”

His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. Why
did this have to be so bloody difficult? He wanted to tell Marco the truth, but
couldn’t risk breaking Amber’s confidence. “She found her bastard ex in bed
with someone else and said bastard blamed her for pushing him there.”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah.” Say what you like about Marco, but he
always erred on the side of honor. “I want to make her feel special. Want to
give her a night to remember, to build up her confidence.”

“And you can’t do that by yourself?”

Shit. Why couldn’t the moron just go along with
it? He was offering him Amber on a plate. No strings. Most men would bite off
his arm for the opportunity. Except, Ethan realised, he wouldn’t be offering it
to any other man. Only Marco. The only man he really trusted to do this. He
would never hurt Amber, never treat her with anything but respect and
consideration. Between the two of them, they’d make Amber feel like the goddess
she was.

“Hey, Ethan?” Marco’s tone was low, cautionary.
“This confidence thing? Is it anything to do with her scars?”

Ethan tensed. “Why do you say that?”

He could almost see Marco shrug his shoulders.
“Just noticed she seems a tad self-conscious of them. Pulling her sleeves down,
stuff like that.”

What the hell. Ethan wouldn’t be giving much
away. Any fool would notice Amber’s preoccupation with those scars. “She thinks
they’re ugly, again courtesy of her ex. He told her most men would find them
objectionable.”

“Then he’s a dickhead.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“She’s a fucking babe. No offence.”

“Seeing as I agree, no offence taken.”

Again Marco fell silent for several breaths.
“Are you sure about this?”

Hell. Ethan wasn’t sure about anything, except
making Amber happy. “Like I said, one time only.”

“What does she say about this?”

“Haven’t broached the subject yet. Didn’t even
know if I could go through with it.” He had to take a breath. “Still don’t.”

“Sounds to me like you’d better think it
through some more.”

Ethan huffed a laugh. “Not like you to pass up
on an opportunity.”

“Not passing. Just don’t want my throat ripped
out when you realize you don’t want my hands on your girl after all.”

“I told her.” Ethan took a few moments,
wondering what in hell substance he’d absorbed that had him spilling his guts.
“About that threesome you and I had.”

He heard Marco’s intake of breath. “Shit. Why
would you tell her that?”

“Good sex loosened my tongue.”

“Damn. Would need to be excellent sex for that
to happen. Maybe I should take you up on that offer before you change your
mind.”

“I took her to my place.”

“Your place?” Marco’s voice raised a few
octaves. “Are you serious?”

“She stayed til morning.”

Marco’s hiss as he sucked in air added to
Ethan’s growing sense of panic. “Fuck. You’ve seriously got it bad.”

Seeing as his throat had closed as if squeezed
by an invisible fist, Ethan remained silent. What the hell was wrong with him?
Getting his pants in a twist, as his mother would say, over a woman. And one he
barely knew.
 

“Okay. Just playing devil’s advocate here.”
Marco’s voice nudged Ethan back before he could sink deeper into maudlin
territory. “You planning on doing things the same as before?”

Ethan sat back in his chair and picked up
another pencil. “Yeah.”

“Tonight?”

“Why not?”

“You’re sure? You don’t want to think about it
some more?”

If he thought about it some more he might not
go through with it. Okay he was doing it for Amber, to make her see that she
was special and damn well worthy of having two men hot for her. But he was
doing it for himself, too.

Apart from the obvious enjoyment factor—and he
had to admit the threesome thing had been pretty hot—he needed to prove to
himself that Amber was simply another woman that hit his lust target. He needed
to prove that he could enjoy her and they could share some good times before
bidding each other farewell when their mutual lust levels declined and it was
time to move on. He didn’t need this touchy-feely stuff muddying the waters. If
he shared her with Marco, it would put things into perspective. Put
her
into perspective.

“I don’t need to think about it.” He threw the
pencil onto the desk as he leaned forward. “I’ll call Amber.”

When Ethan disconnected, he stared at the phone
for long moments. What if his suggestion scared Amber away? Rather than please
her, she might run a mile. Easy to make overtones that she found it hot, but
the reality of it?

He couldn’t forget the look in her eyes, the
expression on her face when he’d told her about the threesome and she’d said
that the woman they’d bedded must have been pretty special to have captured the
attention of two men at the same time.
Some woman
she’d said.

Neither could he forget the air of despondency
that followed, the way her eyes dulled and her smile faded. He’d known she’d
been contemplating her own sexual appeal and had for some fool reason found
herself lacking.

Damn. He would never understand the way the
female mind worked. All she had to do was look in the mirror, for God’s sake.
If that didn’t work, maybe she could consider how she gave him major orgasms
just by looking at him a certain way, let alone when her fingers, mouth or
pussy got busy.
 

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