Bad in Bed (20 page)

“I’ll get dressed.” Ethan brushed his fingers
against hers. “We’ll go back to my place. Talk this over some more.”

So he could break the news that they were over?
That he was calling a halt? She didn’t think so. She would end it before he
did. At least then she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d had the upper
hand.

She shook her head. “I’m going home. I’ve had
enough too, Ethan. And Marco was right. I won’t give my scars another thought.
If I can keep two men satisfied between the sheets—and for the last month
that’s exactly what I’ve done—I can pretty much do anything. That’s how it
works, isn’t it? So again as Marco said, your mission is well and truly
accomplished. Now please, unlock the door.”

His jaw went tight and she thought he’d argue,
but he stuck the key in the lock then tapped the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll
grab my car keys. This isn’t over, Amber.”

Oh, it was. Amber’s heart dropped to her knees
as she hitched the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. How could she have known
when the evening began that it would end so miserably? Had she known, she would
have made damn sure she’d driven her own car and not let Ethan pick her up in
his. Then she could have made her escape without having to drag it out all over
again as he drove her home.

God. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear
being in such close proximity to Ethan knowing that they were finished. That
she’d never feel his touch again, hear his voice, inhale his scent, savor his
taste.

Her heart squeezed and her eyes stung. No. She
couldn’t bear it.

She waited as Ethan disappeared behind the bar
and when she heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs, she turned the door key
and vanished into the night.

Chapter Thirteen

Never one to slack off at work, Amber seriously
considered pulling a sickie. Sleep had eluded her, her mind playing through the
events of the previous night trying to pinpoint the moment everything changed.
Except there was no defining moment. It had been building for a while. The only
thing she was certain of was that she and Ethan were definitely over. How could
anything be salvaged after he’d told Marco he’d had enough of her and wanted to
finish it?
 

She ached to weep, but the tears wouldn’t come.
Somehow she felt too miserable even for the relief a good crying jag might
offer.
 

It was hard to contemplate that she’d never
feel Ethan’s arms around her again, would never hear him whisper soft words of
affection into the night as they lay entwined. While Trevor had taken every
opportunity to crush her, to run her into the ground, Ethan had always tried to
build her up, increase her confidence in herself. She’d always be grateful to
him for that.

The sun beat down, heralding another hot, humid
day as she parked her car and then walked into the blessedly air-conditioned
foyer of the building which housed her office. She had a packed workload, which
was both a blessing and a curse. Her brain simply wouldn’t function.

As she made for the stairs, she noticed a
construction cone indicating that the stairs were temporarily blocked for
repair work.

Sighing, she turned and headed for the
elevators, staring at their steel doors as if something terrible lurked beyond.
She checked her watch noting it was ten minutes until her first appointment.
She took a fortifying breath. If she didn’t want to be late, she had no option
but to pull on her big girl pants and take the damn elevator.

This morning of all mornings she couldn’t face
being in the exact same car where she’d first met Ethan—talk about rubbing salt
in the wound—so she’d wait for another.

Her hand trembled a little as she pressed the
call button. Thinking constantly of Ethan seemed to have that effect on her.
She wondered where he was right then and if he’d thought about her, about them.
If he did it was probably with relief. Damn it, she couldn’t shake his words to
Marco. They kept repeating in her brain like a mantra:
It’s run its course and I can’t do it anymore. I need to call a halt
.

As the elevator doors hummed open, Amber
glanced up. With another breath and a determination to keep her thoughts firmly
on her meeting and off Ethan, she stepped inside.
 
Wanting to wallow in her solitude, she was mildly
irritated when she turned and someone stepped in next to her.

A familiar masculine scent assaulted her
nostrils and made her senses reel. Her heart thumped once, stopped, and then
started pumping like a barge as her mouth went dry.

Ethan.

He looked down at her, his expression giving
nothing away as he pushed the button for the top floor. “What the hell were you
thinking, taking off like that last night?”

Amber swallowed, her throat muscles squeezing
painfully as her heart continued its frenzied dance. “No point sticking around.
We both said what we needed to say.”

“And you preferred hailing a cab rather than
ride with me.” He pushed his hands into the back pockets of black jeans, the
muscles of his chest expanding beneath a crisp white tee shirt.

“How did you know I took a cab?”

One eyebrow lifted sardonically. “You think I’d
let you go off into the night and not follow you? By the way, when you go out
at night, you should leave a light on so people think someone’s home.”

As her stomach performed somersaults, her heart
broke. He was so thoughtful, so protective and kind. She loved him. Oh God, she
loved him. So much. How could it all have gone so wrong? “I usually do leave a
light on.” She didn’t expand by telling him that last night she’d forgotten in
her haste to get to see him.

He looked at her for long moments, a deep frown
narrowing his glorious blue eyes. Without taking his gaze from hers, he reached
out and stabbed the stop button.

The lights flickered, the car lurched, and
instinctively Amber flung her arm to the wall to anchor herself. “What the hell
are you doing? I’ve got a meeting and I’m already late.”

“I’ve got things to say.”

She swallowed, unsure if her nerves were due to
the elevator’s stall or Ethan’s close proximity as he moved in. “Your views were
perfectly clear last night. You want to end it. I get that.”

His eyebrows drew together in a deep scowl.
“And you’re pissed, I get that.” He drove his hand through his hair. “I can’t
help that I don’t want Marco’s fucking hands on you anymore.”

Her temper spiked. He didn’t want her, but he
didn’t want Marco to have her either? “Don’t try and make this all about Marco.
It’s not his fault.”

“It doesn’t stop me wanting to kick his balls
in.”

“Well, you have no say in it. If he and I want
to continue seeing each other, that’s our business. If you want out of the
arrangement, that’s your prerogative.”

“He’s not putting his hands on you, Amber.”

“That’s not your call, is it? All you wanted
was to help my confidence in the sack, remember? Why would you have a problem
that you succeeded?”
 

“That was only one of the reasons.”

“Oh, really? There were more?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “I
thought it would keep me from getting too close, okay? That having Marco in the
mix would let me keep you at arm’s length. Stop me falling for you.” His laugh
was mocking. “Got that one wrong.”

Stop him falling for
her? Got that one wrong?

Her thoughts fired in all directions, her brain
aching as she tried to fathom what he meant, how it had to do with him wanting
to call a halt to their relationship. The only clear interpretation was way too
thrilling to contemplate. “What are you saying, Ethan?”

He swallowed, took a breath. “That I fell for
you anyway. All the damn way.”

Her chest squeezed even more, tightening the
muscles between her ribcage to painful proportions. “You—you said you couldn’t
do it anymore. You wanted to end things.”

“Yeah.”

“You meant with Marco? The threesome?”

His frown deepened. “What the hell else do you
think I meant?”

Laughter born of relief bubbled in her chest,
releasing the tightness there. She wanted to kiss him, but she also wanted to
slap him to Christmas. “You mean I’ve spent a sleepless night trying to work
out where we went wrong and all the time you were tired of the threesome? Damn
it, Ethan. You can be a real jerk.”

His shoulders rolled back. “Jerk or not, we’re
not inviting Marco back into our bed. Just not happening, green eyes. From now
on it’s only you and me between the sheets.”

She matched his glare, not wanting to give him
the satisfaction of knowing she was so damn fine with not inviting Marco back
into their bed, she was positively glowing. “First, you don’t get to call the
shots as far as my sex life goes and, second, if I wanted to carry on things
with Marco we talk about it, negotiate. You don’t just make decisions that
affect me without talking to me first.”

Adamant, he shook his head. “I won’t share you.
Not anymore.”

He said it with such resolute intent, any
residual resistance to his caveman tactics dissipated. Secretly, she loved his declaration,
loved that he could be so possessive, so adamant that it revert back to just
the two of them. She wanted that, too. So much.

“Why now?” She was digging and she knew it, but
she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Not when her pulse was hammering in
her veins and her heart was in her throat. “What happened this weekend that was
so different to all the others?”

He drew in a breath but said nothing.

Amber wasn’t about to fill the silence that
followed, so she waited. She’d almost given up hope of his response, when he
took another long breath.

“It was seeing you and Marco together. Without
me. It pissed me off.”

She recalled having asked Marco to wait when
Ethan had been in the shower. Remembered how she’d wanted him there, holding
her. Had he felt the same? Had he felt as bereft without her in his arms as she
had been?

“Why was that a problem for you?” She couldn’t
help pushing him. Not until she’d wrung every word from his beautiful mouth. “We’ve
all been together every weekend for the past month.”

“That’s just it. We’ve been together, and damn
it I’ve been having a hard enough time with that lately as it is. But I was
always there when Marco took you. Watching him alone with you? It was… It reminded
me of…”

When he looked away, Amber stepped toward him
and touched his arm. “Reminded you of what?”

The tightness in his jaw, the hurt in his eyes,
indicated that whatever memory he battled affected him on a deep and painful
level.

Amber ran her hand gently up and down his arm,
a supportive gesture that she hoped would prompt him to continue.

He looked back at her. “My mother left when I
was a kid. After that, my father took to the bottle and the brothel.”

A sharp knot curled in her chest. “I’m so
sorry, Ethan.”

He shrugged that off. “He’d come home drunk and
shove me out of the bed so he could use it to fuck his latest squeeze. I’d hear
them. Once I snuck a look inside the room, wondering what all the grunting was
about and I saw them going at it.”

Despite wanting to comfort him, the
consequences of what he said trickled through her understanding. She dropped
her hand from his arm. “Seeing Marco with me somehow reminded you of what you
saw with your father?”

“It ripped me in two. Brought back the
memories, the fear, the…disgust.”

Amber stepped back, feeling as if an arrow had
pierced the dead centre of her heart, but Ethan moved in as her back hit the
elevator wall. “I wanted to haul him off you, cut off his dick given half a
chance.”

“You wanted the three of us, Ethan,” she
reminded him tersely. “You set the whole thing up.”

“Yeah.” He laid his hands on her shoulders.
“And seeing you with Marco was nothing like my father, not even close. Yet what
thundered through me was just as potent, as destructive. I hated my father for
how he treated those women. I hated Marco in that moment for what he was doing
to you.” He shook his head before she could interrupt. “I know it’s not the
same. Shit, I know that. Marco’s a player, but he treats women with respect.”

“So do you.” The sharp ache of insult faded as
Amber looked at him and saw how much it cost him to battle old wounds; the dull
look in his eyes, the tension in his face, the heavy set of his shoulders. She
raised her hand and stroked along the tightness in his jaw. “Is that why you
don’t invite women back to your place? Into your bed? Because of how it was
with your father?”

“Yeah. Stupid.”

“No. It’s not. Even so, you’re not your father,
Ethan. You never will be.”

“Thanks.”

Because she feared he was merely paying lip
service to her declaration, she laid her hand on his arm. “You’ve always made
me feel special. It didn’t matter if we were alone or with Marco. You made me
feel as if I were the most desirable woman in the world.”