Ethans Fal (18 page)

“Really, because most of these arseholes Ethan has let in here, you don’t know and are drunk as fuck
and
will be spilling onto the beach any time now.” He leans his full weight against the door.

“What’s that got to do with Ada? If she wants to leave, she can leave.” Ethan’s clipped tone is full of open hostility. I can’t catch a break; no angry men for nearly four years and now two in one night.

“And I want to leave.” I fire a determined look at Buddy and try my best to ignore the pent up boiling rage of male next to him.

“Look, Ada, after that little dance just now, there is not a male in this room that wouldn’t want to….” He doesn’t finish his sentence but his meaning is crystal clear. He waggles his finger up and down my body uncomfortably. “Hell, there’s not a woman either, judging by what Sky has just told me. So, how about you do me a huge personal favour and let me walk you home.”

“If anyone is walking her home it’s me.” Ethan practically growls and stares Buddy down. I’m too tired for a pissing contest, which I know isn’t Buddy’s intention, but I also don’t need Ethan escorting me to my bed under the stars.

“No and no!” I look pointedly at both of them, but my expression softens at Buddy’s concern. He grabs my hand and discreetly presses his keys into the palm.

“Please, I’m staying here tonight.” He holds my gaze until I give a little nod of acceptance. He eases off the door, but Ethan slaps it shut.

“Do you mind telling me what
that
was all about?” He wedges his way between Buddy and me, and practically blocks out the horizon with his looming frame. “Why has Buddy just given you the key to the bar? Don’t you have a home? It was
you
yesterday morning on the beach at dawn. Do you sleep on the beach, Ada? Why do you sleep there? Are you homeless? I thought Buddy was being dramatic Trying to get me to change my mind about you keeping your job.” He asks and answers his own question. He can’t contain the shock in his voice. His face is a picture of incredulity and pity. I hate the pity in his expression most of all. It irritates the fuck out of me and I snap at him.

“Tell you what, Ethan, lets kick all these good people out and we can have an all-night heart to heart.” I barely finish my sentence when he grips my hand to stop me leaving. His fingers entwine with mine and his hold is more than secure…with my rings, it’s painful. He pulls me across the room to where the music is blasting and pulls the plug. Shit!

There is a surreal moment of complete silence when people look at each other with utter confusion, and check for the apocalypse. What follows is a blur of irritated, argumentative, and finally, resigned and evicted revellers. The room is clear, except for Buddy and us; Ethan’s fingers still hold on so tight, he has me pulled against his side. I hand Buddy his keys when he approaches, his easy smile has a tinge of concern but he is not so troubled now that he knows I won’t be sleeping vulnerable on the beach. How safe I am in this apartment remains to be seen; there are more than the elements I need to fear in here and my tummy clenches with the uncertainty.

“Later man, great party.” Buddy gives a wry smile and Ethan stiffens when he leans in to kiss my cheek. Once the front fire door takes its sweet time to close, I find that I’m nervous and a little speechless. I pull my hand and after a frown flashes across Ethan’s handsome features, he lets me go. I wrap my hands around my tummy, feeling the intensity of his gaze and all his unspoken questions. The silence is excruciating, so I start to clear the empty bottles, just to do something– anything.

“Stop that.” I look up at him when he takes the bottle from my hand. He threads his other hand around my neck holding the pressure firm, his eyes–oh, God, his eyes–are the darkest chocolate and just as bitter sweet.

“Ethan I…I can’t.” I bite my lips together to stop myself. He traces the thin line of my lips with his thumb.

“I held up my end of the deal, Ada.” He takes my shoulders and walks me back to his sofa, bending around to make a quick sweep of the debris before he gently sits me down. “Wait there.” I get a deep churning inside that feels a lot like relief with a mix of terror. Ethan returns with two glasses of brandy by the smell of them and he then carefully arranges me so I am comfortably positioned between his legs, sideways so he can maintain his potent, probing stare. He clinks his glass against mine and draws in a deep breath, like
he
is suddenly nervous.

“I’m adopted.” My mouth pauses at the lip of the glass and drops. I did not see that coming. “I’m telling you this because everybody has a story and sometimes when you share it’s not nearly as bad as you think it’s going to be.” He slowly sips his drink and I find I am drawn in by the soft turn in his voice and the thoughtful, distant expression on his face. “I don’t know who my birth parents are and considering where I was found, I count myself lucky. I count myself even more fortunate that I had the parents I did growing up. Social Services found me when the police raided the brothel where I lived. I actually remember being really upset because they were taking me away from the ladies who were really kind and loving to me. I didn’t care so much about the guy who ran the place. He was an arsehole, even if I didn’t know the word at the time. I knew enough and he was a real piece of shit to treat the women so badly, when they were nothing but kind to me. I was five years old when I was rescued, but I only have sketchy memories of my life and none of it was before my time at the brothel.

“That was my life and it was all I remember, that and feelings of being scared, often hungry but also safe. It wasn’t love but I definitely felt cared for and I cared right back.” He knocks back his drink and pointedly looks at me. That ‘norm of reciprocity’ would dictate it’s my turn now and surprisingly find I want to tell my tale. But how can I, when I have so much to lose? If my father ever found me. I doubt I would see the light of day again. This fear alone has stopped me from going to the police to try and find Pip. What kind of mother does that make me? More concerned with her own freedom. How could anyone think that this is okay? Ethan might pity my situation, but at least he doesn’t look at me with disgust and disappointment.

“You can’t choose your family, that’s for sure.” I try to keep my tone light-hearted with a slight smile. but it catches on my lips at his sombre façade. I avert my eyes because I can’t bare the scrutiny. I try to wriggle off his lap, but he clamps his arm around me and grips my hip. “I know what you are doing…it’s just….” This just feel too raw. He has opened up so freely and I am unable to give him what he wants. “My situation isn’t so bad, Ethan. I live here, in a house for maybe eight months out of the year. It’s just the summer time that gets a little tricky, which is fine because I know I am lucky–”

“But why?” He interrupts and I let out a heavy sigh. He looks fixed and determined to get some answers and I am tired enough to give them, so I decide to give him something and hope it’s enough.

“I ran away and I need to stay that way. It’s complicated and it’s better if you don’t know.” I can feel him stiffen and I think maybe that hasn’t placated him at all. If anything, he looks more exasperated. “Ethan, I appreciate your concern and telling me everything you have. I don’t know what to say.” I confess.

“You could tell me what you think is so bad, you can’t tell me. How about that?” He coaxes with a tender smile, but I close my eyes at the possibility that I could expose myself in this way.

“I can’t, but I’m a big girl and this really has nothing to do with you.” I move quickly enough to leave his lap but his sad eyes make me stop. I run my hand through his long floppy fringe. “Ethan, if I could tell you, I would. You seem like a really nice guy, but–”

“I’ll take that.” His change in mood is abrupt and his smile is infectious. It instantly lifts the dark cloud that had descended. He cups my cheeks and plants an exaggerated, sloppy kiss on my shocked lips. “Hey, if I can go from being hated to really nice guy in forty-eight hours, how long do you think it will be before you can trust me with all your secrets?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he has me in a tight hug that rivals Buddy’s for comfort, but exceeds his in intimacy. “Let me show you to your room.”

“Ethan, this place is a tip. Shouldn’t we clean up first?” I look around at the party explosion that is his living room: upturned bottles, food scattered, half empty glasses, all evidence of everyone’s hasty retreat. There are cushions and items of clothing all over the floor, and the kitchen doesn’t have an inch of clear surface. He looks around as if seeing it for the first time, his shoulders sag a little. “It won’t take that long; it’s mostly surface shit. I’ll get the bin bags, you straighten the furniture.”

He nods and we set about restoring what is a truly stunning apartment to its pre-party glory. Ethan puts the music back on but selects a more chilled play list. Jesus, people are filthy; the surface clean takes a couple of hours, and I feel sticky and a little gross when we finally finish in the early hours.

I attempt to stretch my back out, clicking the tired bones when Ethan takes my hand and spins me into a twist, spiralling me into his arms. Kit Klane’s very sexy Fingerprints drifts through the speakers and Ethan leads me in a slow sensual dance that starts with a practice two step around the room and progresses to an improvised dance that feels more like sex with my clothes on. His hands cup my curves–hold and release–he pulls me tighter still. His last spin slams me into his solid body, all hard muscle and sexual tension. He drops to his knees and at a tortuous pace and with devilishly nimble fingers, he picks the hem on my dress up and works it in time with the music up my quaking body. My hands are pulled high above my head and he holds them there with one hand, dropping my dress to the floor.

“Ada?” His lips kiss my neck, his breath scorches my skin.

“Hmm….” I am lost in this man.

“You smell like stale beer.” His voice is horse and it takes a moment to distinguish the words from the sensual tone.

“I do?” I snicker, and I can feel his lips curl into a smile on my skin in between kisses.

“We both do. I can’t fuck you like this.” His words are raw and I shudder at the inevitability in his tone. “We need to shower first.” He clarifies; my mouth dries, my heart stops, and I pool with liquid heat between my legs.

The steam fills the small ensuite off Ethan’s bedroom, and my skin prickles with a million bumps, the tiny hairs fire with chilled electricity. He pulls his shirt over his head and unbuttons his loose, frayed jeans that already hang low from his hips. His sculpted chest undulates with every deep and steady breath. My mouth waters now at the clearly defined V that disappears into his pants. I think this isn’t a good idea; nothing good can come of this, and I reason that now is not the time for thinking. I step to him, almost naked and unable to hide my desire. Hard peaked nipples, short pants of breath, and a painful ache building from the base of my spine. He can’t see the last one but his eyes register everything else with unashamed lust. I tug his last button loose, then ease his jeans and pants down his hips and over his rock hard erection. He kicks his clothes free and is a fucking glorious sight .His breathtaking smile is both wicked and tender.

“Don’t think about this, Ada.” His voice is soothing even if his tone is firm. “Just do what your body wants… what it is crying out to do.” He punctuates each sentence with kisses on my bare skin, as he peels the last of my clothes from my body. “Don’t think…just do.” He tips my chin, intense eyes blazing with fire capture and see right through me. I know I am going to burn.

He doesn’t hesitate. I don’t think he doubts my desire matches his, but he covers my mouth with such passion I don’t get the chance to voice a reservation even if I did. I barely gasp my last breath before everything else that happens between us is shared. Our breaths and our bodies; I have no intention of stopping. If I were thinking at this moment, I know that would be a red flag worry but like Ethan had said, I am not thinking, I am doing. He laces his fingers through mine and draws me under the rainfall shower and into his embrace. He presses his forehead against mine, rivers of clear water stream down our faces. Rivulets drip from his full lips and I capture their sweet taste with the waterfall. My hands greedily explore his body like they have never touched anything quite so perfect. His deep groan rumbles in his chest when I drag my fingernails, scoring the skin down his torso. His cock twitches and his hips rock into my hold when I grab him hard in my hand.

“Fuck!” He throws his head back, eyes shut against the down pour. He looks down at me and I don’t think I have ever felt so desired as I do at this moment. His mouth collides with mine and I drop the hold I have on him at the fierceness and impact that sends me crashing into the cool sandstone tile. The pain shakes my bones but his tongue delves so deep–sweet and demanding. A heavenly dance that steals any other thought; no pain, no panic, just passion. God, there is nothing better than a perfect, heart-stealing kiss. Is that what he’s doing? Is he stealing my heart? I whimper when he pulls back, biting my lip but not to the point of pain, just enough to be a distraction to my troublesome thoughts. He has one hand cupped around my neck squeezing and gripping into my hair, which hangs limply in drenched strands. His other hand is attentive in its ministrations to my pebbled nipple. The ache it satisfies there only intensifies lower down between my legs and I have to squeeze my thighs together and fight to swallow the begging words that are just poised on the tip of my tongue.

“What do you need, Ada? Angel, tell me what you need?” His lips curl to the side with a knowing grin. He’s going to make me beg. My jaw clenches and he raises a challenging brow. “Really? You’re not going to tell me? Interesting. So, that must mean you trust me enough to know exactly what your body needs. I’m flattered.” His hand traces down my side and causes a full body spasm, and when he hits a tickle spot I never knew I had, I almost collapse on myself like one of the wooden animal toys you push from the bottom to get the same reaction.