The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers) (13 page)

Chapter Eleven

Ethan didn’t need to crack an eyelid to realize something in his world was very,
very
different, and it started and ended with the woman in his bed. The one he’d had amazing sex with.

Twice.

How his heart could sink and soar at the same time, he didn’t know, but the two directions tore at him to the point that he didn’t dare move, and not just because she
was so absolutely stunning lying there, dark hair a striking contrast against his white sheets. Her very presence was a striking contrast to what he’d become, and he had no idea what to make of what it meant or where he was going. It wasn’t as if they were going to be a thing—not with her poised to hit the road—but admitting that would be admitting to casual sex. He always assumed he’d one day move
on, but he never thought he’d turn his back on his wife for a fling.

A goddamned
fling
.

The reality of that made him sick.

Rue was gorgeous. Fearless.
Alive
.

And he wasn’t. She didn’t deserve that. The woman was boundless, and he’d said one good-bye too many. That knowledge didn’t stop him from wanting her any more than the guilt did, but as he watched her now, guilt was
strangely silent. Guilt was blown the fuck away by amazing sex.

“Ethan.”

He immediately found her eyes, and in them he saw endless possibilities. But those possibilities weren’t his. They were hers.

But she’d known that going in.

She’d never planned for them to be a thing. She carried condoms in her purse, for heaven’s sake, and while he in no way believed she jumped into
bed with every guy she met, he suspected the decision to have sex had to be less earth-shattering for her than it had been him.

That knowledge made him ache, but for all the wrong reasons.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick. “Hey.”

She greeted him with a sleepy smile. “I half expected you’d be gone.”

“From my own apartment?”

The grin took on a mischievous slant.
“Maybe from your bed. But look at you, still naked. I’m impressed.”

“I hope you were impressed before that,” he said dryly.

She sobered, the tiniest of nuances in her expression. Something he had no business noticing after less than two weeks. “There are a lot of things I could say,” she said, “but to be honest, I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

He forced a smile, then—because
he knew she’d see right past that—he brushed back a strand of her hair and let his thumb trail over her cheek. And he wondered how, with all she’d done with her mouth, her lips could still look so perfectly pink. He hadn’t guessed that luscious color could possibly be her natural shade. He hadn’t guessed a
lot
of things.

“Just say it,” he said. “Whatever it is, don’t soften it.”

“I
don’t think soft is much of a problem,” she said, her hand closing around him.

“And I don’t think that’s what you were worried about saying.” God, she wrecked him. He couldn’t have known ahead of time what he was getting into, but he should have. She was everything in bed that she was in life, only strikingly intimate. Everything wild and free about her had been
his
. And it terrified the
hell out of him.

“Okay, fine.” She spoke softly, staring up at him from his jumbled bedding. From his
pillow
. “I didn’t think you’d go through with it,” she said, “and I figured when you did, you’d hate yourself for it. And I figured it might be awkward.”

He hadn’t thought it awkward then, but it had just taken a turn in that direction. And the fact that she actively stroked him didn’t
do a whole lot to remedy that. But that didn’t stop him from getting hard.

Or wanting her.

“But it wasn’t,” she said softly. “It was amazing. Way too amazing for something that won’t last.”

And wasn’t that just the hell of it. He knew he couldn’t have her. He wasn’t ready for a relationship. He might have more questions about himself now than he’d ever had, but the one thing
he did know was he wasn’t ready to let go again. Which meant now was the time to do it. Only she clearly had something else in mind, so rather than run from her, he kissed her. Just drew her in, felt the fires set around them, and pushed on, kissing her deeper, pushing away the ache and the uncertainty, knowing it would be back in force.

Knowing that because he knew it was good-bye.

He snagged a condom from her stash and rolled it on as he crawled over her, and before he could over think it and change his mind, he drove into her. The searing heat felt more like electricity. Like a blinding, beautiful thing where she was damn tight and he was a part of her and nothing else mattered. Nothing else
existed
. Just every soft curve of a body so essentially female, he couldn’t see
her as anything less than perfect. He rocked against her, grinding that spot he knew she loved, while she clutched his hair, then she tore at the strands when he found her breast and sucked, hard. Despite his own body begging for the blessed relief of a frantic pace, he held on, pumping slow and thick, licking and sucking and driving harder, deeper, memorizing her every breath. She arched against
him, then sank into the mattress, whimpering, when he found her other breast, then her neck, then her mouth. And still he held on, filling her so slowly, he thought he’d break.

And then he did. Fuck all, he shattered. Shuddering and losing it and so blown away by the intensity of his own orgasm that he could do nothing but hold on to the woman who’d brought him there. He wasn’t sure if the
convulsions were hers or his, but either way they rocked through him, setting fire to his blood. Drowning him.

Awkward, hell.

It changed him.

He eased away from her, rolling over to land on his back. She didn’t move, other than to take his hand. It was enough.

It was
brutal
.

Because telling her they couldn’t do that again—not ever—didn’t seem like the best idea, he
eased from the bed, losing her hand in the process, and pulled on his jeans. He didn’t bother to zip them, nor did he make the mistake of lingering on her sleepy, sated smile. At least not after the first time his gaze landed on her beautiful, perfect face.

“Breakfast?” he asked.

She stared at him through heavily lidded eyes. “How are you even standing?”

Not standing.
Running
. “I think breakfast is the least I can do. Plus the dog probably needs to go on a walk, and at some point, I have to go to work. You’re off today, right?”

She sat and nodded. “I completely forgot about Shaggy being here. Don’t you dare tell her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Want to take her out? Grab something on the go?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Thirty minutes later, it kind of
was. Or it would have been if
perfect
wasn’t the last thing he needed. Walking down the street with her, holding coffee in one hand and bagels in the other, was comfortable. Too comfortable. He was grateful her hands were also full—one with Shaggy’s leash and the other with her iced coffee—because holding her was out of the question. He needed distance. He needed time to think. He needed…to make
up a work emergency. But that wouldn’t work without getting a text or a phone call, so he waited until they got to the park and she knelt to play with Shaggy to fire off a quick text to Liam.

Call me ASAP.

Minutes later, the phone rang.

“What’s up?” Liam asked.

Ethan waited a few seconds before replying, presumably enough time for Liam to tell him about some crisis, and
tried hard to ignore the questioning look on Rue’s face. “I’m on my way,” he finally said, ending the call before Liam could spit out a response.

“Something wrong?”

“They need me at work.” Uttering the lie made him feel like a complete ass, but admitting he couldn’t handle the aftermath would be worse. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t just sit there and drown any more than
he could expect her to save him. That part was over before it had begun.

It had to be for both their sakes.

Her brow furrowed. “I thought you were off until later.”

“You’d be amazed at how inconveniently things break down.” At least
that
part was true. He dug in his pocket for his key. “Do you mind taking Shaggy back when you’re ready? I have a spare key at the office, so I’ll
just get it from you later.”

“Sure thing,” she said brightly. A little
too
brightly. “We’ll make a girls’ day of it.”

“Thanks,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what the proper good-bye was for a fucking lie, and settled for kissing her cheek. Again, awkward. At least on his part. She looked kind of pissed. He couldn’t pinpoint what made him think that, which only made him
feel worse. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could read women, but he was a little
too
tuned into this one. A sudden urge to tell her the truth hit him hard. She’d understand, probably before he fumbled through half an explanation. But then she’d tell him to stop worrying and stop hiding and
live
. He admired that greatly about her, but that wasn’t him. Where she was impulsive, he was dedicated.

Where she was free, he’d flail.

“You’d better go,” she said, making him realize he’d just been standing there, staring at her.

He nodded and took the first couple of steps in reverse, not quite willing to turn his back on her. And then he had to, because that’s what casual sex people did. They walked away.

He probably walked faster than most.

The distance back to his
apartment wasn’t that great. Within minutes, he was back in the comfort of his truck. He fired it up and sat there for a while, eventually realizing he’d have to drive.

The trip wasn’t long enough.

He was at the office before he wanted to be. Inside, Liam looked up from the computer and back down again.

“That’s it?” Ethan asked.

Liam sat back, his gaze settling this time
on his brother. “I’m pretty sure I know what happened, and I’m not sure I want to hear the details, so yeah, that’s about it.”

Suspicion narrowed Ethan’s eyes. “What do you think happened?”

Liam shrugged, though despite the casual gesture, he pinned him down with a razor sharp stare. “I think you realized you were falling for her, probably after you had sex, and now guilt has you feeling
like hell.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” he said. The realization had toyed with him, but saying it out loud did funny things to his heart. “I feel guilty about
that
, but I don’t feel guilty about the, um…”

“The sex?”

“Yeah.” Admitting that had happened shifted something inside of him. The strange feeling wasn’t so much that the confession made the sex real. It was that the sex made
the
relationship
real. Not necessarily big, and certainly not forever, but definitely more than he’d bargained for when he’d asked her to the gala.

None of the horror Ethan felt was reflected in Liam. “She’s great, Ethan. Really great. Probably the last person I would have ever expected for you, but she’s right.”

“Right about what?” Ethan asked. Liam sounded suspiciously like he knew
something, but Ethan had been with Rue until the last thirty minutes. There was no way he could know
anything
.

“She’s right for you,” Liam said.

Ethan sank into a chair. “No, she’s not. I don’t know what I want at this point, but I do know what she wants, and that’s to leave.”

“Estelle wanted to leave, too, and look what happened there.”

Ethan could only wish it was as
easy for him as it was for Crosby and Estelle. “Estelle wanted to go home, and home just happened to be on the wrong coast. Rue wants to free dive off Antarctica, for heaven’s sake. I can’t sit here flipping through invoices knowing she’s out there like that.”

“Then go with her.”

“You’re hilarious. And not very helpful.”

Liam glared. “I called you and got you out of there, didn’t
I? Besides, you don’t want help. You want to be told you’re right, that you should absolutely give up on her because that’s easier than figuring out how to love someone again.”

The words stung, even though Liam was wrong. “I am right, though. She doesn’t want ties, and I’m just so damned tired of saying good-bye.”

Liam leveled a hard look. “Then don’t.”

Something terribly close
to defeat clawed through him. He really couldn’t win. “What do I do, then? Just turn my back and pretend she’s not leaving?”

Liam snorted. “Yeah, if that’s your way of getting around a good-bye, you go for it. Let me know how it works out for you.”

Ethan seriously needed a release valve or a punching bag. He needed an
out
. “You don’t get it. I’m going to have to let her go no matter
what.”

“That’s my point. Go think about that, Ethan, for a good long time. Try to figure it out
before
her flight leaves.”

Chapter Twelve

When Ethan walked into his apartment that evening, he was stunned to find Rue on his sofa. And instead of that vivacious smile she always wore, she fronted a proverbial
look that could kill
, and it settled on him with razor-sharp accuracy.

“Everything go okay this afternoon?” he asked.

“Oh, it was great. Shaggy had a blast. We took a nice long walk, during
which she mostly wallowed in the grass while I tried to figure out why a guy who gave me the most amazing sex of my life couldn’t look me in the eye after we got out of bed.”

He sank onto the sofa next to her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”

“I beg to differ.”

A smile found his lips. “Well, that’s good to know.”

She spun on the sofa so she sat backwards, almost
facing him, forcing him to look at her.

“You said you didn’t feel guilty,” she said, sounding less as if she wanted to kill him, “so what’s the problem?”

He looked at her, taking her in. Unsure of how he felt, or at least how to define it. He only knew that things would be a lot less complicated if she thought that house in Flatbush felt like home, but even that wouldn’t solve anything.
The woman who was content on that parcel of land wouldn’t be the one who’d taken him in a hot air balloon. She wouldn’t be the one with whom he’d shared his bed.
That
woman wouldn’t be the one he couldn’t get out of his head. But instead of trying to explain all that, he simply said, “I’m not a fling kind of guy.”

Understanding dawned in those bright blue eyes. “And I’m a fling. And I believe
we discussed this before the clothes came off.”

“So we did. And the reality is, you’re beautiful and amazing, and nothing and no one will ever hold you down.” The truth behind those words kind of hurt, but they highlighted everything he loved about her.

“And you’re sweet and thoughtful and intense in the best possible way. And what happened was a big step for you, and maybe you’ll
decide one day you regret it or maybe not. But it happened, and you can’t undo it. Don’t run from it.”

The logic was hard to argue with, the need to hold her impossible to explain. He didn’t know how to say he couldn’t risk caring about her—not when he was guaranteed to lose whatever they had. And thinking they had something at all made him feel like one of those losers who read too much
into anything, but he knew something was there. What it meant was another thing entirely.

“This thing between us won’t last,” he said. “I
can’t
.”

She touched his hand with a fingertip. Just enough for him to feel the contact, and not nearly enough to hold.
Fitting
. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” she said. “And besides, it already happened. You can enjoy it, or you can hide from
it, but I vote for enjoying it. Because I did. Very much.”

“Me, too,” he said.

And wasn’t that the damned problem? For years, he’d been content to stay on the sidelines, first out of grief, and then out of avoidance. He didn’t want to risk falling in love when loving inevitably meant losing. But Rue had come in, tearing through his defenses when they should have been at their highest.
He knew pretending would be hard, but falling for her shouldn’t have been so easy.

She wasn’t looking at him but, rather, the small circle she traced on his hand.

“Did you really punch a shark?” he asked.

She glanced at him, startled. “I wouldn’t have said I had if I didn’t.”

“I was a bit distracted when you told that story. How did that happen?”

“I went swimming
with sharks.” When she caught his expression, she quickly continued. “Reef sharks. Generally harmless, but curious. One was swimming alongside me, and I guess my camera caught its attention because the next thing I knew, I was fighting to hold onto the camera.”

He pushed back a few strands of her wacky hair and thought a little too hard about how it had looked against his pillow. “So you
threw a punch?”

She scooted around, settling against him on the sofa. And she fit.

He tried not to notice.

“Pretty much,” she said. “I didn’t hurt him. I just startled him, but I think by then he’d figured out plastic wasn’t so tasty. In the meantime, I got a couple of incredible pictures.”

He shook his head, and her hair tickled his chin. “This fearless side of you. Is
it…I don’t know, real?”

As crazy as she was, he didn’t want her to say no. He didn’t want her to be any less than the woman he knew.

“I might be a bit of an adrenaline junkie,” she admitted, “but life is out there. Why sit on the sidelines?”

“When everything you need is on the sidelines,” he asked quietly, “why run?”

“I don’t think I’m running.” She chose that moment to
lace her fingers through his, holding on tight. “This is me. I’ve always been restless, and I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember to get away from this stupid New York royalty thing my mom is trying to sell. For years I didn’t know what else was out there, but then I happened to look out the window of an airplane. We were somewhere in the air between New York and Vancouver, and for as far as
I could see, there were rugged mountains. It was just this bare, vast wilderness, and I couldn’t think of anything else until I saw it for myself. My parents tried to give me everything,” she said. “I know that. But how do you know what
everything
is when you don’t know what else is out there?”

In those words, he saw a woman who would spend her entire life free. Knowing that sat heavily,
but he welcomed the ache. It was enough to convince him that this was one good-bye he’d feel good about, no matter how much it hurt, because she’d be alive in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to think too much about it. Not now. “Your accent,” he said. “If you were born and raised in New York, where did you get that accent?”

She snorted. “My mother
sent me to a speech class that promised to eradicate all traces of regionalism. It’s supposed to make a person sound polished and professional, like a newscaster.”

“I’m not sure it worked. I thought I caught a hint of the south in your voice.”

She looked up at him. He thought about kissing her, then he thought about how soon that choice would be taken from him.

Oblivious to his
thoughts, she grinned and said, “You did. It wasn’t part of the class. I just adopted it to drive my mother crazy. Needless to say, she doesn’t find it the epitome of sophistication.”

He snorted. “I’m really glad you’re on my side.”

Like it mattered. Like she wouldn’t drive him crazy either way.

But some of her happy, carefree demeanor had slipped. “I don’t have a lot of patience—let
alone respect—for anyone who can’t accept me for who I am. I’m sorry she’ll be upset, but I’m fulfilling every commitment I made to her, at least in terms of this charity, but probably not the one she says I made when I was two and promised I’d never leave her. People might think I’m crazy, but between the two of us, I think I’m the rational one. And speaking of that, I know tomorrow is Sunday,
but I promised I’d help out at the shelter bright and early, so I really need to get home.”

He probably should have argued, but he didn’t need a retake of waking up with her, the countdown to her departure echoing around them. He hated the tick of that clock, but he needed the reminder that they’d be over soon. That no matter how amazing the sex or how much he wanted her, he didn’t have
to over think where they were going.

They weren’t going anywhere.

She had dreams to chase, and not one of them would come true in his bed.

The simple truth of that was what made him free. He didn’t have to worry about losing her because she would never be his to begin with. But he didn’t have to let her go just yet. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

A brief shadow touched her
eyes, and for a moment, he thought she looked troubled. Then the flash of uncertainly was gone, and she smiled, a touch of mischief lighting her face. “That would be great.”

Sure it was. After she’d said a heartfelt good-bye to Shaggy and climbed into his truck, she didn’t stay put on her side. Instead, she scooted to the middle of the bench and managed to find the seatbelt he figured was
hopelessly crammed in the seat crack. While he eased out into traffic, she massaged him through his jeans and traced the line of his jaw with soft, closed lips.

Fuck
.

Apparently she had to risk her life on the road, too. Not that he let himself get that distracted. He’d protect her, fiercely, until she walked away from him.

And he’d want her, fiercely, long after that.

The ride became an unspoken battle for control, and while he knew he could hold it together going down the road, he had to fight hard not to pull over and give in. Then she bit his ear, and while it was playful, it was game fucking over.

“I’m guessing you’re entirely aware of what you’re doing to me,” he muttered.

“Not much farther now,” she said, like she didn’t practically have his
dick in her hand. Like his GPS wasn’t already telling him the remaining distance, down to the foot and the minute.

“Do I have your permission to retaliate for all of this when we get to your place?” he growled.

“I’m counting on it,” she said, in a voice so damned sexy it almost broke him on the spot. But he let it drop until she’d unlocked her front door and pushed it open.

Then he kissed her.

Against the wall, his fingers coursing her hair, his body hard against her every gorgeous curve. Her eyes widened, and for a moment she just stared at him, then the moment passed and she drew him in, clutching his shirt and feeding him soft whimpers while he hauled her against him. He managed to kick the door shut and turn the lock, then he stumbled blindly through the
house, his memory of the layout fuzzy, his ability to walk further complicated by the fact that he was too busy trying to tear through her clothes to worry himself with directions. Other than the part where he needed to know where her bed was.

Right. Then.

The instant she hit the mattress, he was there with her. Allowing enough distance to remove clothing nearly broke him, but none
so much as the sight of her lying there, moonlight filtering through the open blinds, body open and receptive to him. A distant warning sounded, but he tossed it to the floor with his jeans and nudged between her legs.

“In the drawer by the bed,” she said. “Any day now.”

He laughed, and it hit him how happy he really was.
Happy
. Fucking hell, why did it have to be with her? With the
woman he knew he’d never have?
And shouldn’t
. He squashed the thought, grabbed the condom, and was buried between her thighs before the second thoughts hit. He rolled into her, feeling raw and wild as he surged deep inside her while she tore at the sheets, fisting them again and again. His name was a plea on her lips, her body a torrent of surrender when he planted his hands on either side of
her head and drove hard, rocking the bed against the wall while she begged for more. Begged for harder. He didn’t know anything like it. Never had. And when she shuddered and seized beneath him, she took him with her, pleasure exploding into bright points of light that left him dizzy and lost.

Lost
. Yeah, there was a word for it.

He managed to fall to the side, sweat drenched, chest
heaving, world turned upside down. Again. His lips stung with her kisses, and his blood ran like hell through his veins.

He could chase that feeling every day for the rest of his life.

“I get it,” he said. “I get why you’re leaving.”

She turned her head and, looking at him across the pillow, smiled, so soft and sweet he ached inside. Then she curled her fingers around his and
ripped out his heart.

“My mother?” she asked with a grin.

“No. The rush. The freedom. I envy you, you know. The world is yours, and I don’t think you’re afraid of anything.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m not afraid.”

“But you know you’ll be okay.” And wasn’t that the damned difference? He squeezed her hand, then extricated himself from her touch and then her bed. She stared openly
while he dressed, never once asking him to stay. That was who she was, though, and whether or not he appreciated it, he got it.

Not that it mattered.

She had a flight to catch.

He’d be better off to stop worrying about her and start figuring out how to get through the gala. Once that was over, he could go back to his safe, normal life. The one without the quirky, car-kicking
brunette with the scary clown pajamas.

He’d be able to breathe again.

Whatever that was worth.